Page 8 of Giving It to the Biker

“Shut up!” Spinning on her heel, she started toward her phone. She would call the sheriff, and get him to come down, and get Rage out of her apartment.

“Stop storming away from me. I’m not going to disappear just because you don’t like what I’ve got to say.” He grabbed her arm, pushing her against the wall.

“I hate you.”

“No, what you don’t like is that I’m right. You ever had a man fuck you until you can’t walk properly for days? Where your voice is hoarse from screaming from orgasm?”

“Get off me. That stuff doesn’t exist.”

She tried to push him off her, and they fought until Rage had her hands pressed against the wall.

“We’ll see about that.”

Before she got the chance to stop him, his lips descended on hers, slamming against them. She gasped at the impact, opening her lips, and Rage took full advantage, pressing his tongue inside. Penny stopped fighting him as heat spilled between her legs. Closing her eyes, she tried to press close to him.

Rage deepened the kiss, releasing her hands to sink one into her hair, and with the other he cupped her hip.

Penny didn’t push him away though. She grabbed his hair and held him tightly to her as she kissed him with same kind of passion that he was her. She’d never had a crush on Rage, never really liked him, but in that moment, she didn’t want to let him go. No other man had aroused her from one single kiss.

When Rage finally pulled away, they were both panting. His lips were red, and she imagined hers were as well.

“Where’s the bedroom?”

“You’re not going to ask me if I want this first?”

“I don’t ask. Where’s the bedroom?”

Penny didn’t even get to answer as he led the way straight to her bedroom, kicking open the door. He removed his hands from her body, and started to remove her clothing.

Stop him.

I don’t want to.

The look in Rage’s eyes startled her. He was filled with lust and need, and she didn’t want to stop what was about to happen. Never before had she been with a man who’d almost made her come just by a single, ravishing kiss. Both of her boyfriends required nighttime to have sex. They were the kind of men who liked to give her a peck on the cheek as a goodbye kiss.

This was the kind of passion she wrote about, craved in the darkest of night when no one was around. She wanted what Rage promised, begging for it every time a guy got close.

Rage grabbed either side of her shirt and tugged. Buttons flew in either direction, and he didn’t stop there. He didn’t ask for permission. He took what he wanted, and she was more than happy for him to take.

He’d just become her living, breathing, fantasy come true.

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