Page 85 of Claimed By the Bikers
I spread her thighs slowly, settling between them, my breath warm against her pussy before I lick her folds.
She bucks gently. “Shit, that feels so good, don’t stop.” Her voice breaks as I circle her clit, sucking lightly, my hands gripping her thighs with controlled strength to keep her secure.
She trembles under me, legs shaking as I work her higher, fingers slipping inside her pussy and curling carefully to hit that spot, pumping slow and deep.
“Atlas—fuck, right there, it’s so intense,” she cries, her walls clenching around my fingers, her juice coating my fingers as Ilick her clit faster, building her pleasure without rushing. I hold her hips down gently, keeping her steady, light from the window highlighting the flush on her skin as she writhes, safe in my grasp.
“I need you inside me,” she pants, pulling me up, her eyes dark with want, and I position myself carefully, cock hard and throbbing as I slide into her tight heat, inch by inch. “You’re so big, filling me perfectly,” she moans, nails raking my back lightly, her legs wrapping around me as I move with measured rhythm, careful not to jar her.
Her breaths quicken. “Harder, but slow—yes, like that, that’s amazing.”
I obey, thrusting deeper, my hand slipping between us to rub her clit in circles. She clenches tighter. Her pussy spasms as she nears the edge, her moans filling the room like music.
I kiss her neck, whispering, “Come for me,” my voice rough, holding her body secure as she shatters.
She comes apart, crying my name, her pussy pulsing around my cock, as her body quakes in my arms.
I follow, thrusting deep one last time, cum spilling hot inside her. We lie tangled, her head on my chest, my hand stroking her back softly.
“Tell me about before,” she says suddenly.
“Before what?”
“Before the military. Before Afghanistan. Before everything that made you who you are now.” She tilts her head to look at me. “You joined the Army when you were young. What were you doing for the first two decades of your life?”
I’m quiet for a moment, stunned by the question. But lying here with her, our child growing beneath my palm, I find myself wanting to share pieces of my past I’ve never told anyone.
“I grew up in a town called Millfield, about three hours south of here. Population eight hundred on a good day.” I stare at the ceiling, remembering dusty streets and the smell of hay in summer. “My father owned the local hardware store. My mother taught third grade at the elementary school.”
“Small-town life.”
“Very small. Too small for a kid who dreamed of seeing the world.” I shift slightly, settling her more comfortably against me. “I spent my childhood reading military history books, watching war movies, planning my escape to somewhere important.”
“Did you go straight to college after high school?”
“Community college. Two years studying business because my parents thought it would give me stability.” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Accounting classes and marketing fundamentals while all I wanted was to do something that mattered.”
“What happened after you finished?”
“I came back home. My father had a mild heart attack right before I graduated, needed help running the store. So I moved back to Millfield, thinking it would be temporary.” I run my fingers through her hair. “Temporary became two years.”
“That must have been frustrating.”
“Two years of selling nails and paint to the same customers, listening to the same complaints about the weather, watching the same sunset over the same fields.” The memory tastes bittereven now. “I was dying inside, but I couldn’t leave. My father needed me. My mother worried about his health. The store was our family’s livelihood.”
She shifts against me, her hand finding mine. “Were you seeing anyone then?”
“Rebecca Miller. Doctor’s daughter, smart as hell, wanted to marry me and raise babies in the house where I grew up.” I feel Ember’s fingers tighten slightly. “Beautiful woman. Kind. Everything a twenty-year-old guy should want.”
“But you didn’t want that?”
“Every time I looked at her, I saw my whole life planned out. Take over the hardware store, have kids, become another face at church on Sundays complaining about property taxes.” I press a kiss to the top of her head. “Rebecca could see me getting more restless every month. She knew I was going to leave eventually.”
“So what made you finally do it?”
“September 11th.”
She goes completely still against me.
