Page 32 of The Chase

Fucking brute.

But he carried on anyway. He didn’t fucking care. He ground his hips into the mattress again.

Again.

Again.

It felt so good. It felt so wrong. How had she ended up on top of him, behind him? Rubbing her hips against him. He laid underneath her, a mindless wreck of a man. No longer a man. An animal. She built him up and cut him down all in one move.

“Fuck fuck fuck...” he heard himself chant. What were they doing? Rutting like their lives depended on it. How unhinged had they become together, they weren’t even the right way around. And he heard her yowl, felt her shudder, and knew that she had driven herself over the edge.

He was a burning fuse. He knew it, he felt it. He needed this. He was about to blow. He allowed himself to. He felt he could now. He reared up, unable to take it anymore.

“I need to come,” he rasped. April moved to the side as he grabbed himself. Dick, balls and all. And he yanked once. Hard. And came. Hard.

He felt his juice shooting out of his engorged cock. He came everywhere. He almost choked on the bliss of it. He heard himself groan. He felt his eyes sting with stars.

He forced them open to watch the streaks of cum spit on himself. On the sheets. On her. She looked at him with wide, wild eyes as his cum spurted onto her. Her thigh and stomach. Marking her. Fucking animal. But she was his now. He hated himself and loved himself at the same time. Hated what he’d done. Loved what he’d done. He’d come in a burning trail of desire so palpable he practically choked on it.

“Fuck me.” He looked on at what he’d done, his work of art. Panting, chest heaving. He heard her heavy breathing, too. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling it back from his face. He was a sweaty mess. He felt the liquid heroin of quenched desire in his blood.

But now his rationality was catching up. Again. Thoughts and logic thundering along like a heavy truck, bringing up the rear defiantly. He’d just dry humped a mattress, then come all over April. What was he, thirteen? An inexperienced loser? He had said he would wait for a bed, he would wait to do it properly.

Fuck, they hadn’t even had sex. He was feeling like a god when he hadn’t even found the ultimate satisfaction. And damn, now she was just covered in sticky cum. She’d had to ride his ass, literally, to get herself off. What the fuck had he done? Yet again, he’d fucked it up. He met her eyes and couldn’t face what he thought he saw. Surprise, shock. Complete disbelief.

“Colt, that was-”

“Kitten I- “

“...one of the hottest moments of my life,” she spoke over him to finish.

“I... what?”

“I’m... that was... you let me... and then we... and you...” she gestured to the glistening liquid on her body.

He raised an eyebrow. Damn, that was the last thing he expected her to say. “What was the other hottest moment of your life?” he asked, buying time to assemble the shreds of his tough guy persona. She smiled coyly. It went straight to his cock. Filthy thoughts thundered through his brain. He wanted to fuck her so badly it hurt.

“When you plunged your fingers inside me and begged me to stop you… when you yanked off my boots and lifted my leg and plunged into me on the back of a stolen bike…” she said, raising her chin with defiance, letting a finger of hers lightly trail through a droplet of his cum on her stomach. Daring him. Goading him. She wanted more. She was loving this and she wanted more.

He was a dead man.

“Fuck.” He breathed out of his lungs. He felt a warm buzz pulsing out of his chest. He knew that feeling. He’d felt it before. He’d follow her into the fiery pits of hell if she asked him to. He had to get out of there before it was too late and he did or said something stupid.

“Gotta have a smoke,” he managed to wheeze out. His body jolted into action. He grabbed his jeans and scrambled down the bed, toward the backdoor. His pulse hammered in his ears. His legs felt boneless. Stumbling out of the van, he slammed the door behind him. Goddamn, his briefs were damp. The cool night air nipped at his body. He peeled off his underwear, wiped himself down with them, then chucked them on the ground. Naked, he had a quick glance around.

Things were quiet, thankfully, no one was about. He should have checked before he’d stripped. But he never learned, always acted first, then thought later. Fucking animal.

He put on his jeans, commando. Not that they did much to stop the night chill from enveloping him. He patted his pockets until he found the cigarettes and lighter. He plucked one out with his thumb and forefinger, jabbed it in his mouth and lit it. He inhaled deeply. With the nicotine entering his blood and the hot smoke at the back of his throat, he started to pace.

Fuck, he should just own what happened. It was hot. April seemed to enjoy herself, he had enjoyed himself. Face down in soft sheets that smelled of her, thrusting wildly, not holding back. Indulging himself in his desire for her. And her, rubbing herself all over him, pushing herself into him, needing him for her own pleasure. Both of them united in their chase. He raised his head. The moon was out, maybe a full moon. Or almost full. It was half hidden behind some fluffy clouds, lit up from behind. It looked moody. Haunting but beautiful.

He should go back in the van and have hot, sweet sex with her, tenderly and deeply, for what was left of the night. He needed to just stop, now. The endless cycle of hating himself, ruminating on the things he’d done, or not done, on how he wanted it to be. He was beginning to annoy himself. What was he doing out here, smoking? He flicked ash off the tip of his cigarette and stared at it. She said she didn’t like it. He’d cut back, avoiding doing it around her. Pussy whipped already. But no one had ever cared enough about him to tell him to quit. Until now. He’d finish this one then go back in. If she was still up for it, he’d take what he wanted, what he’d always wanted. Her.

He blew out a plume of smoke and tossed the cigarette away. Did she have condoms? He didn’t, would she have bought any? If so, where did she put them? He’d buy some, at the next stop, keep a few in his wallet, he thought with a smile. He felt himself beginning to get hard at the thought. He took a moment, looked up at the moon and thanked his lucky stars that he was even able to think about condoms and April in the same sentence.

He slammed the back door of the van on his way out. Not because he was angry, just because he was a heavy handed biker. Who had just come all over her. Jesus, she was glad he got out for a moment. She needed to collect her thoughts, which spurted around her head messily just like his cum had. And was now all over the place with the potential to cause trouble.

She was having a hard time remembering this was just a fast ride with a bad boy. A taste of the other side of the tracks, crazy sex, then return to normality. But now she knew she was in trouble because she preferred this side of the tracks. Turned out she was falling for this biker bad boy, because he was a good man, after all.

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