Page 41 of Baby for the Bikers

She licks her lips again. Then, without me saying a damn word, she slides off the table and onto her knees.

She kneels so prettily. Her thighs are pressed together, the soft curves of her bare tits rising and falling with each uneven breath. Her hands reach for me, but I grip her wrist, stopping her.

Her eyes snap to mine, aroused as hell.

I don’t speak—I don’t have to. Instead, I drag my thumb over her lips, feeling how soft they are, how swollen.

She parts them for me, exhaling slowly. “Ryder…”

I tap my cock against her bottom lip.

She gets it.

Her mouth opens, tongue flicking out, tasting me.

“Good girl,” I murmur, just barely audible.

She moans softly and wraps her lips around the tip, her warm tongue teasing the sensitive ridge. I let my head fall back for a second, my fingers tightening in her hair as she starts to suck, taking me inch by inch, her small hands gripping my thighs for balance.

I watch her, eyes hooded, possessive as hell.

She struggles at first, her jaw stretching, but she doesn’t stop. She wants this. Wants me. She presses forward, taking more, letting my cock slide deeper past her lips into the heat of her throat.

“Fuck,” I grunt, voice wrecked.

She whimpers, the vibrations making my cock jerk.

Then she pulls back slightly, her hand wrapping around the base, her eyes flicking up to mine. There’s a wicked glint in them now, like she just had an idea.

“What did you do with them?” she asks, voice rough, lips slick with spit.

I blink, breathing hard, my fingers still fisted in her hair. “What?”

Her grip tightens at my base, and she licks me—slow, teasing. “My panties,” she says, her voice pure fucking sin. “The ones you stole.”

I exhale sharply through my nose.

She smiles, all heat and mischief. “Did you touch yourself with them?” Her tongue flicks against my slit, teasing me before she presses a soft, wet kiss to the tip. “Did you wrap them around your cock and jerk off thinking about me?”

Shit.

She’s playing with fire.

I don’t answer. Instead, I tighten my grip on her hair, guiding her back onto me and making her take more. Her gasp is muffled as I push deeper, past her tongue, into the tight heat of her throat. She chokes slightly, but she doesn’t pull away.

Her nails dig into my thighs as I start to fuck her mouth—slow at first, then deeper, rougher. Her throat tightens around me, struggling, adjusting, surrendering. The sounds she makes—the slick, messy, gasping moans—fuck, it’s too much.

I hold her there, letting her feel the weight of me, the stretch of her lips around my cock. Her throat flutters, struggling totake all of me, tears pricking her eyes, but she’s so goddamn determined.

I feel it when she relaxes, lets go of control, lets me take what I want.

“That’s it,” I mutter, voice hoarse, barely a whisper. “Just like that.”

Her moan vibrates around me, sending a pulse of pleasure straight down my spine.

I snap. My grip tightens, my hips thrust forward, fucking deep into her throat.

She gags. Tears slip down her cheeks. But she doesn’t stop me. Her hands are still gripping my thighs, nails biting into my skin as she takes it. Takes everything I give her.

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