Page 45 of One Night with the Biker

Fuck her. I wouldn’t make her come. I wouldn’t allow her to come. I’d nut and put her out. I slammed into her one final time and jerked my cock out, finishing on her belly, then collapsing at her side.

“You have to leave,” I said when I caught my breath. I pulled my jeans up to cover my cock, not fastening my fly or buckling my belt. “I’ll get a towel to clean you up. I don’t want anyone seeing you here. Especially my president.”

She studied me, but I kept my poker face in place. She swallowed, but didn’t protest, cry, or argue. Instead, she sat up and wiped her stomach off with my comforter. My bed was crumpled, though still all made-up.

Her lips were swollen, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were soft and passion glazed. Perhaps, if I hadn’t looked at her when she got to her feet and saw her breasts bobbing and her skin flushed, I could’ve allowed her to leave. I stormed to my feet and pulled her back on the bed, burying my face between her thighs and devouring her pussy.

I used my fingers to hold open her lips and tongued her clit, her screams music to my ears. I slurped her juices, licked and sucked her cunt, speared my tongue into her hole, not stopping until she begged me.

I was frantic, unable to satisfy my need for her. Latching onto one of her tits, I caressed the other one, egged on by her cries. This time, when I buried my cock in her, I didn’t halt for her or for me. I fucked her the way I’d dreamed about it. Without mercy or coordination, just by instinct. Her passion matched mine, measure for measure.

When my orgasm neared, I caressed her pussy. The moment she cried out, I let loose and emptied inside her. Before I pulled out, I allowed my heartrate to slow and my pants to subside.

Next to her, I pulled her into my arms, soaking up the peace while it lasted.

Laying in Reese’s arms felt more right than anything I’d ever experienced. I felt safe and desired and beautiful. When I turnedon my side, he spooned me just like the heroes always did in my favorite romance novels. His big body pressed into mine, a wall of solid muscle and strength.

Whatever else I’d expected, it wasn’t this explosive passion. He chinned some of my hair aside and nuzzled my neck. Goosebumps rose along my skin. I shivered, sighing dreamily. He splayed his huge hand over my belly, and I knew he was thinking about the baby.

“I don’t have a doctor yet,” I said, giddy and lost in a haze. “I wasn’t sure who to ask since Roman takes care of everything. If I went to my regular doctor, she’d rat me out. We can always choose one together, Reese.”

Sighing, he moved his hand away and gently pushed me out of his arms.

“Get dressed, Ainsley. We aren’t a couple. We’re having a kid together. That’s it.”

“What?”

Reese got to his feet. It dawned on me that he was fully dressed. He hadn’t even removed his boots, while I’d shed my clothes with abandon. He tossed my jeans and underwear at me.

“Put your fucking clothes on andgo. Give me your number so I can unblock you.”

“You don’t have my number anymore?”

He shrugged. “I deleted it.”

“I see.”

That cut me deeply. He’d wanted to erase me from his life with such totality that he didn’t even want my number in his contact list. Swallowing, I glanced around.

Reese’s bedroom was rugged but surprisingly comfortable, despite its rough masculinity. The large, industrial-style window framed a view of the river, breathtaking even from my spot on the bed.

The walls were made of exposed brick, and their deep red and brown hues gave the space a gritty, lived-in feel. His steel-framed bed sat against one wall, the dark leather headboard worn from years of use. The bedding was simple but comfortable—a thick, slightly rumpled black and gray comforter, and an extra throw blanket, stitched with the club’s emblem. I couldn’t see the sheets since he hadn’t bothered to pull the covers down.

A heavy wooden dresser held a few personal items—a flask, a collection of lighters, and several photos. Motorcycle helmets, a leather jacket, and a pair of well-worn boots rested near the doorway.

Reese’s voice broke into my contemplation. “Call me tomorrow and we’ll meet one day next week.”

“But—”

“I’ll ask the chick I’m fucking if she knows of an obstetrician.”

Since Roman’s accident, I’d cried buckets. I didn’t have any tears left in me. Even if Reese was a motherfucker.

He thrust his fingers through his hair. “Don’t fucking look at me like that. I didn’t make you any promises.”

I got to my feet and pulled on my panties. “I didn’t ask for any, so fuck you.” I jerked on my jeans, then looked around for my wedges. “I’ll find my own fucking doctor, dickhead. Don’t ask that bitch anything on my account.”

“That’s nice. You don’t even know the woman.”

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