Page 24 of Biker Bride (Hell on Heelz MC)

He pushed me against the hedge, the rough branches scratching my back, but I didn't care. I was too consumed by the fire between us. "Vince," I moaned, my hands clutching at his shirt. "What are you doing?"

"Showing you how much I want you," he growled in my ear. "How much I need you."

The intensity of the moment heightened as he pulled my knife from his pocket, the same one he'd teased me with before. My eyes widened as fear caused excitement to course through me. He pressed the cold blade against my skin, tracing a line down my neck, across my collarbone, and over my breasts. The danger got me shook. My pussy responded.

"Tell me you're my bride," he demanded, his voice a rough whisper.

"I'm yours," I gasped, the words escaping my lips before I could think.

"Louder," he commanded, pressing the blade just enough to make me tremble.

"I'm yours, Vince!" I cried out, the sensation of the knife against my skin intensifying the pleasure.

Vince cut me, the thinnest, finest line across my chest. He bent down to the tiniest bead of blood and lapped it up. Dropping the knife, his palms clutched my hips as he tugged me against his erection.

"Atta girl," he growled, his mouth crashing onto mine again. The kiss was fierce, almost brutal, as if he was claiming me with every touch. His mouth was coppery as I tasted my blood on his lips.

He grabbed me and swung me around, then bent me over a low hedge, the leaves and branches scratching my skin. The hedge felt rough, but his body was hot against mine. He entered me with a force that left me breathless, the wildness of our reunion driving us both to the edge almost immediately.

"Say it again," he growled, hammering my pussy.

“I'm yours,” I screamed, the pleasure against the brush blending into an exquisite sensation which caused me to lose control.

He mashed my insides, inching me closer to the verge of ecstasy. The danger, the intensity, the raw primal need—it waseverything I ever craved. The labyrinth closed in on us, leaving only the two of us consumed by our shared passion.

As we reached the peak together, I felt myself shatter into a million pieces. Only Vince held me together. He followed me over the edge, his growl of satisfaction mingling with my cries of pleasure. We crumpled to the grass, panting and spent, our bodies slick with sweat.

Vince kept me in his arms in the maze, his fingers tracing intricate designs on my skin. "I'm sorry, Sybil," he murmured. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just didn't know how to handle this."

"Why didn't you just talk to me, Vince?"

He sighed, his eyes dark and troubled. "Because I'm not used to letting people in. I'm used to controlling everything, everyone. But you... you make me lose control."

I reached up and cupped his cheek, my thumb brushing over his lips. "Maybe it's time you learned to let go, Vince. Maybe it's time you let someone crazy in."

He stared at me for a long moment, then leaned down and kissed me, his lips soft and tender. "Maybe you're right," he whispered. "But it’s only a matter of time before you bolt like the others."

Chapter 17

The next week was like something out of a twisted fairytale. Vince and I fell into an unexpected rhythm, each day blurring into the next as we played our parts to perfection. We fooled his family and friends, making them believe our love was genuine. Our days were filled with smiles and flirty looks, our nights with crazy passion.

There were moments that felt almost real. The way Vince would laugh at my crude jokes, the way he’d brush a stray hair from my face, the way he’d pull me into a kiss when no one was watching. It was all part of the act, but it was easy to forget that when his touch set my skin on fire.

We spent our mornings having leisurely breakfasts on the terrace, making small talk with his family. His father, a stern and imposing man, would ask Vince about business, and Vince would answer with a confidence that made me proud. His mother, cold and distant, would eye me with suspicion, but I’d smile sweetly and play the perfect fiancée.

Afternoons were spent exploring the grounds. We’d take long walks through the gardens, pretending to admire the flowers while stealing heated kisses behind the hedges. We’d ride horses along the trails, the wind whipping through our hair, and I’d laugh like I hadn’t in years. It felt almost normal, like we were just another couple in love.

But the nights were something else entirely. Vince and I couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We fucked all over the mansion, unable to resist the pull between us. It was like we were addicted to the danger, to the thrill of being caught. One night, we ended up in the grand library, Vince bending me over the mahogany desk, my moans echoing off the walls.

The weirdest place we found ourselves in was the wine cellar. It was one of those days where we couldn't keep our hands away from each other, the need for secrecy only amplifying our lust. Vince led me down a narrow staircase, the air growing cooler and damper as we descended. The cellar was vast, lined with rows upon rows of dusty wine bottles. The musty, earthy scent of aged wine filled the air, and the dim lighting cast long shadows across the stone walls. It felt like a hidden sanctuary, a place where we could disappear from the world above.

“Ever been down here?” Vince asked, his voice a low rumble.

“No,” I replied, my eyes scanning the endless rows of bottles. “This is a first.”

He smirked, grabbing my hand and pulling me deeper into the cellar. “Then let’s make it memorable.”

Without warning, Vince pushed me against a stack of crates, his mouth crashing onto mine with a ferocity that took my breath away. The rough wood dug into my back, but I didn’t care. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel him against me.

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