Page 53 of Her Possessive Bikers

"You're killing me," I groan, but there's a thrill in his dominance that has my skin tingling.

He doesn't respond, just lines himself up and thrusts into me again, his movements unrelenting. My tits press against the cold counter, the sensation heightening every nerve ending. I grab hold of his massive thigh for leverage, nails digging in as he pounds into me.

"Tres," I gasp, "I can't... I can't hold on."

"You're gonna have to," he growls into my ear, his breath hot against my skin.

But it's too much; my body betrays me. The pleasure builds to a peak and I come with a cry, shuddering around him. "Tres! Fucking come in me," I beg breathlessly. "Claim me."

He pulls out suddenly and spills on the floor instead. My eyes widen in shock and disappointment.

"Girls that don't listen don't get their way," he says with a smirk, wiping himself off with a nearby dish towel.

I collapse against the counter, panting and trying to catch my breath. "You're such an asshole," I mutter, but there's no real venom in my words.

"You love it," he retorts, leaning down to kiss the back of my neck softly.

I can't help but laugh, even though I'm still trembling from the intensity of what just happened. "Maybe," I admit grudgingly.

He chuckles and steps back, giving me space to stand up and straighten myself out. As I do, I catch sight of our reflections in the kitchen window—me flushed and disheveled, him looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Next time," I say pointedly as I turn to face him fully, "you won't get off so easy."

His eyes darken with promise. "I'll hold you to that."

We both stand there, catching our breath, the heat of the moment still lingering in the air. I look down at my clothes scattered across the floor and start picking them up. Tres watches me with a smirk, clearly satisfied with himself. I shoot him a glare as I trash my now ruined undies and bra.

"Enjoying the show?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.

He chuckles. "Always."

I roll my eyes but can't help the smile tugging at my lips. I slip into my jeans and band tee, feeling his gaze on me the entire time. He doesn't even bother to hide it.

As I bend down to grab my shoes, Tres's hand comes down on my ass with a sharp smack. "Ow!" I yelp, standing up straight and rubbing the spot. "What the hell was that for?"

"For thinking you could just run off without telling anyone," he says, his tone stern but his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Next time, you listen."

I huff and cross my arms over my chest. "I can take care of myself, you know."

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming in the small space between us. "I'm sure you can," he says softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "But that's not the point. You need to let us protect you."

"I don't need protecting," I mutter stubbornly.

His fingers grip my chin gently but firmly, tilting my head up so I'm forced to meet his gaze. "Yes, you do," he says quietly. "Whether you like it or not."

I open my mouth to argue but he cuts me off with a kiss—gentle this time, almost tender. It leaves me speechless and more than a little confused.

When he pulls back, he gives me a look that says he's not done talking about this but is willing to let it go for now. "Let's get back to the house," he says.

I sigh but nod in agreement. "Fine."

We head out of the house together, Tres keeping a protective hand on the small of my back as he walks me to the car. The air outside is cooler now, a welcome relief after the intensity inside.

I glance over at him. "You really think I'm gonna let this go?"

He grins. "I'd be disappointed if you did."

I open the car door and get in the drivers seat, "Just so we're clear—I still think you're an overbearing asshole."

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