She’d shattered like thin ice, crackling and breaking into tiny pieces, screaming out my name like a prayer. The sight of her was more enthralling than watching her sing on stage.
The woman had held my face to her pussy and jackhammered her hips, taking what she wanted. My sweet Angel wasn’t afraid to control me while I loved the shit out of her clit.
And her moans? They were like an erotic song. They almost had me coming right along with her. Almost.
I should’ve known I’d pushed her too far when she gasped and panted for what felt like days on end, crying out, oh Storm, God, oh fuck, Storm, oh mercy, Storm…
Fuck, her nails were sharp, too. Digging into my scalp as she held me in place. I’d almost pulled my face away, worried I’d die of asphyxiation.
But what a spectacular way to meet my maker. Buried in her sweet as honey pussy. Yeah, I would’ve died a happy man.
I hadn’t even had my cock buried inside her yet, but I already knew I was claiming her. Madeline was mine.
Mine.
I carefully climbed off the bed and pulled the covers back. I’d let Madeline sleep a bit before round two. And there would be a second go at it. I needed inside her and planned to knock her out again with a couple epic orgasms.
I chuckled to myself.I’m such a bastard.
Madeline’s limp body sagged in my arms. She didn’t stir as I tucked the blanket around her. Christ, she was so beautiful with her dark hair fanned out on the white pillow—a true angel. I ran my thumb along her jaw, memorizing the gentle slope of her nose and her perfect lips with a cupid’s bow.
This ache in my chest was new to me. I was sure it had everything to do with what tonight meant; what tomorrow would bring.
Being with me just might destroy Madeline’s innocence. But I couldn’t think about it now.
A noise came from the living room. I instantly tensed without boxers to pull on. I was a commando kind of guy, so I slipped on my jeans, zipped them but didn’t fasten the button. I crept out of the bedroom with my switchblade in hand. I was kicking myself for not bringing my 45 Auto. I’d given it to Track to take back to the clubhouse so Madeline wouldn’t freak out.
“Ahhhhh,” a woman screamed.
I put my hands up in the air. “Shh. You’ll wake Madeline.”
“Holy balls. You’re… you’re that… that... biker.” She stuttered, letting her purse drop on the floor like it weighed a ton of bricks.
I smirked. “Yeah, and you’re the… the... roommate.” I mocked her. Couldn’t help it. This gal was a riot, standing at the door, gawking like I was a celebrity in her house. I should’ve been honored, making her dreams come true, and probably her panties wet. I smirked again at the thought.
“Right. I’m Tara. Good to meet you.”
“Storm.” I shoved my hands in my jean pockets, hoping she didn’t see my blade. “I heard a noise, came to check it out. If we’re all good here, I’m going back to bed.”
“Wore her out, did you?”
I cocked my head, eyeing her and her cheesy grin. I suspected Tara was drunk. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Uh-huh, so you fucked her brains out.” Tara giggled, fanning herself. Yup, panties wet. Likely dripping wet by the way her cheeks flushed nearly the same color as her hair. No question, she was drunk as a skunk.
“Since you have all the answers, I’m going back to bed.” I turned on my heel.
“Hey, wait.”
I stopped and glanced over my shoulder.
“Don’t you dare hurt her. She’s a good woman. The best woman.”
“Noted.”
“I mean it. I might look innocent, but you don’t want to mess with a redhead. We have evil pulsing through our veins. Don’t test me.”
I chuckled as she swayed on her feet. I doubted she would remember this conversation in the morning. “You have my word.” And with that, I returned to Madeline’s room.