Page 28 of Deranged (American Street Kings 3)

Her throat bobbed subtly as she swallowed, her lips glistening with sweet temptation. I was a strong man; I never doubted that. But right here, right now, I was weak with the urge to kiss her again.

I dropped my hand to her waist and pulled her closer, crashing my lips against hers. The taste of her exploded in my mouth, uncontrollable desire blasting right through my entire body. My chest, my stomach, my motherfucking groin—it all ached with a need to consume this woman, to take everything she had, even if she didn’t want me to.

With my hands on her waist, I turned, pushing her against my hog. The moan that rolled from her lips to mine ricocheted down my spine, only adding fuel to the fire burning in my core.

I tore my mouth from hers, my tongue lapping down the side of her neck. My taste buds were drunk, intoxicated from her flavor. “Now that I know your name, I want to know more.” Her hands were on my bike, her palms spread as she steadied herself while I pushed my body against hers as hard as goddamn possible. “I need more of your secrets, Dahlia.”

The sound that came out of her mouth right at that second was as powerful as a motherfucking hurricane, sweeping through me with such force, it fucking wrecked every shred of control I had.

She lifted her arms, placing them around my neck, weaving her fingers tightly through my hair, kissing me harder.

Goddammit. It felt like there was this ticking timebomb between us about to go off at any second, and we had to consume each other as much as fucking possible before it exploded.

My hands moved up her waist, and I didn’t think twice before reaching for her breast, palming it, kneading it, and not being fucking gentle about it. I was too lost. Too possessed with hunger and lust, wanting to bury myself inside her among all the secrets she kept hidden.

“Onyx,” she whispered as I sucked the skin in her neck, my palm still working her perfectly sized tit. “We can’t—”

“Don’t stop me.” I moved my lips up to her ear, my tongue sliding across her skin. “For the love of Christ, do not tell me to stop.”

Her hips bucked, moved, like she was searching for something—something I was real desperate to give her. A groan echoed from the back of my throat, and when I felt her push her chest out, liking the way I touched and played with her tits, I lost it.

Grabbing her waist and twisting her around, pushing my chest flush against her back, I wrapped my arm around her, reaching up to her throat.

I dropped my other hand down her waist, and cupped her pussy through her jeans. With my lips against her ear and her sweet scent wrapped around me, I murmured, “If I had to slip my hand into your pants, what would I find?”

I felt her throat move as she swallowed. “What do you think?”

All it took was a flick of my wrist to pop the button of her jeans. She sucked in a breath, and I smiled with goddamn victory. “I bet your panties are soaked.”

“Who says I’m wearing any panties?”

“Jesus, woman.” I closed my eyes and groaned before slipping my hand down her pants.

The second I felt her warmth, how fucking wet and swollen she was, I thrust my hips, pushing my dick against her ass, trying to alleviate some of the ache. God, it felt like my cock was about to burst—pun fucking intended.

She reached up, wrapping her arm around my shoulder, and spread her legs slightly, as much as she could while standing. Her body had taken over, and it wanted me inside her. It wanted me to give her exactly what she needed.

Reaching deeper, I pushed a finger inside her, and her body tensed against mine.

“I’m not who you think I am,” she said between labored breaths. “I’m not—”

With a yank, I jerked my hand out of her pants, placing a wet finger soaked in her arousal against her lips. “Shut up. I love your mouth, but right now I need you to shut it.”

She bit her bottom lip, and my hand was right back in her pants, stroking back and forth through her folds while teasing against her entrance with the tip of my finger.

She exhaled sharply when I filled her with two fingers, her hips moving on their own accord. “That’s right, buttercup. Fuck my fingers like you own it.”

“Onyx,” she moaned, her head lolling back against my shoulder. My cock was hard and ready, and I wanted to fuck this woman right here over my goddamn Harley. But I wanted her cum on my fingers first. I wanted to feel her pleasure gush into my palm while her cathartic moans dripped from her lips.

My thumb found her clit, and I circled the nub gently, giving just enough to take her to the brink of madness, yet not enough to push her over the edge. I wanted to play with her some more, torment her body until she could no longer fucking breathe.

“Please,” she started to beg, her sweet plea feathering like a melody against my ear.

“I love how you beg.” I continued to thrust my cock against her ass, the friction no longer alleviating, but intensifying the ache. God, dry humping was never my style, but right now it was everything and more, having her body against mine. Having my hand palming the apex of her thighs.

“Let me feel you come on my fingers.” I pushed my thumb harder against her core, working her entrance. Moans rolled off her tongue and across her lips, her legs shaking as her climax started to build until I felt her inner walls tensed and her entire body went rigid as her orgasm peaked.

“That’s my girl.” I continued to finger and touch her, determined to milk every last drop of pleasure from her body. Feeling her tremble with the last tremors of her orgasm was like an aphrodisiac straight from the belly of Aphrodite. Powerful. Potent. Intense. I didn’t think I’d ever wanted a woman as much as I wanted her.

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