Page 5 of Ripper's Redemption

We stand there for a moment, just soaking it all in.

The silence between us is comfortable, and I don’t feel pressured to keep a conversation going. We both came here for some peace, and it’s exactly what I’m getting.

“You a manwhore who’s brought all his ladies here?” I laugh, shaking my head.

He shrugs and grins, “Been called worse. But let’s make this night about you. You want some time alone or...?”

“Stay,” I say quickly, surprising even myself. “Please.”

I might not want to be at the clubhouse, but that doesn’t mean I want to be alone.

I turn to him, the moonlight casting a silver halo around us.

His eyes are darker now, filled with something raw and magnetic.

The world fades away as I lean in, my heart pounding in my chest.

Our lips meet, a slow burn that ignites into a fierce, consuming fire.

“I don’t want this to mean anything,” I whisper against his mouth, my fingers threading through his hair.

“It doesn’t need to.” he murmurs back, his hands gripping my waist, pulling me closer.

We kiss like we’re drowning, desperate for the air only the other can provide. My hands wander over his leather cut, feeling the rough texture beneath my fingertips.

He tastes like whiskey and danger, and right now, that might be exactly what I need.

“You’re driving me crazy, Tara,” Ripper groans, his voice husky with desire.

“Good,” I reply breathlessly, nipping at his lower lip. “Then do something about it.”

He doesn’t need any more encouragement.

His fingers make quick work of my jeans, sliding them down just enough to expose my skin to the night air.

In one swift motion, he lifts me onto his bike, my legs straddling the cool metal. I feel the vibration of the engine beneath me, a stark contrast to the heat building between us.

“Hold on tight,” he says, his eyes smoldering as he positions himself behind me, his hands roaming over my thighs.

“Trust me, I don’t plan on letting go,” I respond, my voice trembling with anticipation.

I shiver, not from the cold, but from the sheer intensity of his touch.

He trails kisses along my neck, each one sending electric jolts through my body.

“Ripper,” I moan, arching my back against him. “Please...”

“Patience,” he growls, his lips curving into a wicked smile. “I want to savor you.”

He continues his torturous exploration, his hands and mouth skilled in ways that steal my breath.

Every touch, every kiss, is electrifying my body.

When he finally enters me, he lifts me up slightly to get a better angle.

It’s like the world explodes into a symphony of stars.

“Fuck, Tara,” he groans, his movements powerful and relentless. “You feel so damn good.”

---