Page 50 of Bullet

I released her wrist, slid my palm into the front of my jeans, and adjusted my dick. She sucked in a sharp breath, catching the glint of my piercing wedged between my abdomen and the belt of my jeans.

Her pink tongue slicked across her lower lip. She closed her eyes and slid her hand into her jeans.

“Look at me. I’ve been dreaming of those brown eyes.”

“I’ve had dreams of you, too.”

“Did you touch yourself?”

“Yes.” Breath ghosted over her lips in a soft gasp.

“Fuck, kitten. Slide your finger against your clit.”

Her arm jerked as she reached between her legs.

“I want to do filthy things to you, Stormy. After I have you coming on my mouth, I’ll feel your pretty cunt choking my cock. I want to fuck you until your cum drips from my balls. Then I want you to use that pretty mouth to lick me clean.”

She stilled, and her mouth gaped. “How do you know my pussy is pretty?”

I smiled. “Prove me wrong.”

“I’m not dancing at the Landing Strip anymore.” Her brow arched, but her fingers slid deeper into her jeans.

“Fuck your fingers. Get off the way I do, imagining your lips glossy with spit as I come down your throat.”

I shielded her from view as she rubbed her pussy. “Tell me more. Because of you and your bike, I’m already close.”

“Your ass is perfection. I’d bend you over this bike, have you spit on my cock as lube so I can fuck that ass until you’re begging to come.” The corner of my mouth twitched. “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined soaking my cock in you?”

“How many?”

“Every time I close my eyes.”

Her lips parted. “I’m almost there.”

I nipped her skin, then laved the sting with the flat of my tongue. She ground her pussy against my thigh, chasing her pleasure.

“Good girl,” I said.

“I’m coming.” She jolted, every muscle tensed, and a keening cry ripped from her mouth.

Bikes rumbled in the distance, laughter sounded from the guys around the fire, but it was soft curses coming from Stormy that had my heart slamming against my ribs, my cock leaking jizz, and my balls about to nut.

I banded my arms around her and pulled her hard against me. Her teeth sank into the meat of my chest. With one hand in her jeans, and the other fisted in my T-shirt, she splintered. Her body shuddered and trembled, riding out the storm of her release.

With a final gasp, she sagged against me.

I fisted my hand in her hair and angled her head back. Lust clouded her eyes, and her lips parted. “I’m hungry, Stormy.” Reaching between us, I shackled her wrist with my hand. “Put your fingers in my mouth.”

With a hesitant touch, she smeared her creamy fingers across my lips. I flared my nostrils, tightening my grasp on her wrist, and plunged her fingers into my mouth.

Fucking hell. She tasted like sin. Dark, mysterious, and so fucking good. I curled my tongue between her fingers, teasing the flavor from her skin as I pulled her hand away. A taste wasn’t enough.

Two guys approached. “Torch is looking for you,” one said as they made their way to the fire in the oil drum.

With the intrusion, I watched the spark dim from her eyes, replaced with insecurity or maybe guilt. I could hear her words without her speaking. She and I would be a mistake.

“You need to go.” Her nails combed my goatee, her thumb traced the shape of my lips, and she took a step back.

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