Page 64 of Bullet

“No,” I agree. “I don’t like giving my body when it doesn’t mean something. It’s never been easy. There’s this view that people have of what makes a man manly. Even as a teenager, I never experienced needs like that. I hooked up a few times, wanting to see what the fuck everyone was talking about, and it felt good for a few minutes, but never meant anything, and Ihated that. I always felt lonely and empty after. As a soldier, you learn to focus on the task at hand and deny your bodily needs. Hunger, thirst, companionship. Maybe I got too good at it. I was going to legit go and get my testosterone levels checked, but then I met you. Now I know what other people have to deal with. That night you came downstairs and caught me jacking off was the first time I’d done it in ages. It felt like I was dying, thinking about you, being so close to you, and unable to have you. It constantly feels like that now. If this is how other people live their lives, it must be awful.”

“Yes!” She scrambles up and flips one leg over mine, straddling me, staring me right in the face, her intensity radiating off her like steam. “Yes to both! It wasn’t just raising Willa that put a damper on my social and love life. I never dated as a teenager. I was so turned off by all the stupidity, and then random hookups? I mean, I’m not a virgin, but I could probably count the number of times I’ve had sex on one hand, if I’m being honest.” She chews at her bottom lip, hard. “Maybe that was too honest.”

“No.” I cup her face tenderly with both hands, overwhelmed by the fact that we’re here. Here, without it being illegal, without a mask of indifference and professionalism between us. “Your honesty is refreshing.”

She blinks. “Do you think it’s because of the way we were raised? Or do lots of people need an emotional connection, that feeling of being seen and safe, before they give themselves intimately?”

“I think other people must find comfort in trust, but when the whole world is geared towards throwing sexuality in your face, it’s hard to say that. I think we shaped ourselves into solitarypeople and became experts. Even in the club, I’m still my own person. I’m part of a family, but I’m also a business owner. I’ve spent a lot of hours at the range, alone, because I needed that.”

“And if I take the job with the club? It’s my profession, Bullet. That’s important to me.”

I rub my fingers over her high cheekbones, soothing her, but maintain the intense eye contact. “I know that and I respect that. I want to help you see that I respect every part of you. The woman, the lawyer, the big sister, the beautiful human being. I know what everyone thinks about bikers, that we’re men who take what we want, with our middle fingers raised to the world, but that’s not our club and that’s notme. You can love bikes, not fit into society, and still hang on to your ideals.”

She leans in, her lips just a few inches from my face. “I’m so sorry that I once called you a bad man straight to your face.”

“In your defense, you didn’t know me yet.”

She studies me hard, and then gives in to the impulse to throw her arms around my neck. She’s so soft, melting into me. My cock is not soft, and it’s trapped up against her. She can probably feel it throbbing away beneath her ass, but she doesn’t say anything about it.

“I like you, Hamish. Bullet. Whatever other names you have. I don’t even know if I like that I like you, but I can’t do anything about it. I’m lost and terrified, andalive. I want to have very public, indecent sex with you right here in this cornfield. It hasn’t been weeks, it’s been ten thousand years, and I am starved. Please, show me.”

She’s not just talking about the physical aspect. It’s everything else that goes into making life work. The romantic and the unromantic. Friendship and the building of a foundation of trust. She wants more than just my body, the same way that I want more than just hers.

I’m stripped down to the bone by her honesty, her beauty, her almost childlike enthusiasm. I know Lynette would throw everything she has behind this once she chooses me. This life. Us. She’d be loyal to the death, a strong defender, always in my corner, and that alone is almost more than I can take.

All the small details of her stand out so starkly in the moonlit night.

Her sweet scent mingles with the deeper, earthier ones. The curve of her cheek, her long lashes, her sharp cheekbones and full lips.

I cup her chin, stroking my thumb along her cheek and then down her jaw. I travel the delicate curve of her neck until I can press my thumb to her thrashing pulse.

We’re both just this. A heartbeat. Flesh and blood, air and bone. We’re made of elemental forces and shaped by them. It’s astounding to think that the trenches we’ve both carved through life have somehow intersected and led us right here.

“What does… what does an old lady mean, exactly?” Her pulse picks up, thrumming its frantic wings against my rough fingertips. “I’m sorry, I’m overthinking this. I already agreed to go for a ride with you and we’re here. I have this terrible tendency to want to control everything.”

“Asking questions isn’t control. Needing answers isn’t wrong.”

“You’re just being nice.”

I brush her hair away from her shoulder and tip her neck, bending to kiss her just below her earlobe. The taste of her satin skin hits me all at once. I was starving before, but now my cock is throbbing. She’s sitting right on top of me, and I long to be buried to the hilt inside her.

She gasps and the vein in her neck thrums beneath my lips. I trace it with my tongue. She shivers violently, her legs clenching around mine. I pepper kisses on the sensitive skin until I reach the collar of her jacket. I push it aside and nip her with my teeth.

“Bullet,” she whimpers, grinding down so hard on my dick that my cockhead rams straight into the zipper. A burst of pain splinters through my groin, but even that feels good.

I swear, she could probably kick me in the nuts right now and I’d beg her for more.

“The concept of an old lady kind of seems like something some toxic macho caveman came up with to prove that a woman was his and put his stamp of ownership all over her so no other man could touch her.”

“No.” I try to peel back the jacket’s collar again, to get more of her skin.

In sheer frustration, she wrenches open the snaps and shrugs it down, baring the little tank top underneath. I push one slender strap aside, painting her velvet skin with kisses.

“It’s a symbol of respect. It doesn’t mean that you belong to me. It signifies a partnership between two people.”

“Because calling a man like you my boyfriend would just be silly. There’s nothing boyish about you.”

I pause to look up into her face. “It also means that you accept the club and my role in it.”

---