Page 13 of The Biker's Single Mom
The sight of her, all soft curves and creamy skin, stops the air in my lungs. She stands before me in just a simple cotton bra and jeans, but she might as well be wearing the finest lingerie for how hard it hits me.
"You're beautiful," I tell her, the words rough with honesty.
I pull my t-shirt over my head. Her eyes widen as she takes in the tattoos that cover my chest and arms, the scars from fights and crashes and a life lived on the edge.
Her fingers trace a particularly jagged scar that runs along my ribs. "Does it hurt?"
"No."
She presses her lips to it, and something in my chest cracks open.
"Daisy," I warn, my voice strained. "If you don't want this—"
She silences me with another kiss, her hands working at my belt. "I want this," she breathes against my mouth. "I want you."
We fall onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and half-removed clothing. Her hair fans across my pillow, golden against the dark sheets. I hover above her, taking in every detail, the flush spreading across her chest, the rapid rise and fall of her breathing, the way her eyes darken when I brush my thumb across her bottom lip.
"Let me look at you," I murmur, reaching for the clasp of her bra.
She arches to give me access, and the simple cotton falls away. My breath catches at the sight of her, full, perfect breasts tipped with dusky pink nipples that tighten under my gaze.
She gasps when my mouth closes around one peak, her fingers threading through my hair to hold me against her. The sound drives me wild, makes me want to discover every noise she can make, map every inch of her body with my hands and mouth.
I trail kisses down her stomach, feeling the softness there, the gentle curve that speaks of motherhood and life. When I reach the waistband of her jeans, I look up, seeking permission. She nods, lifting her hips to help as I slide them down her legs.
Now she's wearing only simple cotton panties, the last barrier between us. I hook my fingers in the elastic, drawing them downwith agonizing slowness until she lies completely bare beneath me.
"This is unfair," she says, tugging at my still-fastened jeans. "Too many clothes."
I stand, stripping away the last of my clothing under her hungry gaze. Her eyes widen slightly as she takes me in, and I feel a surge of primitive satisfaction at her reaction.
When I return to her, the first touch of her bare skin against mine nearly undoes me. Heat and softness and the intoxicating scent of her arousal. I settle between her thighs, my hardness pressed against her core, but make no move to take this further.
Instead, I kiss her deeply, thoroughly, one hand sliding down to explore her heat. She's slick and ready, and the knowledge that she wants me as desperately as I want her is a heady drug.
"Daniel," she moans as my fingers find the sensitive bundle of nerves at her center. "Please."
I circle slowly, watching her face as pleasure builds. "Please what?"
Her eyes flash with challenge through the haze of desire. "Don't make me beg."
"Not begging," I murmur against her throat. "Just want to hear you say it."
Her nails dig into my shoulders as she rocks against my hand. "I want you inside me," she whispers. "Now."
I smile against her skin, continuing my torturous pace. "Soon."
"You're enjoying this too much," she gasps, then surprises me by reaching between us to wrap her fingers around my length.
My rhythm falters as pleasure shoots through me. Two can play this game, and she's clearly not content to be the only one teased to the edge.
"Dangerous," I warn, voice tight with restraint.
Her smile is pure wicked temptation. "I told you what I'm capable of."
We hover there, balanced on the knife-edge of desire, each pushing the other toward a precipice we both desperately want to fall from. But not yet. Not quite yet.
"Tell me again what you want," I demand, needing to hear the words from her lips.
