“Maybe I want that.” She knew she was playing with fire, but she’d never wanted to be burned alive more than she did right now with Scars.
He still had yet to move, and she wondered if he’d deny her this, but then he pressed his lower half against her, right between her thighs, and no amount of clothing, no barrier, could prepare her for what she felt.
The massive steel rod between his legs grinding against her sensitive, wet pussy.
A gasp of shock and pleasure spilled from her lips. He was huge, the length, the girth... enough to have her unrealistically wonder if he’d fit inside her.
His mouth was right back on hers, and she melted against him, let him lead… let him take her away.
14
Christ. She feels perfect in my arms, against me, her body so giving. She’s mine.
Scars was lost in everything that had to do with Hannah.
He should have stopped this, taken his time, but something in him had been unleashed. Her mouth was hot and sweeter than anything he'd ever tasted, and he couldn’t get enough.
I’ll never get enough.
He swept his tongue into the wet cavern of her mouth and stroked it along hers, eliciting a moan from her, needing to hear that sound again. He wanted it echoing in his ears as he was on top of her, his body blanketing hers, his cock seated deep in her tight little pussy.
I should go slow, he thought, but a beast had been awoken in him.
She gasped when he slid his hands over her back, his palms curving over the slight slope of her ass. He brought her closer to his erection, grinding the massive fucker against her. His cock jerked at the feel of her softness, at how she molded perfectly to him, as if Hannah was made solely for him.
Touch me, he thought, needing it like he needed food in his belly to survive, like he needed air in his lungs, blood in his veins.
Like he needed Hannah in his life.
He groaned, “Hannah.” And when she lifted her hands and smoothed them up his chest and around his neck, having to rise on her toes because she was so much smaller than him, a harsh groan was once against ripped from him.
She was as close to him as two people could get, yet it wasn’t enough. It will never be enough.
Scars didn’t know what he was doing until he realized he was leading them out of the garage. He lifted her easily, knowing that if this was going to happen, it wouldn’t be in the filthy fucking shed with the scent of grease clinging to the air. He wanted her in his bed, surrounded by his things, covered by his scent and body.
She had her arms wound around his neck, her legs around his waist. She weighed nothing at all, a feather in his arms. He was in the cabin and striding to the bedroom while he took her mouth fiercely, licked and sucked at her, just let this raging inferno consume both of them.
Tightening his hold on her once in the room, he shifted and heard her moan. He set her on the dresser, the closest thing he could use so he could cup her face, tilt her head even more, and kiss her more thoroughly. Her legs opened a little more, and he fit himself between them, feeling the heat of her pussy, pushing his stiff cock against her softness. Clothes separated them, but he swore he could feel her wetness, knew she was primed and eager.
Grinding himself into her over and over again, Scars grunted and tried to slow down, not just for her but himself as well. He didn’t want to be too rough, too raw with her. She deserved sweet and gentle.
He broke the kiss and sucked in a ragged breath, trailing his lips down her jaw, over her neck. She let her head fall back, giving him access to her throat, letting him lick and suck, making her feel good.
“Do you really want this?” he asked again between kissing and sucking, licking and feeling her tremble in his arms. Scars needed to be sure. He wanted her completely willing, 100 percent ready for him and what that entailed. “Because once we start, I won’t stop.” He pulled back. “I won’t stop until you know without a shadow of a doubt that you're mine.” He knew this could scare her off, ruin everything, and have her leaving. But Scars was willing to take that risk. She had to see this wasn’t just a one-off for him, a one-night stand that meant nothing.
It means everything.
She stared into his eyes and nodded slowly.
“No, tell me, Hannah. Let me hear the words come from those pretty lips of yours.”
“I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you, Scars. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you, Mickey.”
He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, breathing roughly. No one called him by his given name anymore. He was always Scars, President of the Vicious Bastards MC. And he’d been good with that. He liked it that way. But hearing Hannah call him Mickey did something funny in his chest. It made him want to be the man she deserved.
It made him want to be her everything.
“You're mine,” he growled and kissed and nipped along her jaw. “All mine. No one else will have you.” She tightened her hands around his neck and brought her body flush with his.
“I don’t want anyone else.”
A gasp left her when he ran his tongue along her throat. “I need you so fucking badly, Hannah. So much I ache deep inside, a place no one has ever touched.”
“God,” she moaned. “Same. I feel the same.”
He had his hands on her waist and pulled her to the edge of the dresser then ground himself against her again. Her nails dug into the back of his neck, and he hissed in pleasure from the sting of pain.
Scars continued to run his tongue the rest of the way up her neck and to her mouth. He let his hands slide over her waist to the front of her jeans. He gave her a minute to stop him, but she didn’t. In fact, she lifted her hips closer. A growl left him as he flicked her button undone, smoothing his fingertips along the smooth, warm strip of flesh that he felt.
Gripping the edge of her jeans, he started pulling them down her legs, wanting to feel her… taste her. Scars needed to get her ready, wanted her so soaking wet for him that her cream slipped down her inner thighs. Then he’d lap it up, swallow it, beg for more.
“God, Scars,” she breathed out. “I’ve never felt this way before.” She murmured it against his lips, and he felt her hands reach between their bodies, felt her tug at his jeans.
“Please,” she begged.
“You don't ever have to ask, Hannah. Everything I am, everything I have is yours.”
She popped the button of his jeans free, but he felt wild and frantic, gently moved her hands out of the way, and did it himself. He shoved the denim down, taking his boxer briefs with them so the material now hung off his thighs. And when he pulled back, stared into her eyes that matched his own heavy-lidded, arousal-crazed ones, he knew she needed to be good and primed for what he planned on doing to her.
He dropped to his haunches between her spread legs, had his hands on her inner thighs, and pushed them open a little more. The little white panties that covered the most intimate part of her blocked his view of what he craved so fucking much his mouth watered for a taste.
He could see the center of the fabric was soaked, her arousal going clean through those feminine underwear. The smell of her wetness filled his nose, and he closed his eyes and made a deep noise that came from the center of his chest. His cock was solid, rock-hard, precum a steady drip from the tip. He opened his eyes and reached out, his hand shaking slightly as he trailed a finger along the edge of her panties, right where they were tucked against her pussy, and then he gently pulled the material aside.