“How do you want me?” she asked him.
“Just stay where you are.” Razor settled himself between her legs. He reached for his pants to grab a condom tucked in his wallet. He ripped open the packaging and slid it on. Then he hefted Nat’s legs over his shoulders.
He guided his dick to her entrance and pushed in. Nat groaned, raking her nails over his shoulders. Razor didn’t mind the pain. He marked her, so it was only right she left hers on his skin. Razor went in slow and steady, not wanting to hurt her, even though it tested his patience.
Finally, he sheathed himself fully inside her tight heat, and her inner muscles clamped around his shaft. He groaned, then started to ride her for real.
Razor began with steady strokes before settling on a rhythm that suited them both. He kissed her while he fucked her into the rug. When she bit down on his lower lip, he picked up the pace.
Razor took her fast and hard, going deeper with every turn. Sweat coated his front and back, and her moans sounded like music to his ears. Nat started meeting him for every thrust. Razor felt like an important part of him had drifted away, a piece of his soul maybe, to touch hers.
Sex with other women had been repetitive. Merely an act to satisfy a need. This was different.
Razor switched the angle of his push. This time, she cried out, gripping his biceps hard. He had found her sweet spot, and he repeatedly aimed for it again and again. His balls drew in tight against his body. Every muscle in his body tensed.
The next time he entered her, Nat screamed out his name. She climaxed, eyelids fluttering, never taking her gaze off him. Razor hammered in and out of her a few more times before erupting. Then he pulled his softening prick out of her.
Part of him wished there wasn’t a fragile piece of plastic between them. Next time, Razor wanted to ride her raw, to fill her cunt with his seed. If she became pregnant with his child, he’d be able to keep her forever.
“Wait here,” he said.
Razor hurried to the bathroom and disposed of the condom first. Despite the fact Grizzly seldom stayed here because it reminded him too much of the personal tragedy he had faced, Grizzly kept everything neat and tidy.
Razor found a clean towel from the shelf under the sink. He returned to Nat and cleaned them both up before he slid next to her on the rug again.
Nat snuggled next to him like a kitten seeking warmth. Razor automatically banded his arms around her. Silence descended on them, not the uneasy kind. Razor wasn’t sure how to describe this strange and calm mood that settled over them both.
With Nat, he felt like he could be himself. Being with her made him feel relaxed.
“I didn’t know sex could be that amazing,” she murmured.
He kissed the nape of her neck. “I didn’t hurt you?”
“No, not at all,” she said with a musical laugh that woke his dick right up.
He pictured her glowing and pregnant with his kid. In his head, he saw himself leading her to a modest-looking farmhouse. Delight would fill her face when she realized he’d bought her a house.
Razor froze. Where did those train of thoughts come from? Taking an old lady was one thing, but he never pictured himself as the picket-fence type of guy.
He’d live and die by the MC. The only glorious death was to die by the hand of the enemy while being loyal to the club.
Priorities could change, Razor reminded himself, but that fantasy of him and Nat settling down still frightened him to the core. Happy endings weren’t reserved for men like him.
Nat turned, and he loosened his embrace so she could look up at him. She trailed her fingers down his chest and abs, tracing some of his tattoos. Her fingers lingered on the wingtip of an eagle.
“How did you come by your nickname?” she asked him.
“The first man I killed, I used a razor blade,” he said, watching her face carefully.
She didn’t look away from him the way some of his hook-ups did when they finally realized Razor wasn’t completely sane. There was fear in her eyes, true, but there was also curiosity.
“Who was he?” she asked in that wonderfully soft voice of hers.
“My father,” Razor said. Few of his MC brothers knew this story.
“Did he deserve it?” she asked.
“He did. My father was a bully. He beat on my mom whenever he drank too much. I thought I put a stop to it when I nearly beat him to death with a pipe.” Razor paused. It had been a long time since he recalled those old memories. “I was on MC business and had to leave town. I found out he put my mom in the hospital. Then I found him in our trailer, drunk and watching TV. I grabbed one of his shaving razors, the old-fashioned kind, and slit his throat.”
Nat didn’t break eye contact. She pressed a kiss to his mouth and only said one word. “Good.”