Page 76 of Damascus & The Wildfire
“Fine,” he said, his tone amused. “What’s your favorite color?”
Merrick peppered me with first-date questions as we finished our plates. From childhood memories to first concerts, we fell into comfortable conversation as the sun set across the shimmering lake.
When the plates were cleared, Merrick pulled out a blanket and spread it across the grass. He handed me a plastic cup and filled it with red wine before cracking a beer for himself. Vibrant oranges and pinks streaked across the sky as we settled in to finish watching the sun sink below the lake.
His mouth captured mine, and my breath caught as the rough padof his thumb stroked my cheek. He broke away just enough to murmur against my lips, voice low. “I have one last question for tonight.” His hand curled in my hair. “Wear my patch. Be my old lady.”
I looked to the sky and responded in an exasperated tone. “First of all, that wasn’t a question. Second, what is it with you bikers? I don’t want to be called an old lady. I’m only thirty-one, for fuck’s sake.”
Merrick smirked as he listened to my tirade. “How about I just call you my lady? We’ll let you hit forty before we add the word ‘old’?”
“Forty isn’t old,” I shot back. “You’re forty.”
“Exactly.”
“Maybe fifty.” I huffed. “I’ll become an ‘old lady’ when I turn fifty.”
Merrick smirked. “Eva accepted her cut without a fight.”
I scoffed. “That’s because Reaper fucked her into submission.”
Merrick’s eyes darkened. “Is that what it’ll take?”
A wide grin spread across my face. “It’s worth a shot. You won’t know until you try.”
His growl vibrated through me before his mouth crashed to mine. He gripped my hip hard enough to bruise. His hungry, demanding kiss lit every nerve ending in my body.
A low moan slipped from me as his hand slid beneath my shirt, calloused fingers skimming my ribs until he tugged the fabric up and over my head. The cool night air licked at my skin, and my nipples tightened under the thin lace of my bralette. A shiver rippled across me in a way that had nothing to do with cold.
Merrick shoved the flimsy lace aside and sucked one puckered nipple between his teeth, biting sharp enough to sting before smoothing the sensation with his tongue. Heat coiled tight and low. I writhed under him, jeans already unbuttoned with one flick of his fingers.
As I wiggled them down, he leaned back on his heels,eyes blazing. The jingle of his belt filled the air before he yanked it free, looping it around my wrists in a smooth, practiced motion.
“Hands stay up here,” he ordered, pressing them above my head and tightening the leather. “You move, I stop. Understand?”
My pulse jumped. “Yes.”
“That’s it, Wildfire. Good girl.”
Excitement coursed through my body at his praise. I’d never understood the appeal of being bound, tied up at someone else’s mercy. Not until this moment. Surrendering to Merrick, trusting him completely, intoxicated me.
Reaching back, Merrick pulled his shirt over his head. I bit my lip as I took in his inked pecs and abs, sculpted by the hardened life he lived. My eyes traced the tattoos that covered nearly every inch of him. He leaned over me and began to gently kiss a slow-burning path down my chest and stomach. I instinctively moved my hands toward his hair, and he growled.
“Arms up.”
I sucked in a breath and obeyed. Yep, I was gone for this man. I finally understood the appeal of the dominant alpha male featured in the romance books stacked in my bedroom.
His mouth traveled down my chest, slow, deliberate, licking and biting a trail toward my stomach. My body arched toward him, craving more.
Then he settled between my thighs and glanced up with a wicked glint.
“As you noted earlier, no one will hear you scream. So scream for me, Wildfire.”
Before I could retort, his mouth was on me, tongue dragging over my clit.
A gasp ripped from me as my hips jerked off the blanket. “Oh, fuck—” He pressed my thighs down firmly with his hands, mouth devouring me with obscene precision. He alternated between tormenting licks and sucking pulses that scattered my thoughts. Icouldn’t tell if I was seeing stars because of the night sky or because of the way he ignited pleasure within me.
“Merrick,” I moaned. I clawed the picnic blanket with bound hands as I arched into him.
