Page 138 of Riding the Edge

“Yeah and if memory serves me correctly, the first lady of the Satan’s Knights hasn’t been properly inducted to her position,” I add, drawing down the zipper.

“Well, seeing as I take my role very seriously, we should probably see about fixing that.”

“I agree.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Yeah, I can think of a few,” I mutter, sliding my hand into her pants.

Silk.

My fucking favorite.

Especially when it’s soaked with my lady’s arousal.

“Name one,” she challenges.

Removing my hand, I slide both around her body and grab her ass. Lifting her onto the table in front of me, I push off the chair and stand between her spread legs.

“We can start by having her get fucked hard and rough on the table her president congregates at,” I growl, dipping my head to take her mouth. “How’s that sound, Lady? You want to get railed in church?”

Nibbling on my lips, she reaches for my belt.

“It sounds crazy.”

“I like fucking crazy,”

“I love it,” she counters.

Sliding my tongue into her eager mouth, she makes quick work of my belt and jeans. Before she can pull my cock out, I break the kiss and order her to lift her hips. Instead, she cocks her head to the side and reaches for the hem of her Satan’s Knights t-shirt.

It’s not the first time we’ve fucked since her surgery, but Maria is self-conscious since the mastectomy and has yet to bare herself to me when we’re making love. The lights are always off, and she’s always covered up top when I touch her. The first time we tried to make love ended with her crying in my arms and I decided I wouldn’t push her. Instead, I told myself to be patient and make sure I tell her how beautiful she is. Maria doesn’t doubt I want her and knows I’ll be right here waiting for her to feel comfortable in her own skin.

Maybe it’ll happen after the reconstruction is complete.

Maybe it’ll happen here and now.

Either way, I love her.

Drawing in a ragged breath, I watch her slowly lift the shirt over her head.

“You don’t have to,” I remind her.

“I know,” she whispers, reaching for the Velcro clasp that binds her. “But I want to.”

In one fluid motion, I watch as she peels the bra away from her body and exposes herself. Like the first time I laid eyes on her scars, I swallow the lump in my throat and weigh my next move. Deciding to go with my gut and what feels right, I wrap an arm around her waist and bend my head as I kiss one angry scar and then the next.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on,” I say as my mouth leaves the swell of her breasts and works a trail up her neck. Maria doesn’t know but after the surgery, I found a support group for men with spouses who were cancer survivors. I wanted to be a better man and learn how to provide the support she needed. While most of the things discussed were things, I already knew and did, I discovered ways to make up for the lack of sensation she was experiencing.

Foreplay didn’t have to be centered on a woman’s breasts.

A man could still drive his woman wild without sucking on her nipples.

Finding her neck, I go to work.

Sucking, licking and nipping at the sensitive flesh until her arms wind around my back and she drags her ass to the edge of the table and wraps her legs around my waist.

“Like that, Lady?” I murmur against her throat.

“Don’t stop.”

Never.

Until the day I die, I’ll always give my lady what she needs.

After all, we only get one life.

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