Page 15 of The Biker's Single Mom
"My turn," I tell him, enjoying the way his breath hitches when I rock against him, my wetness sliding along his hardness.
I've never been this bold, this demanding. Daniel's eyes drink me in like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, hands gripping my hips with barely restrained desire, and the power of it rushes through me like whiskey, warm, intoxicating, dangerous.
I lean down to kiss him, letting my breasts brush against his chest, the friction of skin on skin making us both moan. Then I work my way down his body, trailing kisses over the inked skin of his chest and abdomen, following the dark line of hair that leads downward.
When I take him in my hand, his entire body tenses, a strangled sound escaping his throat. I stroke him slowly, learning the feel of him, the weight and heat in my palm.
"Daisy," he warns, voice strained. "You don't have to—"
I silence him by taking him in my mouth, watching his face as pleasure overtakes him. His eyes never leave mine, even as his hands fist in the sheets beside him. The power I feel in this moment is intoxicating, this dangerous man, undone by my touch.
I take my time, exploring what makes his breath catch, what draws those deep groans from his chest. When his hand tanglesin my hair, guiding but not forcing, I let him set the rhythm, enjoying the way he struggles to maintain control.
"Enough," he finally rasps, gently pulling me up. "Or this ends too soon."
I crawl back up his body, settling over his hips once more. This time I reach between us, guiding him to my entrance, then slowly—achingly slowly—lower myself onto him.
The stretch and fullness make me gasp, my eyes fluttering closed at the intensity of the sensation. He's larger than I expected, filling me completely, the slight burn of accommodation quickly giving way to pleasure.
"Look at me," he commands, his hands gripping my hips. "I want to see you."
I open my eyes, meeting his gaze as I take him fully inside me. The connection is electric, beyond physical. For a moment we stay perfectly still, adjusting to the feel of each other, the sheer rightness of our bodies joined.
Then I begin to move.
I start slow, rising and falling in a rhythm that makes us both groan. His hands guide my hips but don't control them, letting me set the pace. The view above him is intoxicating—his powerful body beneath mine, the muscles in his chest and arms flexing with each movement, the raw desire in his eyes as he watches me take my pleasure.
"You're fucking magnificent," he says, voice strained with the effort of restraint.
The praise washes over me, feeding something hungry and neglected. I move faster, chasing the building pressure at mycore. One of his hands leaves my hip to find my breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers in time with my movements.
"That's it," he encourages as my rhythm falters. "Take what you need."
The permission breaks something open inside me. I ride him harder, my head falling back as pleasure builds and builds. His thumb finds my center, pressing and circling until I shatter, crying out as waves of release pulse through me.
I collapse against his chest, trembling with aftershocks, but he gives me no time to recover. In one smooth motion, he flips us so I'm beneath him again, still joined, my body sensitive and tingling from release.
"Again," he demands, his voice rough with need. He hooks one of my legs over his arm, opening me wider as he drives into me with new urgency.
This angle is devastating, hitting places inside me that make stars burst behind my eyelids. Each thrust sends echoes of my first climax rippling through me, building toward another peak I didn't think possible so soon.
"Harder," I gasp, surprising myself with the demand.
He growls in response, the sound primal and thrilling. His pace increases, the slap of skin against skin filling the room along with our ragged breathing. The headboard knocks against the wall with the force of his movements, and I find myself hoping the others can hear, can know exactly what he's doing to me.
"Daniel," I moan as the pressure builds again. "I'm close."
"Not yet," he says, suddenly slowing, drawing back.
I make a sound of protest, but he silences me with a kiss as he withdraws completely. Before I can complain, he's turning me onto my side, sliding in behind me. One strong arm wraps around my waist, pulling my back against his chest as he enters me again in one smooth thrust.
This position is somehow more intimate than the others. I can feel the solid wall of his chest against my back, his breath hot on my neck, his arm a band of steel around me. He moves slower now, each thrust deep and deliberate.
"Feel how perfectly you take me," he murmurs in my ear, his voice a rough caress. "Like you were made for this. For me."
His words send a fresh surge of heat through me. One of his hands cups my breast, thumb circling the sensitive peak while his lips and teeth work at the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder.
"Daniel," I gasp as the pleasure builds again, different this time—deeper, more consuming. "Please."
