Vexed (Iron Bulls MC #4)(7)

By: Phoenyx Slaughter


“You want me to stop?” Christ, I hope she says no, because I don’t think I could stop if my life depended on it.

“No. Harder. More. Please.”

The look on her face is saying anything but harder. But it’s what she asked for, so I give it to her. She grunts and takes it. “Let me in, baby. I know how bad you want it, just relax and let me in.”

Finally she loosens up a little and a few strokes later she seems happier. Her hips jerk up and her moans grow louder.

“That’s it. Good girl. You gonna come with my cock buried in you?”

“I don’t know. I want something. I…I…”

She trails off, because I bend down to suck one of her nipples into my mouth, and one of my hands reaches between us to stroke her clit. She tightens and thrashes under me. “Fuck, Reed! Right there.”

Thank fuck, now I can plow into her. She keeps yelling, and I fuck her like she’s the last fuck I’ll ever have, grabbing her hips and slamming myself inside her over and over until her pussy clenches around my dick.

She’s flushed and sweaty, tears rolling down her cheeks, but it’s the smile on her face that makes me lose it.

Maybe I’m lightheaded from the load I just poured into the condom, but the emptiness I usually carry in my chest is gone. Replaced by this girl. Strangely, I want the feeling to last.





That was so worth waiting for.

I’m so glad I never did it with Bobby.

Both are probably inappropriate thoughts with Romeo still inside me, but I can’t help it.

He brushes the hair off my forehead—a sweetly tender gesture made even sweeter when he presses his lips there. “Are you okay?” he asks.

The hot, demanding, growly biker I’ve known for a few weeks, who soaked my panties every time I got within ten feet of him? Turns out he’s hard on the outside but sweet and gentle on the inside. This guy makes my heart want to jump out of my chest and into his hands.

And that’s not what I want out of this.

I’m not stupid. There’s no way this ends in some fairy tale where the hard, older biker, and the young, virgin ride off into the sunset together. We’re not making babies—gross—nor are we going to play house together—double yuck. It may have worked out that way for my best friend, Karina. The kind of lightning she and Dante have won’t strike this clubhouse twice.

Not a problem. I don’t want that anyway. I’m leaving for Los Angeles tomorrow. No man—no matter how hot he is, no matter that he just took my virginity and is staring down at me in a way that says he’s got no intention of letting me leave his bed, is going to stop me.

At least he’s given me some very pleasant memories to take with me to California.

“Athena, did I hurt you?”

I wriggle a bit and take a deep breath—or try to. “No. But you’re crushing me a little.”

He chuckles and rolls to the side. “Be right back.”

When he returns, he’s naked and I’m torn between trying not to stare and trying to count the ridges of his abs. The sheet I’d pulled up to my chin is ripped away by his free hand as he settles on the edge of the bed. Without asking or hesitating, he parts my legs and wipes me down gently with a warm washcloth.

I’m too mortified at the intimate, matter-of-fact way he performs the simple act to move or speak.

“You’re the prettiest shade of red right now,” he says in a low, gravely voice that makes my insides shiver.

I dare to glance up and find him staring at my face. We stare at each other for a few seconds before he takes the washcloth back into the bathroom. When he returns, he yanks the sheet I had burrowed back under off me again. “Stop trying to hide yourself from me,” he growls, climbing on top of me. He settles himself over me, his weight barely brushing against my body. Hands. Where should I put my hands?

His arms. The rolling muscles of his biceps, the colorful ink decorating every inch of skin. Good Lord, he’s my own personal arm porn. My hands brush against him, then squeeze, marveling at how hard he is.

“Christ girl, you keep staring at my arms that way, and I’m gonna have to fuck you again. Not sure you can handle it.”

“I can handle you,” I whisper, even though I’m not quite sure that’s true.

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