Page 40 of Mad Max

He pushes my panties to the side and gives me no warning before he glides two fingers into me. I climb to my tiptoes and grab both his wrists to hold on. He gives me zero mercy and pumps into me several times before he pulls out and rubs my own juices over my clit. I’m shaking so much, knees buckling. I keep my bottom lip tight between my teeth as I try to hold back my cries of pleasure, but whimpers break free.

“Easy, Fairy. We don’t want anyone to hear you, do we? You might not get to see how the show ends.” He licks my earlobe, and I would outright fall if he didn’t have such a tight grip on me.

I roll both of my lips between my teeth, crushing them together to keep all sounds quiet. I can only hear my breath, and it’s so loud in my ears.

He moves his fingers slowly, never pushing me over the edge, just having me hang there. His left hand between my legs is doing all the work hidden beneath my skirt while his right is holding me up, just lazily rubbing on my skin. If Flint or Jules looks over at us, they might not even see that I’m getting finger-fucked while she’s giving a blow job. Sure, they’ll see us standing and watching like creepers, but I doubt they’d care. If they do, then they can move to one of the many rooms behind the many doors that line this hallway. I’m more surprised by the fact that I’m not even worried if someone walks up and sees me.

Well, duh! You had sex at a random house party in the kitchen. Riding a Hound’s finger in a dark corner of their clubhouse doesn’t seem so unexpected.

I move my hips, trying to get him to go a little faster or just hit that one spot he’s ghost touching. He smacks my pussy twice in quick succession, causing me to gasp till I groan.

“Not yet, Fairy. You don’t get to make the call here. Your beast does, and he says you can’t come till he does.”

I know exactly who he is, as I can’t keep my eyes off the couple down the hall. Every other part of me might be hyper-focused on Mad Max, but my eyes are paying attention to them. I hear their moans, but I half think they’re my own. Or from my beast.

I fucking love that he’s calling me his fairy and not shying away from my slipup at the coffee shop. ’Cause that’s what we are—Cheyanne and Mad Max, but also Fairy and Beast. We’re two parts: the part we share with others and the parts we share with each other.

I know neither of us expected there to be an us. I know no one else did. But it’s there. We fit; we mesh. We bring each other out of the dark in our own way.

“Oh fuck, Kitten.”

That’s the only warning I get before Mad Max becomes the beast I know him to be. He pushes a finger inside me, curving it to hit that perfect spot, and rubs circles on my clit that have me seeing stars. His other hand travels under my shirt and pinches my nipple hard as he bites my neck. I open my mouth to scream, though nothing comes out but heavy panting. I’m shivering, shaking in his arms as he continues his onslaught while I watch Flint reacting the same way as his woman drinks his seed down.

I miss the rest of their show as my beast pulls free and spins me so quickly into the room we were standing next to. I get zero warning, which I’m completely okay with, before he pushes me face down over the bed that’s just a few feet inside the room. I have no idea where we are—no lights are on, and the only reason I know it’s a bed is because of the soft mattress.

My skirt lifts over my ass a second before my panties are again pushed to the side as he fits his cock between my legs and drives home. He doesn’t stop, and I don’t want him to. One orgasm isn’t enough, just like one night with him wasn’t. I need more of him on both levels.

He grabs both of my arms and pulls back, using them as leverage to pound into me harder, faster. My face rises a few inches off the mattress, and the sounds coming out of me aren’t intelligible. I think I’m speaking but also moaning and screaming too. He’s hitting a spot inside me that no one has ever hit before. I think it’s the G-spot, but fuck the name. I just don’t want him to stop.

I have zero leverage to push back, to move other than how he wants me to. He pulls my arms back, jostling my body on his dick as he plows into me from behind.

“Fucking hell, Fairy,” he growls, then explodes inside me, and it sets me off again. The heaven I’m floating in isn’t as grand as the one before in the hall, but it’s more powerful. That’s the first time someone’s orgasm triggered my own. It’s a first for me, and I’m one of those who treasures each first. Especially since I can remember almost all of them down to the date, some even the time.

He gently lets go of my arms so I land softly on the mattress. I just stay like that, trying to breathe. Only then do I take a moment to realize that I’m smelling him because it’s his bed I’m on, not that I gained super smelling abilities after our little sexcapade.

He grunts as he pulls out, and I take that as what I’m sure he means it to be: "Get the fuck out, I’m done with you."

Only one minor problem.

“Sorry.” I take another breath and just lie there. “I’ll move as soon as I can feel my arms and legs.”

“Did I hurt you?”

I smile, though I’m not sure if he can see it as the lights are still off. “Nah, just got the life fucked out of me. It’s going to take me at least ten minutes to regain the power to move my limbs. Promise I’ll get up soon, just give me a second.”

He chuckles in that deep tone that’s distinctly his. Every guy in this place has a deep voice, but his is a deep baritone while the others are more like a growl. Oh, my beast is still all growly, just in a lower, more pussy-rippling way.

I hear him move, and then a light turns on behind me, but not in the room. I assume it’s a bathroom, as I hear the faucet running. I continue not to move, because I wasn’t kidding, my limbs are a bit liquid right now.

I scan the half of the room I can see. It’s not overly messy but lived-in. An armchair in the corner with some shirts on it. A dresser with a few drawers not fully closed. Even a bookcase that’s covered in more than just books, though it’s too dark to make out what lines the shelves.

The floor creaks a second before a warm, wet cloth glides up one leg. I shiver at the touch as he cleans my pussy and then my other leg. Another first, and I’m not a person to be embarrassed by such intimacy. But even I know that isn’t what’s expected of a biker after a quick fuck in his room.

He turns me and then undresses me. I tilt my head and just watch, not doing much to help.

I’m confused by him. He doesn’t trust me, but he takes great care with things like this. I know he’s not deceiving me, not trying to make me believe something that isn’t there.

If he isn’t shying away from whatever this is, do I have a reason to stay back? I don’t understand the way people do things most of the time, but I’m starting to understand him. And when he gets me naked, then himself, I don’t refuse his unspoken demand to stay.

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