Page 66 of Wild Ride

He is all that matters.

At least my body feels that way. There is only him. Nobody else means a fucking thing, not even me. I don’t exist, not when he’s near me. Moving my hands, I reach between us, my fingers finding his belt, and I unbuckle it.

He grunts and lifts his hips slightly, and I tug his jeans down as much as I can before I reach inside his underwear and free his length. I know that my fingers are shaky as I wrap them around his length and gently glide them up and down, once, twice, and then I lift my hips and position myself on the head of his cock and sink down—three times.

When I take him completely inside of me, my head falls back, and I let out a heavy sigh. His fingers grip my breast, my back arching as I relax my body and allow myself to feel him stretching me. I am so full. My body begs to move, but I don’t.

I want to feel him with each move I make. I want to feel his body inside of mine. Every inch of him. Every single centimeter. Then he lifts his hand, and that’s when his fingers curl around the front of my throat.

Straightening, I look at him. His lips curve up into a grin as his fingers grip my throat tighter. “Move,” he hisses.

His jaw is clenched, his eyes are on mine, and that is when I move. My hips jerk once, then roll, and I find my rhythm. His fingers flex around my throat. I’m unable to stop. My brain has taken a vacation, and my body is in control. Complete and total control. I can’t even breathe. All I can do is feel.

My eyes connect to his as my body searches.

Climbing higher and higher, I can’t look anywhere else but into his eyes as I ride him. His fingers flex against my throat in pulses as I grind against his pelvis. His lips curve up into a grin, his eyes darken, and I watch as sweat breaks out over his forehead. It’s sexy as hell.

“Come,” he demands. “Come all over me, baby.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I am already there. Right there. And then it happens. My hips buck once, twice, three times before I come. My body feels like it’s floating away. I become lightheaded, and then darkness begins to consume my vision. Before it goes black, he releases my throat, and I collapse against his chest, my mouth against his throat.

He moves his hands to my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he uses my body to jack his cock. It only takes once, twice, three times of him moving my body up and down until he pulls me down hard and then groans as I feel him fill my body with his cum.

And I welcome it.

In fact, I think I might actually crave it now.

BULLET

Keeping her body tightly held against mine, I don’t shift her off me. I know that my cock will be softening soon, but I don’t care. I need to feel her heat around me for as long as humanly fucking possible.

She lifts her head once she’s caught her breath, then looks into my eyes. Releasing her hip with one of my hands, I cup her cheek and slide my thumb across her bottom lip as I look into her eyes. I have so much to say, so much to tell her. I just don’t know where to start.

“This life, it’s not pretty,” I begin.

She snorts but otherwise doesn’t say anything to me. So, I take that as my silent cue to continue speaking.

“But you’re strong. You’re a tough bitch.”

“Bishop,” she exhales, beginning to protest.

Shaking my head once, I slide my thumb to her lips, keeping her from speaking. I need to finish this because I need her to know just what the fuck she’s getting into. Not like she has much of a choice. She’s my woman, whether she agrees with me about it or not. She doesn’t have a fucking choice at this point. It’s her life or death. And I’m going to protect her life with my own.

“When you’re my old lady, it’s as good as being my wife in my world—in this world. That being said, you’ll be my wife, too, Dakota.”

“What?” she exhales.

“You’re moving here. You’ll be my wife. And that is fucking that.”

She presses her lips together and rolls them a few times, and I’m not sure what I expect her to say. I assume she’s going to say no, and maybe I sound crazy. I’m sure I do to an outsider. But in this life, I am not crazy.

We move fast, and I need her to be my old lady to protect her from more attacks. Not that I expect anyone to attack again, but they fucking could, and she’s a prime target. Never again will I let her walk around with a target on her back.

“I’ll be your wife?” she asks.

“You will.”

“And if I refuse?” she asks.

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