Chapter 7 - Holly

What am I doing? I'm sitting here punching this hulking, muscular biker like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. A man who has saved me not once but twice now without hesitation. A man who could so easily overpower me and toss me aside like a rag doll if he wished.

Yet Chance remains utterly still and unmoving, taking the blows against his chest without so much as a word of protest. It's like he's allowing me to vent my anger and frustration directly onto him, to unleash all the pent-up emotions swirling inside me in this bizarre way.

Finally, when my fists have gone numb, and I'm simply too exhausted to continue, I cease my ineffectual assault. I sag forward, resting my forehead against his skin as I pant harshly to catch my breath.

"I'm...I'm so sorry," I rasp out between gulps of air. "I'm just...done with men who only know violence. Who think hurting and abandoning the people who l-love them is okay!"

I brace myself, fully expecting Chance to roughly shove me away now, to snarl some harsh rebuke about how he doesn't need to listen to a hysterical woman's ranting. About how he'll treat folks however he damn well pleases, consequences be damned.

Instead, to my utter shock, I feel those powerful, muscled arms encircling me from behind. Chance tugs me flush against his body, holding me in a firm, unrelenting embrace as he rests his cheek atop my head.

"Wh-What are you doing?" I can't help but whisper in confusion, frozen in his unexpected bear hug.

"Dunno..." He rumbles, sounding almost as bewildered as I feel. "It just seemed like you needed a hug."

A surprised little laugh bubbles up from my chest at his simple, honest answer. This brutal, feared man - the terrifying Mercenary himself - is hugging me because he thought I needed it. Because despite all the violence and hardness he wears like a second skin, he still has the capacity for such gentle compassion.

Slowly, I let myself relax back against the solid wall of his body, resting my head against the firm plane of his chest. I can hear the steady thump of his heartbeat drumming in my ear, amazingly calming despite the dried streaks of his blood now staining my arms and clothes.

I lean back slightly in his embrace, tilting my head up to meet Chance's intense hazel gaze. His eyes are glinting with an emotion I can't quite read; lips parted ever so slightly as if begging for a kiss. The afternoon sun rays filter in through the nearby window, hollowing out the rugged lines of his cheeks and jawline.

"I'm surprised your heart is beating so fast," I tease, unable to resist the playful jab. "I thought you didn't have one in there."

Instead of getting riled or defensive like I expected, Chance's full lips quirk up in a wry half-smile.

"Oh, I got one, alright. It just… hasn't beat like this in a real long time."

The husky timbre of his deep voice sends a shiver rippling through me. Suddenly, it's like the world around us has melted away, leaving just the two of us frozen in an endless moment.

I can feel the thrumming of my own pulse pick up, blood roaring in my ears as the most delicious ache blossoms between my thighs.

Part of me knows I should pull away now, put some distance between us before this... this undeniable spark has a chance to burst into an inferno.

He's the owner of a biker bar, for god's sake - getting involved with a rough man like Chance would only lead to more chaos and danger in my life. What about Jayden? How can I reasonably try to steer my son away from that world while indulging in it myself?

And yet...when Chance's palm comes up to tenderly cup my flushed cheek, I feel rooted to the spot, unable to make my leaden limbs obey. I should say something, anything to break this heated tension before it consumes us both. But all rational thought has fled, leaving only desire coursing through my veins.

"This isn't exactly the place I pictured for our first kiss," Chance rumbles, his voice suddenly pitched lower in a tone that threatens to buckle my knees. "You deserve better than this."

Before I can formulate a response - not that my lust-hazed mind could likely string two coherent words together now - Chance's lips are over mine.

And like a woman lying parched in the desert being offered her first drought-quenching sip of water in days, I can't help but eagerly drink him in.

Chance doesn't waste a second more. With surprising ease, given his powerful musculature, he scoops me up into his arms like I weigh no more than a feather.

"I can't control myself any longer," he mutters. "Have never desired a woman as bad as I desire you. Ever."

I let my lips curve into a smile, already feeling deliciously lightheaded from the heady rush of lust singing through my veins.

"Then take me," I breathe, letting my eyelids drift shut. "Devour me however you wish, Chance."

His sharp inhale is loud in the heavy silence blanketing us.

"Don't go teasing a man like that unless you mean it," Chance growls lowly. "There is no turning back for me now—I'll be merciless with you. Ravage you thoroughly."

A shudder races through me at his blunt words. Some deep-rooted part of my sensible mind knows this is a mistake and that I'll undoubtedly regret this reckless lapse when reason and clarity inevitably return.

But the primal, carnal siren call is too irresistible to ignore.

"I know," I whisper feverishly. "I want that. I want you to take me hard like I've never been taken before!"

Chance needs no further encouragement. With powerful, purposeful strides, he starts carrying me away from the main area of the bar, angling us down a dimly lit corridor I hadn't even noticed before now. I blink in confusion as he comes to a halt before an unmarked door, shifting me in his arms to open it with one hand.

The sight that greets me is...underwhelming, to say the least. It's clearly meant to be a small living space, with just a narrow closet, battered nightstand, and full-size bed crammed into the tiny room.

"Is this...where you sleep?" I can't help but ask in surprise, craning my neck to take in the sparse surroundings.

Chance shrugs one massive shoulder as he shuts the door behind us with a nudge of his boot heel.

"It ain't much, I know," he admits gruffly. "But it's been home since I bought this place about a year ago now."

Before I can open my mouth to undoubtedly ask the wrong questions - to ruin this fragile, heated moment between us with needless chatter - Chance places me on the bed with surprising tenderness.

He takes a half-step back, eyes roving hungrily over my body in a way that has arousal clenching low in my belly like a delicious ache.

Sweet Lord, even spattered with flecks of his own dried blood, chest still heaving from the exertion of his earlier fight...Chance is the most impossibly virile, ruggedly handsome man I've ever laid eyes upon. I can hardly breathe for wanting him so desperately.

With the urgency of a starving animal, Chance throws himself onto me, hands already tugging insistently at my clothes. My shirt goes flying across the room first, quickly followed by my skirt, until I'm left in just my plain black bra and panties.

I've been with men before, of course—I didn't have Jayden immaculately after all. But I've never felt such a scorching, primal desire as what's coursing through me now just from Chance's heated gaze alone.

He doesn't waste a single second. Instead, his big, rugged hands are instantly roaming across my body with undisguised hunger - squeezing my thighs, grazing my curvy belly, palming my bra-clad breasts with delicious possessiveness.

"Gorgeous," Chance rasps out, sounding almost pained by the sight of me. "I want to taste every damn inch of you. But I can't wait no more - need to be inside you now."

I shiver at his cravenly blunt words, arousal spiking hot and heavy between my thighs. With a coy smile, I arch up against him.

"Then what are you waiting for, Chance?"

He needs no further prompting. In one smooth motion, Chance is off the bed and shoving his worn jeans down his powerful thighs, kicking them off with his boots. His grey boxer briefs do little to conceal the thick, throbbing bulge of his cock straining against the fabric.

He hooks his thumbs under the waistband, and those come off too. When his proud length finally springs free, flushed and achingly hard, I can't help the sharp gasp that escapes me.

He's beautifully, almost intimidatingly endowed - just the right balance of impressive girth and size that has my mouth watering.

Before I can do something embarrassing, like reach out and stroke him, Chance puts his fingers in the waistband of my panties and simply tugs them down my legs. The cool air caresses my wet pussy, my slick folds already glistening with arousal.

"Fucking hell," Chance groans, sliding one finger through my wetness in an approving glide. "You're so goddamn ready for me already…"

All I can do is nod dumbly, chest heaving as he positions himself between my thighs. His thick cockhead nudges against my entrance, seeming to swell even fuller just from that teasing brush of contact.

Then, with one slow, torturing push, Chance stretches me open and buries himself to the hilt inside me.

He doesn't give me a moment to catch my breath after that first deliciously filling thrust. True to his merciless reputation, he starts driving into me with long, powerful strokes right from the start - no gentle build-up, no teasing shallow thrusts to get me accustomed to his impressive size.

Just the relentless glide of his thick cock reaming into my tight, aching channel over and over.

His lips are parted, full and glistening with the sweat already beading on his tanned skin. Those hazel eyes are locked onto me, pupils blown wide with primal lust as the cording muscles of his arms and chest bulge and flex above me with each punishing snap of his hips.

The battered old bed beneath us groans and creaks in a protesting rhythm, sounding alarmingly close to just giving up entirely. But Chance doesn't seem to care in the slightest - he just keeps thrusting into me harder and deeper.

Reaching up with eager hands, he palms the lace cups of my bra and removes it, freeing my heavy breasts into his palms. A sharp cry escapes me as he leans in to place his tongue over one stiff nipple before sucking the entire generous mound into the scorching heat of his mouth.

My back bows off the creaking mattress as I grab onto Chance's thick biceps for dear life, thighs spreading wider.

His hips jack faster and harder, sweat beginning to bead along his tanned chest before dripping over the swell of my breasts.

I'm lost, drowning in the overwhelming sensations bombarding me from every angle, unable to cling to even a shred of control or dignity as my voice fills the tiny room with breathless shrieks and whimpering moans.

"Fuckin'...fantastic..." Chance pants harshly against the slick curve of my neck, "Such a sweet, tight little pussy...all mine now. You belong to me, Holly!"

Part of me knows I should protest, should cling to some tattered remnant of self-preservation before this crazed passion consumes me entirely. I don't belong to any man, no matter how intensive this rough lovemaking might be.

But then Chance's cock grinds against that deeply buried bundle of nerves in just the right way, and every rational thought immediately whites out into blank bliss.

"Yes!" I keen shamelessly instead, nails digging half-moon indents into the flexing slabs of his shoulders. "I'm yours, Chance! I belong to you! Just don't stop, please...keep fucking me just like that!"