Page 54 of Sexting the Bikers
“God, you feel so good,” he groans, voice broken with need as he drags himself out, only to slam back in, harder, deeper, every stroke stretching me open, filling me completely. I arch beneath him, moaning.
He shifts, grabbing my legs and lifting them, bending one in front of me so my knee nearly brushes my chest, the other draped high over his shoulder. The angle changes everything—he drives into me deeper than before, grinding against that spot that makes me see stars. I writhe under him, fingers digging into the sheets, helpless to do anything but take it.
He pounds into me, the bed creaking beneath us, sweat slick between our bodies as he fucks me hard and fast, his hips slamming into mine over and over. Each time he buries himself to the hilt, I cry out, the sound echoing in the small room.
He leans over me, his mouth finding mine in a brutal kiss, swallowing my moans, then trailing down to my throat, my tits, biting and sucking marks into my skin as he fucks me even harder.
I shudder, legs trembling as he thrusts even faster, the edge so close I can taste it. My back arches, every muscle pulled tight, and I moan his name, over and over, desperate for release, desperate to keep him inside me just like this.
He keeps going, relentless, unyielding, driving me higher with every deep, punishing stroke, until I break apart beneath him, coming with a scream, my whole body clenching tight around his cock.
And still, he doesn’t stop, riding out my orgasm, chasing his own.
He fucks me through my climax, each thrust harder, more desperate, until I feel him start to lose control, his breathing ragged, the muscles in his arms and stomach trembling as he drives into me, stretching me wide open, my legs hooked high over his shoulders. He buries himself deep one final time, groaning my name as he comes, cock pulsing inside me, heat spilling and filling me so completely that for a moment I can’t tell where I end and he begins.
He’s every bit as dominant as I expected—taking, claiming, demanding every reaction from my body—but what I didn’t expect is how much I respond to it. How much Iwantit, want him to take everything, to make me his. The roughness, the control, the way he handles me like he knows I’ll shatter for him. It should scare me, but it doesn’t. It just makes me ache for more.
My mind reels, the last edges of my orgasm still fluttering through me, and reality sinks in. What started as manipulation—a way to gain favor, to get what I needed—has shifted into something far more dangerous.
Because for the first time, I’m not sure if I’m just playing.
And I’m not sure I want to stop.
15
REAPER
When I wake up, it’s still dark outside. And I’m not alone, for the first time in a long while.
“Did you sleep?” Katya asks, voice husky with sleep.
I nod, tracing a circle on her bare shoulder. It feels like I’m still floating. Maybe it’s just a dream. “A little. Marine habits die hard.” I pause. “Sometimes I think they never die at all.”
She’s quiet, watching me the way she does—like she’s measuring the words before she speaks them. “You were in the military a long time?”
“From the day I turned eighteen. Served most of my twenties. My old man thought it would keep me straight.” I laugh, short and dry. “I was good at it. Too good. But the world isn’t fair. You see what it does to good men. You see what you have to become if you want to come home alive.”
She shifts, drawing the sheet higher, but she’s still listening. “Did you ever regret it?”
I think about that for a second. “I regret believing the system would always do right by me. I thought loyalty and discipline would be enough. But the world’s got its own rules. The kind thatchange when you need them most.” I look at her, letting her see the raw edge I usually hide. “When I got back, I realized I didn’t believe in honor anymore. Only power. Only control. I didn’t want to be at someone else’s mercy again.”
She doesn’t flinch from the words, doesn’t try to fix the history she can’t touch. “Is that why you started the club?”
I nod. “The Ravagers gave me something the military never did. Control. Brotherhood you could trust. Power to keep my own people safe. No one gets left behind here. Not on my watch.”
She’s silent, then she leans in and presses her mouth to my shoulder, slow and sure. “You did that for them. And for me.”
“For all of us,” I say. “You don’t have to be perfect to belong. You just have to fight for your people.” I brush her hair off her cheek, softer than I mean to. “I’ve killed for less than what’s been done to you, Katya. I’ll kill again if I have to. That’s the world I live in now.”
She meets my eyes, steady as I’ve ever seen her. “I believe you.”
I wakeup again later with a start, disoriented, the world blurry around the edges. The first thing I notice is the unfamiliar weight in my bed—warm, soft, and real. For a split second, my mind runs through every worst-case scenario.
Fucking hell, I can’t remember the last time I slept so good.
Then I roll onto my back, blinking at the faint gray light creeping through the blinds, and see her—Katya. Tangled in my sheets, hair spilled over the pillow, one hand fisted in the fabric just above her bare chest.
So it wasn’t a dream. We really did fuck last night. And then I proceeded to spill my shit to her. How could I ever do that? I’vekept my secrets so close to my heart, that’s how I survive. What is it about her that makes the walls come down?
