Chapter Eight

Stormy

Bullet found me a helmet. I smiled, and he grumbled as he buckled the chin strap. Then I climbed on behind him, wrapped my arms around him, and held tight as he rode us out of the MC.

Once we hit the old two-lane highway, we headed out of the city, cruised past the suburbs, and into the sticks. Clusters of trees lined the road. Dirt and gravel led to ranch-style houses.

After turning off the highway, we followed a frontage road about a half mile, then turned left. He slowed, pulled into the wide driveway, and killed the engine.

I climbed off the bike and stood still as he unbuckled the helmet.

“This is nice.”

Bullet lived in an older two-story house. The asymmetrical architecture was sort of a cross between a Victorian cottage and something from the old west. Rustic but posh with bay windows and a gabled roof.

The covered, screened-in porch wrapped two sides of the house and appeared to go around to the back. A huge barn sat in the distance. And a mix of chain-link and wood fencing stretched the west side of the property, and a concrete barrier marked the right. The back of the property bumped up against a dense forest of trees and scrub.

Bullet linked our fingers, led me up the wooden steps, and around the side of the house to the back door. The screen door squeaked as it opened and slammed closed with a clap.

He released my hand and tossed his motorcycle key onto the scarred and nicked wood table in the center of the rustic kitchen. The room was small and quaint. A coffeepot sat on the counter along with a toaster, and a few dishes turned upside down to dry on a tea towel.

“I’m going to grab a shower. If you’re hungry, there’s toast, or there might be an orange in the fridge. You’ll want to do the smell test on anything you eat. I haven’t been home in a couple of days.”

Somehow, he’d turned my thoughts filthy by osmosis. I’d spent one night in bed with him.

A flush heated my cheeks remembering the way he’d breathed me in, the feel of his tongue against mine, the way his hands had gripped me, holding me hostage for the assault of his mouth on my body.

I leaned my head back and groaned. There was no way I was going to be able to resist him. Those kisses had me wondering why I should even try. Bristol wouldn’t care. She shared him with his other kittens .

I could spend the next week with him, and once the danger from Emerson was eliminated, I’d walk. Not that leaving wouldn’t hurt. My heart had become invested that night in the warehouse.

But I wanted to be his only kitten. I’d want forever, and he’d already said he only lived for today.

There were two slices of bread left of a loaf. Canned veggies lined one shelf in the pantry next to the coffee and filters. As the coffee brewed, I opened cupboards, found a box of mac and cheese, packages of ramen, and an unopened package of cookies.

Inside the fridge, he had eggs and a package of bacon that still had a few days before it expired. I could make enough for both of us, but he never said whether he was hungry or not.

The hallway bisected the house. To the right there was an under-the-stairs storage, and an open door on the right. But the room didn’t look lived in. There was a king-sized bed with an old, wooden headboard and a vintage dresser. No knickknacks or personal items anywhere.

I followed the sound of the shower, continuing down the hall to the last door before the hall opened up to a cozy living room. Steam seeped through the crack, and Bullet’s low groan blended with the echo of water in an enclosed space.

I gently knocked on the door, the impact making the gap wider. More steam billowed into the hallway. “Bullet?”

Turning my ear to the opening, I listened.

Why was my heart racing? And why were these damn butterflies making me nervous?

A low growl sounded from behind the door, deep and dark and filling my mind with the memory of him in Bristol’s bathroom. I rested my forehead on the doorjamb. The spicy clean scent of his shampoo lingered on the steam.

“Bullet?” I knocked again. “Are you hungry?” Maybe I should just make the food. If he was hungry, he’d eat.

“Stormy?”

He said more but his voice was muffled. I think he said come in, so I pushed open the door and froze.

Oh shit.

Bullet stood behind a lightly frosted shower door, and even though it wasn’t transparent, the silhouette of his form was clearly defined. One hand rested on the shower wall, his head slightly bowed, and his other hand hovered near his groin. The slow movements conjured indecent thoughts of him naked, aroused, with water sluicing over his taut muscles as he pleasured himself.

As if sensing my presence, he turned his head. Even through the frosted glass, I felt his stare…everywhere. In the sharp electric pulse connecting my sensitive nipples and my over-stimulated clit. In the shiver along my spine, and in the moist heat of the steam clinging to my flesh. God, in the wetness between my legs.

“Are—are you hungry?”

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

He dipped his head under the spray. There was no doubt. He growled, and his shoulders rounded, letting the water rain down his back. His arm moved with a determined stroke .

My heart pounded with a matching tempo. I couldn’t catch my breath. And I couldn’t leave. He held me spellbound. He was raw, primal, animalistic.

The shower door slid open, and my gaze snapped to his.

“Do you want to watch, brown eyes?” His palm cradled the thick shaft, his thumb curving in a C over the top to circle the girth. Thick veins roped the length. The hardware in the crown glistened with wetness. Water soaked the dark hair surrounding the base and dripped from his heavy balls.

Salivating with want of a taste, I swallowed the extra moisture in my mouth.

“Eyes up here.”

My gaze lifted, and he stroked faster. Veins in his muscular forearms filled with blood and stood in relief against the sleeve of tattoos. But I couldn’t keep my gaze from lowering. Water slicked the grooves of his clenched abdominals. The dome of his dick darkened as he crept his thumb over the slit and pressed against the piercing.

I sank my teeth into my lower lip and squeezed my thighs together. A gush of fluids soaked my panties, and a whimper slipped from my lips. With a guttural groan, every muscle in his body tensed and flexed. With a hard pump of his cock, his balls drew up, tightening against his body, and jets of cum erupted from the slit.

He held me hostage with the power of his release. Cum splashed the tile of the shower, blending with the spray, and swirled into the drain. Water cascaded over his head, down his muscle-honed body, and rinsed away the evidence of his release .

With his hand braced on the tiled wall, he breathed deeply. His head tilted and our gazes held. I licked my lip, swallowed, and tried to catch my breath.

“Hand me a towel?” He turned off the spigot.

But I had yet to move. He pushed his hair away from his face, his biceps flexed, and his lips tilted as if he understood exactly what he did to me. The way my pulse fluttered, and how he made me tremble with his nearness. He made me question whether I should want someone who was defiant and dangerous. A man who pimped for his girls, yet he could make me melt with his smile and burn for his touch.

He stepped out of the shower, reached around me, and plucked his towel from the rack. Drops of water coursed down his torso, followed the trail of dark hair bisecting his flexing abdominals, and pooled on the floor.

He dried his face and wrapped the towel around his waist. “We keep blurring the lines of friendship.”

“When I knocked, you shouldn’t have told me to come in.” But I couldn’t find the will to regret witnessing him with his cock in his hand or the power and intensity of his orgasm.

He combed his hair with his fingers. “I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I said I’d be out in a minute.” He stepped up to the sink, grabbed his toothbrush, squeezed out some toothpaste, and stuffed it into his mouth.

My brows pinched. “That doesn’t even sound like come in. ”

“If I’d known you wanted to watch, I’d have left the door wide open.” He spoke around his toothbrush, then spit into the sink.

“Or you could have locked the door.” Why was I arguing? The man had no boundaries. “Don’t respond to that. I just wanted to know if you wanted your eggs fried or scrambled. I mean, I assume you’re hungry. Oh, and I made coffee.”

“I’ll get dressed and be down in a minute.”

I followed him out of the bathroom. He headed up the stairs of the old house but paused halfway. “Unless you want to see my room.”

I rolled my eyes and started down the hall to the kitchen. While he dressed, I set the heavy pan on the stove and started the thick strips of bacon frying. By the time he returned, I’d poured two mugs of coffee and had the bacon resting on a paper towel. Four eggs sizzled in the bacon grease.

Worn jeans hugged his hips, and a black T-shirt molded to his chest. “Smells good,” he said, popping open the back door and letting the crisp morning air into the kitchen.

“Thanks.” I loaded our plates with a slice of toast, several strips of bacon and two fried eggs each, then carried them to the table. I chose the seat next to him, facing the door so I could see into the backyard.

Birds chirped, and the wind whispered through the trees. The old house had a few upgrades, and just as much rustic charm with wood countertops and a cast iron farmhouse sink. It had that comforting feel of a lived-in home.

Bullet sprinkled salt and pepper on his eggs. He scooted his chair back, went to the fridge, and grabbed the hot sauce. He leaned down and kissed my neck. “Thank you for breakfast.”

His warm words of praise melted into me like the butter on my toast. He slid back into his chair. I couldn’t look at his strong, tatted fingers, or the rings glinting in the morning sun without my tummy tumbling. He piled spicy eggs on his toast and took a big bite.

I nibbled on a slice of crispy bacon. “How long have you lived here?”

“I moved in when I was twenty-two. First place I ever lived that felt like home.” He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of coffee. “I’ve given you my entire family history.”

With him, I was a contradiction of emotions. I did want to know more, but the more I glimpsed of the complicated man, the more I liked him. And I already liked him too much.

“If it’s a story like Cinder, I might not have a matching memory to share. I grew up in a middle-class neighborhood. It was just me, my mom, and my dad. No pets because my mom didn’t want to clean up after them. It’s probably a good thing I’m an only child. Mom hates messes.”

He paused before munching his last piece of bacon. “No brothers or sisters?”

“Not for lack of trying. My mom had a lot of miscarriages.” I licked bacon grease from my fingertips. “Other than that, I had a normal childhood, lived with my parents, school, dance, friends.” Then everything changed. “Then I met Emerson. ”

Bullet shook a cigarette from his pack, tucked it between his lips, and lit the tip. “How come you haven’t gone home? I’m sure your mom is worried about you.”

I scooted away from the table, grabbed the coffee, and refilled our cups. I couldn’t think of my mom without my throat tightening. “When I met Emerson, my dad wasn’t happy about the relationship, but I think my mom loved him more than I ever did. After my dad died, Emerson took care of everything. I’m sure he’s contacted her, which is why I haven’t. Her loyalty isn’t to me.”

I gathered the plates off the table and carried them to the sink. I looked out over the solitude of the backyard. The shelter of the trees, the isolation, the peacefulness. This was what I wanted. Someplace just for me.

“This place belonged to my dad’s parents. My grandpa built the barn, and this kitchen is just like my grandma left it.”

Bullet exhaled a stream of smoke from his nostrils. God, he was beautiful, and somehow, he belonged in his surroundings. In the MC, he was tough and gritty, wearing a cut to declare his loyalty to his club, but he belonged here, too. Quiet, clean, comfortable. Like the soft denim clinging to his muscular thighs.

“They were good people, but my mom had come between them and my dad. Last time they saw me was at my dad’s funeral. It was sad really because I didn’t have a memory of them.” He rolled the cherry of his cigarette in the ashtray and chuckled. “My mom found fault with most people. Once she was gone, they reached out. They wanted to meet. They were older, and I guess they looked past the tattoos and bad attitude because they treated me good.”

He stubbed out his cigarette, came up beside me, and grabbed the tea towel off the counter.

“I got to know my dad a lot better through them.” I washed and he dried, putting the dishes away as he talked. “Gramps died about a year later. I guess she couldn’t live without him. She died three months after he did. I’ve been out here ever since.”

I folded the dishcloth and stared out the window over the sink. “I could live here,” I whispered. “And just pretend nothing else mattered.”

Bullet tossed the tea towel onto the counter, curved his palm around the nape of my neck, and lifted my face.

Emotions welled in my throat, and my heart raced. I was so tired of battling with my conscience. I craved his touch and yearned for the brutal passion of his kiss. I understood he’d never be mine, but in this moment, I didn’t care.

I ghosted a kiss over his lips. A feathering touch of my mouth on his was my invitation to take whatever he wanted from me because I didn’t have the strength to fight against the gravitation pulling me to him.

A soft sigh slipped from my slightly parted lips. And then his tongue was in my mouth. Dark yet sweet, he pulled me in, his palm sliding to my ass and pressing me against the edge of the counter .

I rose onto my tiptoes, slanting my lips to his, swirling my tongue with his, and drinking in the taste of him.

“I’ll corrupt you, Stormy. Tell me to stop.”

“I’m already corrupted. You can’t break someone who is already broken. Don’t stop.”

His low growl rumbled into me, and both hands were on my hips, lifting me onto the counter. He shifted between my thighs. I was done fighting this. I’d touched myself, wrestling with my feelings for a stranger with gray eyes.

The memory of him had haunted me, but he was so much more. He’d planted himself so deep in my psyche he’d become a part of every thought, every emotion, every need.

I didn’t want promises, but I desperately needed him now. I wrapped my legs around him and devoured his mouth. His hand was under my shirt, his palm on my breast, and my nipple hard and prodding against the roughness of his touch.

I jerked open the snap of his jeans, the zipper growled as it lowered, and then my hand was inside his jeans.

We both stilled, our foreheads touching, as I measured the length and thickness of him with my fingers. Inside, I trembled. I stroked him slowly, the velvety skin slick beneath my fingertips. Our breaths blended, both silent, unwilling to rush the moment.

“I want you in my bed, kitten.” He gripped my hip, slid his hand under me, and filled his palm with my ass. His mouth slathered kisses along my neck. “I’m going to come with your hand. Squeeze me hard. ”

I glanced down at the open wedge of his jeans. His cock filled my palm. Pearly pre-cum leaked from the slit, and the pierced head darkened. I ran my thumb across the drops, gathering the slippery fluid, then released him and brought the essence of his arousal to my tongue.

I stared into his eyes as I tasted him.

“Wrap your legs around me.”

Locking my heels behind his back, he lifted me. Clutching him close, I kissed along his jaw, rasping my tongue against the stubble.

“Fuck, brown eyes, hold on.” He took the stairs two at a time. At the top landing, the second floor opened into a giant loft. Stunned by the difference between the upstairs and the downstairs, I stopped sucking on his neck.

A giant television hung on the wall opposite a massive bed. There was a seating area and wet bar on the left side of the room, and an open en suite on the right.

Bullet crossed to the bed, braced a knee on the mattress, and crashed his mouth into mine. As my back lowered to the soft down comforter, he came with me, unwilling to sever our connection long enough to take a breath. His palm slid under my shirt as I tugged on the hem of his.

We were a tangle of arms and legs as we attempted to undress.

“Fuck.” He leaned up and stripped his T-shirt over his head.

Shivers rippled his skin as I ran my fingers over his tatted torso, grazing the edge of his nipple ring with my fingertip. The scent of leather, cigarettes, and spice shouldn’t be this tempting.

Leaning over me, the fly of his jeans open and his cock stretching toward his navel, he licked my lips. Dark lust swirled in his eyes as he stared into mine. Like an approaching storm, I could feel the shift in air pressure, and the color went from calm to a darkening gray.

My tummy quivered as his knuckles brushed against me. I lifted my arms, and he tugged my shirt over my head. My nipples beaded beneath the silk of my bra. Breath rushed from my lungs.

I’d had one lover. I’d been fucked in different positions, but I’d never been penetrated body and soul. A ruthless and consuming need snapped painfully in my belly. I didn’t want to be another warm hole for him, not when he had the power to leave me emotionally bleeding. I didn’t want to think about the other women in his life.

“Get out of your head, brown eyes.” He slanted his mouth over my neck and cradled my small breast in his hand. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

His mouth and the touch of his tongue were a hot brand against my skin. He kissed along my collarbone, and I focused on breathing as he unhooked my bra and slipped the strap along my arm. My nipples hardened, sending a sharp ache into my pulsing clit.

His mouth covered my breast, and he sucked hard. I felt the tender pull from my nipple to my clit. He mapped my body with touch and taste, kissing along my belly as he tugged the snap of my jeans .

“Oh god.” I curled my fingers in his hair and arched into his mouth. “Please…”

He rose from the bed and peeled my jeans over my hips and down my legs. His gaze held mine. With the zipper already lowered, he shoved down his jeans and briefs. With a tight fist, he gripped his cock and stroked the length. The rings on his fingers glinted in sunlight coming through the windows.

I swallowed the extra saliva in my mouth. Emerson had been a good lover. At least I assumed he was. I had no one to compare him to, but he was nothing like the raw masculinity of Bullet. Muscles, mayhem, and a big dick. A really big dick.

He put a knee on the bed. “Spread your legs, brown eyes.”

The dark tone of his voice did wicked things to my pussy. Wetness seeped from inside me, soaking the crotch of my panties. I scooted into the center of his bed and opened my legs for him.

He braced on one arm, the cabled muscles of his forearms tensing as he rubbed the damp silk of my panties. This was the first time he’d touched me. The flex of his biceps and beat of my heart pulsed between my legs. Our gazes held, and his fingers slid under the elastic of my panties.

I couldn’t breathe, waiting for the first touch. Hooking a finger around them, his knuckles brushed my slit. Tingles rippled through me, and internally, I clenched, aching to be filled. I licked my lips, wanting him inside me.

“Bullet? ”

His jaw clenched as he snagged the lace and silk and tugged. I lifted my hips, and my panties slid down my thighs. He tossed them to the side.

The memory of him being in Scarlett’s mouth invaded my mind. I didn’t want his other women in bed with us, but I couldn’t forget the dirty things he said to Bristol just before he fucked her. Insecurity and jealousy slipped hot and toxic through my mind.

We both had history, but his wasn’t in the past. Those women were his present. I wasn’t his future, but I was tortured with a desperation I didn’t realize I had for him.

“Are you with me?”

I shifted my gaze to his. He hovered over me, concern in his eyes. “I’m here.” I traced the edge of his goatee with my fingers. “I’m with you. We need a condom.”

“Always, but we’re not there yet.” With a hand on each of my knees, he spread me open, stretched out on the bed, and covered my bare pussy with his mouth.

“Oh, fuck.” The first touch of his tongue had me fisting the blanket.

His deep chuckle rumbled from him and into me. “You have a pretty pussy.” The blade of his tongue sliced through my slit and wiggled against my clit.

Oh my god, he had a talented tongue. Heat centered on my core, his warm, wet mouth licked the length of me, and the tip of his tongue dipped into my center. “Feels so good.”

I sighed, letting my legs relax in his hold. My fingers sank into his hair, and he ate my pussy like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted, devouring my tender flesh with an unquenchable craving. And then he was there, circling my opening, and sliding his finger into me.

In the brightness of the room, I closed my eyes. My breath hitched, and my core clenched. A distant sound of a low moan rent the air. The murmured pleasure came from me.

Bullet’s hair tickled my thigh, and the rough scrape of his goatee sent shivers through me. His mouth was magic, flaring electric current through me. I wanted to grind against his mouth, but his strong grip on my thighs held me immobile. He licked and sucked, drinking the juices dripping out of me.

“Fucking sweet,” he said, dragging his tongue over the length of my pussy. “Sit on my face. I need to look into those brown eyes as you come on my mouth.”

Simultaneously shifting to his back, he lifted me and positioned me over his face, gripping my ass in his palm. I tried to hover, but his hold forced me lower.

I couldn’t resist sinking onto the heat of his mouth. The pressure of his tongue sliced between my lips, and he sucked my clit, intensifying the pressure and the pleasure. A tight coil of lust snapped.

A silent scream crawled up my throat. My body convulsed and trembled as I came undone. I gasped for air but couldn’t catch my breath. Our gazes fused together in a tense moment of surrender. A tightening in the pit of my stomach had my core contracting. My eyes watered. A million sparking flashes continued to shatter within me, and my orgasm made its way out of my body .

Bullet’s grip softened, and his licks gentled. I shifted off him. My juices glistened on his face. He leaned up, fisted his hand in my hair, and crushed his lips onto mine.

I whimpered, tasting myself, buckling under his intoxicating touch. Inching back, I licked his lips, cleaning his mouth of my cum. He growled, reached between my legs, and shoved two fingers into my core.

Aggression fired through me. I angled his head and devoured his mouth. In a feral need to give him as much as he was giving me, I pushed him to his back, straddled his hips, and rubbed my pussy over his thick cock.

The metal bar of his dick piercing abraded my tender folds and swollen clit. I swiveled my hips, relishing the smooth feel of his shaft sliding between my slit.

“If you keep grinding down on me, I’m going to come before I get inside you.” His fingertips dug into my hips as I ground against him and rode him hard.

I bent forward and sucked on his nipple. My palms braced on his chest, and his muscles flexed beneath his ink. Using the flat of my tongue, I flicked the piercing. His palms slid onto my ass and smacked my buttocks.

“We need that condom.”

I hummed a positive sound and trailed a path of kisses to his shoulder, sucking hard along his neck.

With an arm around my ribs, he flipped me to my back. “Don’t move,” he said and leaned to the edge of the bed and opened a drawer. I tried not to think about the other women he’d had in this bed, but the persistent images kept trying to invade my mind.

I kept my eyes open, filling my vision with Bullet. I couldn’t deny I was just another kitten hooked on his catnip and begging to purr.

With a plastic package in his fingers, he knelt between my thighs, and with a smile tilting his lips, he ripped it open. Pinching the tip of the condom, he stretched the latex over the head and his piercing and rolled it down the length.

“I didn’t think I’d ever find you.” He split my soaked slit with his cockhead. “I’ve dreamed of you, Stormy. So many times, I thought I was losing my fucking mind.” He stared into my eyes.

I traced his lips, and my fingers feathered along his jaw. “Me, too.” Maybe we were always meant to find each other again.

He grasped my wrist and kissed my fingertips. I lifted my thighs high on his flanks and curled my fingers around his erect cock. The crown notched my opening. With his next breath, he thrust into me.

I gasped, and my core contracted against him.

He sank deep, filling me, stretching me, penetrating me until there was nothing between us. And then he rolled his hips and drilled even deeper. My inner tissues melted, softening, gloving to his size.

“Fuck, you feel good.”

He retracted, paused for the reckless beat of my heart, then surged again. A guttural groan rumbled from his chest into mine. Banding my arms around him, I arched into him, meeting his thrust with the canting of my hips .

“You’re so deep.” I was going to feel him for days.

Braced in the cradle of my thighs, Bullet lifted onto outstretched arms, biceps tensing, and swiveled his hips, fucking me in ways I’d never experienced. He laced our fingers, giving me another point of connection.

Our gazes locked. This was just for us. Fighters, survivors, lovers.

I squeezed his hand tighter, riding a wave of dangerous currents. I could feel myself drowning in him. Sweat slicked my skin as he fucked me wildly. He railed into me. The slap of our bodies coming together blended with my gasps of breath and his growls of pleasure. Scents of sex saturated the air.

I wanted more. I wanted him deeper, wanted the brash and dangerous man with an insolent attitude towards a socially acceptable life and a fuck all arrogance toward any authority but his own.

I craved his scent on me, wanted him to mark me as his property. As he powered over my body, I accepted, for this moment, I did want to be owned. I tried to speak, to tell him to fuck me harder, to make me his, but couldn’t choke out the words.

“I’ve got you,” he said, staring into my eyes.

Quivers rippled his abdomen with each roll of his pelvis, his cock sliding in and out of me with a rhythm that had me keening closer to release.

My back arched, juices dripped from my center and soaked his cock. He glanced to where our bodies joined. “Look how good your pussy takes my dick. ”

With his hard cock tearing through me, intense pleasure seared throughout my body. Tension coiled low in my center. I was so close.

“Oh god,” I moaned, free falling into a light-headedness as my body convulsed. Spasms ripped through my pussy, and fluids gushed from my core.

“Fuck.” Bullet gripped my thighs, opened me wider, thrust my knees toward my ears, and pounded the fuck out of my pussy. Like a machine, he fucked me through one orgasm and into the next.

Tendons in his neck stretched, and his mouth pulled into a tight line. Veins bulged in his forearms, his firm grip holding me hostage. Thrust after thrust, he slammed his cock into me.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the power of his possession. With a shout, every muscle in his body seized, his cock swelled inside of me, and he came in hard, jerking pulses. He was beautiful to watch. His brows furrowed, jaw clenched, and his gaze rooted me in this moment, suspended in a euphoric high of pleasure. Harsh breaths filled his chest, but his grip on my thighs loosened, and my legs fell to the bed.

With a slight shift, his softening cock slipped out of my pussy, and the heavy weight of his body covered me as he held me close and breathed against my neck.

I wound my arms around his shoulders and held him closer.

Whatever this was between us, it was more than I could explain and nothing like I’d ever felt. With the way he clutched me, he had to be feeling it too, this wild and wanton recklessness. I combed my fingers into his hair.

Rolling to the side, he lifted my face and covered my mouth with his. The kiss was slow and sensual, just enough tongue to taste. One hand caressed my hip and ass, the other cradled my jaw.

I was acutely aware of him, the heat of his inked skin close to me, the way he filled the bed, the rise and fall of his chest. And the unspoken connection soaking the space between us. I could feel him over every inch of my body. This was going to change us.