Page 15 of Her Outlaw Biker
A sob escapes me and my eyes squeeze shut.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, kissing my face. “God, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I breathe. “It’s already better.”
He waits, barely moving, letting me adjust. Then he starts to move in slow, deep, careful thrusts that stretch me and fill me, stealing the breath from my lungs. The discomfort fades, replaced by the sweetest ache.
“You feel like heaven,” he growls. “So tight…so fucking good.”
I hold on to him, sliding my hands up his chest, slick with sweat. The way he’s moving, the way he looks at me…it’s too much, too real. My heart is racing, my body overwhelmed.
“Oh, Ghost,” I whisper, the words tumbling from my lips in a rush. “I can’t…oh my God!”
He groans like the words wreck him. “Clover…”
Then he loses rhythm, hips snapping harder, faster. The sound of his body meeting mine, the slick friction, the intensity…it pulls me under. My body coils, tightens, explodes. I come with a cry, back arching, muscles gripping him, and he follows with a growl, pouring himself into me, shuddering through his release.
When it’s over, he cradles me to his chest, heart thundering against mine.
And in that quiet, breathless aftermath, it dawns on me…Jack Maddox has branded me.
I’ll never be the same.
Chapter Six
Ghost
I’m running.
Boots thudding through dust and rubble, gunfire cracking like whips all around me. The air stinks of sweat, sulfur, and something worse—burning flesh.
“Clear the corridor!” someone yells behind me. “Maddox, move!”
I pivot, shoulder to the wall, weapon drawn. A shadow flits across my scope, too small, too fast.
I fire.
The sound is deafening. Muffled screams echo down the narrow hall.
But it’s not a man that falls.
It’s a kid.
Big brown eyes frozen wide, a stuffed rabbit clutched tight in his tiny hands. Blood blooms like a flower across his chest. He stares at me as if he’s asking why.
I lower my weapon. My hands won’t stop shaking.
Behind me, someone claps me on the back. “Collateral. Keep moving.”
No.
I whirl on him, but now it’s not a fellow soldier standing there. It’s a corpse in a leather cut, skull half-missing, and in its place…
It’s Clover.
Her lip trembles. She’s crying. “Why, Ghost?”
I blink.
