Page 14 of Her Outlaw Biker
“Touch yourself, baby,” he murmurs, his hand on mine, pressing my fingers to my pussy. “Show me what feels good.”
Heat floods my face. “I—I can’t.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, confusion flickering behind the heat in his eyes. “You’ve never touched yourself?” I try to turn my face away, but he catches my chin. “Hey,” he says softly. “No shame here.”
“My dad’s shop wasn’t exactly private,” I mumble. “Then the guys from the MC were always around. And…I just didn’t.”
He watches me for a beat, something tender sparking beneath the hunger in his gaze. “Then let me help. We’ll figure it out together, alright?”
He releases my hand and gently spreads my thighs, brushing his fingers over the slick heat there. I gasp, hips jerking. He groans, the sound low and reverent, and then he bends his head again to kiss my breast, the warmth of his mouth grounding me as his fingers stroke me with maddening patience.
“I could worship your tits all night,” he growls, sucking my nipple deep. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me.”
My back arches, body strung tight, hips moving against his palm without permission. I’m drenched, my skin electric, aching where he touches and where he doesn’t. And when he slips a finger between my folds, finding me soaked and ready, my breath catches on a broken moan.
I’ve never been so…needy. So shamelessly wanton.
“God, you’re perfect,” he groans gruffly. “I want to watch you come, just for me. I want to see what you look like when you’re falling apart.”
I’m trembling, caught between the unfamiliar and the undeniable, but I nod, heart hammering. “Y-yes. Please.”
He rewards me with a slow, knowing smile and a kiss to the inside of my thigh before returning to my mouth. Then he finds my clit again, stroking with just enough pressure to make my eyes roll back.
“Just like that,” he murmurs. “Let yourself feel it, sweetheart. There’s no one here but me.”
His voice is a low growl in my ear, his fingers confident, coaxing. Then he slips a single finger inside me, carefully, reverently, into a place no one else has ever touched.
My hips jerk and I cry out, not from pain but from the raw pressure, the fullness of the intrusion.
His hand stills. “You okay, baby?”
I nod frantically. “Yes. Please don’t stop.”
He begins to stroke me again, inside, outside, finding a rhythm that drives me toward the edge with every breath. My body sings for him, hips rolling in time with his hand, each flick of his thumb pushing me closer.
“You’re gonna come so hard for me,” he whispers against my neck. “That’s it. Let go.”
And I do.
The orgasm slams into me like a wave crashing over rock, stealing my breath, stealing all thought. I cry out, clenching around his finger, thighs trembling, nails biting into his back.
“I need to be inside you,” he growls, voice hoarse. “Need to feel you, Clover. All of you.”
He reaches for a condom from the drawer but I stop him, hand on his wrist.
“No,” I whisper, eyes locked on his. “I—I want to feel you.”
His brows dip slightly, his eyes searching my face. “Sweetheart…I could get you pregnant.”
A thrill passes through me at the thought, but I push the idea aside for now.
“I know,” I say, breathless but sure. “Just this once. Please.”
He hesitates, then groans, tossing the condom aside. “Jesus Christ, you’re so perfect for me. I’m gonna make you mine in every way—ruin you for anyone else, you understand?”
He lifts my leg around his waist, lines himself up, and watches me with burning eyes as he slowly pushes into me.
I tense, pain blooming sharp and bright as he meets a slight resistance, and then, with one gentle thrust, he enters me fully.
