Page 18 of Her Feral Biker
His belief that he’d hurt me seemed biased. Sure, we’d had rough sex, but that's all it had been. Rough. Maybe a little violent. My mouth still felt bruised but it was the right sort of bruised. I’d go for round seven right now if he asked me.
“Okay, short list: I need clothes, and you want me to move in here with you?” I looked up at him, hoping it got it all right.
Lake stared down at me. “Fuck, you’re cute.”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “I resent being called cute.”
“And yet, you are.” He rolled—both of us—and suddenly I found myself on my back trapped beneath two hundred and something plus pounds of, for once, not a leather covered biker.
“Lake,” I whispered, my heart beat ratcheting up a notch.
“Yeah, princess?” He brushed hair back from my face. “Did I hurt you?”
I shook my head, tears threatening at the tender tone in his voice. “No, you never hurt me.” My fingers told the story of my lie, rising to touch my too tender lips.
He caught my hand, kissing my fingertips, then my mouth, sweeping his tongue across my lips before he delved deeper in the long sort of kiss I associated with this man.
Whatever manic energy he’d had before, that moment seemed to have passed. Now, his kisses ran slower. He hardened between my legs, nudging my sore thighs apart. I wrapped my legs around his hips, tilting my pelvis up in invitation.
His groan as he sank deep inside me echoed in my own whimper.
“Promise I’ll take it slow, princess,” he hushed out, gripping my hips firmly.
I shuddered through my first orgasm of the morning moments later as he hit some point deep inside me.
Or maybe I was lying to myself, and it was the tender way he looked at me, as Lake worked my body to his own rhythm that drove my pleasure and his higher, again and again. No matter how many times I came, or called his name, Lake never stopped. His love making lasted far longer than any other session with him, as though he was determined to imprint his soul to mine.
And by the time he bellowed my name, I was sure that he’d actually succeeded.
“You sure you’ll be alright here?” Lake refused to let me go outside my shop. I arrived later than I usually turned up, and his friends had already gone through and checked that my business was empty of unwanted intruders.
Riding through town in a convoy of Savage Kings was certainly a new experience for me. Parking out the front of my shop added to that list, but there was something to be said for the intimidation factor. Everyone knew they were around, and heads turned, especially in the quiet of the morning with the combined roar of their engines that snarled through the air.
I smiled, leaning into Lake’s chest. The moment we pulled up out the front of my shop and I took my helmet off, stowing it in the compartment that seemed made just for it, he pulled me around onto his lap. My borrowed leather skirt rode up my thighs. Reyna, the manager at the Black Crown bar, had found me a skirt, a flowy cream embroidered top that looked like something I’d actually wear, and a pair of heels I could barely walk in and the skirt that was just long enough to not be indecent—except when I straddled Lake’s lap.
And, of course, his jacket that he refused to take back for now. He seemed to like how it looked.
His hands circled my waist as I bit my lip, knowing I had to bring it up. “This is more than just a jacket, isn’t it?” I looked straight at him, betting he was damn good at evading a point if I didn't hit him with a truth head on.
But Lake didn’t use any of those tactics on me this morning. Maybe he never intended to, or maybe something had changed between us last night. Maybe a lot of things.
He swept my hair back from my face. It means you’re mine,” he said simply.
My nose twitched. “And?” I was promoted when he didn’t say anything else.
The corner of his mouth lifted as he squeezed my waist. “You’re gonna be trouble, aren’t you, princess?"
I shrugged. “One of the girls tried to rip it off my back last night, but you looked pretty terrifying to everyone else so she stopped, I guess.”
His grip on my waist flexed. “To everyone else?”
I wiggled in place and breathed hissed between his lips, a hardness swelling between us. “Yep.”
“Fuck, princess. You’re not scared of all the things you should be,” he growled.
“Probably not,” I agreed. But then, he’d never been scary to me. “So, story time,” I prompted.
He sighed. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”
