25. Riley

twenty-five

Riley

Cam's chest heaved, his blue eyes wide and wild, as he shoved his still shaky hand through his hair. Afraid to touch him, in case he exploded into a mess of adrenaline and chaos. I stood several feet away and watched him.

I didn't dare take my eyes from his.

He grabbed my face and kissed me hard. His lips and tongue as hot and urgent as the hell bent for leather ride we'd just been on. The hand that slid down my back and gripped my ass was just as dangerous.

He broke the kiss on a raspy moan and licked his lips. "I need you before I do something really stupid."

I shouldn't have been that turned on, but I was already wet for him. My body openly defying and betraying the anger that hummed somewhere beneath the desire. My physical need buried it, which was why I pressed my lips to his throat as I rubbed myself against him.

He shrugged out of his vest, slipped the holster and pistol from his side, and placed them on the ratty dresser by the door. The gun in his back followed, then leather and boots hit the ground with thuds as he walked me backward.

Cam kissed me the entire time. My lips, his tongue flicking against mine, my jaw, my neck, and lower across my cleavage as he pushed me onto the bed.

Hovering above me, a shock of blond hair falling into his face, he stopped. "I can't be easy, here, darlin." His entire body trembled now. When he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it, the muscles across his chest quivered.

I reached out and brushed my fingertip across his chest before he caught my hand. "I mean it."

He was giving me an out, afraid that my lack of experience would make this a scary thing. It wouldn't. I trusted him. If he needed it rough, then I wanted it that way. Excitement lit, white hot and biting inside me when he shed the last of his clothes.

"Was everything you said at the bar bullshit?" But I had to know. "Is it just that you want to fuck me or is it something more?"

"So much fucking more." He came back to me, panting, nipping at my lip. "How could I want anyone else when I have you? I can't stop thinking about you, I can't picture anything else but you. Riley—it's you."

He cupped my groin, pushed his palm against the part of me that was already hot for him. My hips bucked. I should be shy, I wasn't. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or Cam himself, but every part of me was desperate for his hands, his mouth…for the cock that pressed against my thighs as he tugged at my waistband.

"Take it all off." It was me he barked orders at now, nipping through my shirt and down my stomach.

I did as commanded, pushing the shorts he'd unbuttoned down my hips.

"Leave the boots." He was already jerking my shirt up and over my head as I shifted. I couldn't be sure how I managed to wriggle free of my bra, but Cam's eyes caught mine when he clutched the crotch of my panties and gave them a tug.

His knuckles brushed my slit, and he watched me. "You want it bad, don't you?"

"Yes." I bucked again, and he jerked them all the way off.

Cam grabbed a condom from the tiny bedside table, ripped into the package with his teeth, and pushed it on in one quick, practiced motion. Then he tossed my boot clad legs over each of his arms and pressed into me.

Everything happened so fast. One second, I was trembling with anticipation and the next my legs were spread wide and my knees were pushed against my chest. I was full of him as he groaned low and long, his expression just as fierce as it had been when he'd pulled his gun.

My heated skin prickled, my breath caught, and when he moved, pleasure arced through me in electric bursts. Savage. His lovemaking then lived up to his name. Each thrust harder, faster, than the first, until all I could hear was our skin slapping and the bed creaking.

I gripped the multicolored crocheted blanket beneath me. My fingers slipped between the oversized holes and wrapped around as he arched, folding my body in what should be an impossible position.

This way, my knees over his elbows spread me so wide that it felt as if he might split me open. The friction built too fast, like my heart and my mind were racing to catch up with what he was doing to me.

Just like everything else.

I whimpered, moaned, and twitched as my orgasm raced closed.

"I want to hear it." He gasped. "I want them all to hear it, baby."

He thundered into me when I came. Not shy, no, not now and maybe never again. I came screaming. "Cam, Cam, Cam!" Over and over as pleasure rocketed with my orgasm, coating him, me, leaving me panting and my skin wet.

Several thrusts later, Cam tossed his head back and moaned long and loud before dropping my legs and collapsing heavily on top of me.

"Holy fuck." Was all he said between panted breaths.

And that summed it up perfectly.

***

Cam rolled off me and pulled me close, tucking me against his side. The music no longer beat from downstairs, so the only sound was our ragged breathing and the thump of Cam's heart against my face as I snuggled into his heaving chest. I got lost in the rhythm of it until my heart matched his. So much of my life was gone, dead, or taken away. But Cam was here, real, and alive.

When the air-conditioning kicked on and I shivered as the cool air met my slick, hot skin, he pulled the brown and orange blanket over us.

The rush of the chase, of the sex, faded and his pulse slowed. I was left floating on this buzz of misplaced emotion. I was strangely happy. Everything I'd been taught, society, and my life said I shouldn't be.

"Is it always like this?" I asked. My voice hoarse and my throat slightly sore from the chase, the aftermath, and then the sex.

"Sex?" He was sleepily confused, stretched out beneath me like a sated cat.

"All of it. Today, the sex, this part…" The last being the most important. I didn't realize how much it was until I lay there with Cam holding me. I needed this intimacy that filled an empty place inside me I hadn't realized existed.

"Yes—no." His chest shifted on a deep exhale. "I'm sorry about all that shit today. But I can't say it's not normal." His voice was all rough and sexy. "It used to not be, but—" Then he chuckled. "The sex gets better each time I'm inside you. Who knew you were so hot in bed?"

I sat up and smacked him square on the stomach. He oofed a laugh. "I'm serious. You're the best I've ever had."

When I shot him a yeah right look, he sighed, thought about it, then climbed from the bed and padded to the bathroom. I watched him. His ass was firm and tight. I'd never thought a guy's ass could be so hot and yet his was.

The water turned on and he came back, cleaned up, and crawled on the bed with me. "Every damn thing about you is fucking perfect. And I'm the only man on the planet to have that." He kissed me, softly at first, then with more heat. "And that's unbelievably sexy. Makes me want you again and again, as many times a day as you'll let me."

The passion from his words turned me inside out, and the way his lips trailed down my jaw and my neck was so arousing I almost gasped. Even after all of this, Cam's kiss and touch were so thrilling it almost scared me.

His cock was hard against my stomach as he shifted and lay me back on the bed, crawling over me, sucking a nipple into his mouth, then switching to the other while his hands stroked everywhere lighting little fires up my sides.

"Again? Right now?" I asked with an excited squeak.

"Mhmm." His voice vibrated around my nipple.

The loud, throbbing reverberation of an army of Harley Davidson's returning earned a groan from him as he rolled away. "Rain check, I've got some shit to handle."

That was an understatement. The past few hours had been like something out of an action-packed movie. All adrenaline, sensation, and emotion. I watched him as he moved around the room, getting dressed in the same efficient motions as he did everything. He was perfectly at home here, in what I could only describe as a teenage boy's crash pad. Complete with posters of bikini-clad models draped all over shiny black and chrome motorcycles.

"You can hang out here until I get back or walk downstairs and make yourself a drink. If anyone is still here, it'll be Dylan."

I moved on the bed and struggled a bit to pull my panties and shorts back over the boots. "I can walk down with you." The idea of staying up there alone made me uneasy. I didn't want to be far from Cam, not here.

He waited at the door and lit a cigarette, shoving his lighter in his pocket before taking my hand in his free one and walking down the stairs with me. Krystal and the other groupies were long gone. A small handful of bikers were rolling in, somber. Every so often, one would break off from a group and head to the hallway with those two heavy oak doors.

Merc waited at the base of the stairs, lounging against the rail, unbothered and disinterested, like nothing important had just happened. He nodded once to me. "Dylan's in the kitchen, getting food together."

What he wasn't saying was if you don't want to stay out here with all of them . Men in leather vests lingered in the main room, one behind the bar passing out beers. They all watched me until Cam gave a hard glare.

He kissed the top of my head and used his hand on the back of my neck to steer me in that direction. "Get something to eat. This won't take long."

Walking away wasn't easy, but like Dylan had said, there were things we weren't meant to know. And while I didn't like it, I was starting to understand. Today had been eye opening in many ways.

I ignored the leering stares and pushed through the steel industrial style door and into the commercial sized kitchen. It smelled of some sort of roast and vegetables, savory, and onions. Dylan was leaned over a large pan, pulling the aluminum foil back and poking inside with a large fork.

She looked so calm and at ease, so normal that I felt bad about our argument. "Hey."

She glanced up and hesitated before responding with a cautious, "You okay?"

"Yeah." It wasn't a lie. "I feel like I should be more traumatized, but I'm not."

"Cam's not going to let anything happen to you." She hefted out another pan and then pulled down two plates. Her blind trust in him gave me the warm fuzzies.

"I'm sorry, Dylan. About last night and everything."

She waved it off. "Don't be. Seriously. I think we understand each other." She caught my gaze and held it in such a way I knew she meant what she said.

"Yeah, we do." I waited a minute, peaked under the tinfoil at the meat settled in thick gravy. "But you were right, you are a bitch."

Dylan's laugh was as rich as the gravy.

And this is what it felt like to make my first true friend. Someone other than Cam, who understood me.