Biker Chick Campout (Rebel Wayfarers MC) (5 page)

“Yeah, nice is an understatement. Being
around the guys made me realize that the club, being a member, was
something I wanted. More than anything, I wanted it. Slate
forced
me to wait until I was legal to
officially prospect in, but now I’m nearly at the nine-month mark,
still going strong.” In the darkness, she saw his silhouette move
and then caught a glint from his teeth as he smiled.

“So you’re twenty-one?” Mela was surprised
at her disappointment at the revelation. She’d thought he was
older. He both looked and acted more mature than most of the boys
her own age.

“Twenty-two now,” Hurley told her, that
glint of smile shining at her again. “My birthday was
yesterday.”

“Seriously?” She shifted to sit
upright
and he moved with her, reaching out to place his
palm on her back, supporting her confidently. “Your birthday was
yesterday? That deserves some cake or something. Some kind of
celebration.” Heat spread through her from his touch, and
impulsively s
he placed her hand on his forearm and
leaned forward, intending to brush her lips across his
cheek.

“
Happy birth—
”
she began, interrupted when he turned his head and
pressed his lips to hers.
Her eyes dipped closed of their
own volition, and her small gasp of surprise must have seemed an
invitation because his mouth opened, velvet tongue boldly trailing
across her bottom lip. The kiss ended slowly, Hurley pressing his
lips to hers twice, gently working her mouth before sliding his
cheek next to hers.
Bad idea
, she thought.
Very bad
idea. Terrible idea.
Breathlessly
she finished, “—day.”

She felt the supporting arm slide further
around her back as his other hand came up, sweeping the hair off
her neck so he could dust kisses up the column of her throat.
“Mmmm.” The noise he made in the back of his throat was
low
and sexy, and she couldn’t stop the shiver that
rolled through her again.
“Thank you,” he murmured,
kissing the hinge of her jaw
—
“for the”
—
moving back to nip her earlobe
—
“birthday”
—
lips back to her jaw, trailing
along it as he kissed up to her mouth
—
“wishes.”

The heat from his hands traveled up and down
her arms, tingles of sensation trailing the path of his palms where
they moved over her skin. Wanting more, she arched her
neck,
and he accepted the silent invitation, pressing
hard,
open-mouthed
kisses along her jaw and
back up to her mouth.
This time,
when his
tongue teased
along
her lips, she opened to
him, feeling that same shiver work its way up her spine as he swept
into her mouth, possessing her in a way that made her wet between
her legs.
Dios
. Desire curling in her belly, inner muscles
clenching down on emptiness. Lips working, caressing her mouth, he
tangled their tongues
together,
and she felt
his hands shifting her closer as the kiss deepened, the taste of
him flooding her senses.

Her hands were winding helplessly, one
twisted in his shirt, trying to pull him closer, and the other
twined in his hair, threading through and cupping the back of his
head.
Want him
. Pulling him against her body demandingly,
desperate for his touch.
Need this
. Plucking at the piece of
leather tying his hair back, she released
it,
and his dark blond locks fell around them, creating a silky curtain
that swayed with each movement.

The muscles of her stomach jolted and
lurched with surprise as one of his hands slipped underneath her
shirt, backs of his knuckles brushing along her ribs in a
barely-there touch. He broke the kiss and pressed his lips to the
side of her head, his breathing as ragged as hers when he said,
“Mela, don’t tell me to stop, please
God
.” His hand rose
along her ribs, thumb stroking the side of her breast and then
across her already hard nipple, dragging roughly against the fabric
of her bra. “Want you,” he murmured, palming her breast and
plumping
it, slipping his fingers inside to
tease her bare skin.

“Yes,” she
breathed,
and he made an eager noise in response. Easing her back onto the
mattress, he propped himself over her on an arm as he reached down,
lifting and bringing her legs into the van. With one
hand,
he grasped the handle, and she watched the wedge of
light from the fire grow smaller, narrowing and then finally
winking out of existence as the door closed. Eyes stretched wide,
adjusting to the darkness, she found just enough light filtered in
through the windows to identify his silhouette where he knelt
between her feet. From the tilt of his head, she thought he was
looking down at her, so when she felt his hands on her
ankles,
she didn’t jump.

Wordlessly he tugged her boots from her
feet, chill night air stealing across her skin as he slipped her
socks off and tucked them into each boot, setting the paired
footwear aside. In the same fashion, he slowly, methodically
undressed her. His focus on her was unsettling, but he seemed
totally in control. Stretching his hands out, his fingers found and
worked the fastening at the waistband of her jeans. Bending her
knees, palms sliding in a firm motion down her hips, he removed
them, taking her panties at the same time. She watched as he
carefully laid her folded clothing next to her boots.

In silence he reached out to grab one of her
hands and tugged, pulling her into a sitting position. Hands
sliding around and under her shirt, he worked the fastener on her
bra, and then took her shirt and bra off, discarding them next to
the growing pile of clothes.

Totally nude, as she sat in front of him,
waiting, she felt spotlighted in the limited light shining through
the windows, her eagerness waning while the moments ticked past
without him touching her. Nervously, she swallowed hard, then
lifted and crossed her arms, hiding her stiffening nipples.
Too
much, I can’t—

Mela was startled when Hurley said, voice
low
and forceful, “Don’t cover yourself. Let
me look at you.” The command was clear,
certainty
infusing his tone. Dropping her arms, she still
felt exposed and had to fight the urge to bring her knees up to her
chest, but she wanted him so badly.
Dios
. Aroused, she was
hesitant to do anything that would cause him to stop. In the end,
desire won out over
inhibition,
and she sat in
silence, legs curled in front of her, arms at her sides. “Fucking
gorgeous
,” he said in that same greedy, possessive tone. He
took a deep breath, and she found her chest rising in an echo of
the movement. “Blinding me, you’re so beautiful.”

Moving slowly, he took off his cut, folding
it carefully, each motion showing a deep respect for his club. Then
with quick movements, he tossed his own clothing aside with far
less care than he’d shown hers.

Lifting one hand, he swept his hair back
from
his face, releasing it as he tilted his
head and then reached out to her, each of these actions seeming to
take forever until the moment he finally touched her. With a firm
grip, he cupped each foot, tugging her legs open, and pulling her
down the mattress and towards him.

“Lie down, Mela,” he
said
softly
, running his hands up the inside of her legs and back
down, his thumb stroking along the arch of each foot. “Lay back;
let me make you feel good.” Gentle caresses, each one stealing her
breath. “Let me make it
good
for you,
honey.”

His reverent tone and the constant touches,
soothing heat from his hands
across
her skin
gave her the courage to do as he asked. His hands stroked higher
across her ankles, then the inside of her knees, sweeping down,
then up again, farther, then—
frustratingly
—back down. He
moved and she was devastated, losing all contact with his hands. It
was only a moment and then she cried out, unable to still the
tremble that swept through her when his thumbs, palms, and
fingertips again trailed up and down her skin. Delicious torture,
because while she longed for each caress, she couldn’t predict the
path his hands would take, her keen anticipation overwhelming,
keeping her on edge.

Rising on his knees, he bent
over and then his mouth was on her, tracing a heated path up one
inner thigh. His breath ghosting across her skin merely a prelude,
leaving her gasping at the first bold swipe of his tongue across
her intimate lips.
With a moan, she lifted her
hips, movement compelled by the sensation. Hurley chuckled,
deliberate fingers leisurely gliding up and down the folds between
her legs. Mela felt the smooth slide, the touch of his
work-roughened hands glancing soft as spun silk through the
evidence of her desire.

“God, honey,” he muttered, lips brushing
across the skin of her inner thigh as he spoke. “You’re fucking
drenched for me.” She was. Had been since she opened the van door
to feast her eyes on his beauty. With a shift in position, he
lapped at her, the
tip
of his tongue teasing
her clit out of its hood as he sucked that bundle of nerves into
his mouth. Heat enveloped her, skin sensitized from each touch
leaping at the sensations he rained upon her.

“Mmmm.” He made that noise in the back of
his throat
again,
and she shivered. “Fucking
drenched. Love it, love the way you taste.” His hands were touching
and stroking, then she felt one finger slide inside her, heard the
whine escape her lips at the sensation of being filled, but not
full.
Need more
.

Moving slowly, steadily, he
pushed deep, and his other fingers spread across her ass, gripping
tightly as he thrust in, grinding hard. Then, he stroked out just
as slowly, plunging back inside with two fingers, the more generous
width stretching her.
God,
yes
.

It sounded like a vow when he
said, “Gonna make you feel good.”
One arm
braced across her hips, holding her in place, he fell into a
rhythm, his hand moving, fingers thrusting, hot mouth sucking. He
laughed when she lost her grip on the sheet, demandingly threading
one hand through his hair, and the vibration against her sex had
her drawing her knees up and out, voluntarily opening for
him.
Promise
fulfilled
.

“God,” he muttered, pressing his mouth
against her, the movement and speed of his tongue and fingers
increasing as he flicked and licked— “so good” —drilling inside and
then sucking hard, each nuance of movement forcing her towards what
felt like a dangerous precipice.
“Fucking gorgeous.”
His words were nearly inaudible over the sounds of him going down
on her, the noises her body made as it accepted every touch, and
she realized she was making constant incoherent entreaties of
desire and arousal.
His fingers slid in and out fast,
reaching inside, pumping, seeking as she clenched around him in
pulses, waves of pleasure rolling closer. “Come for me, baby. Come
on,” he coaxed, lapping at her lips, fingers driving deep. “Let me
hear you.”

“Nearly,” she breathed, trying to not
fist
her hand in his hair. “So good.”
Capturing her top lip in her teeth, she closed her eyes, focused on
the sensation gathering low in her belly, chasing it, tightening
around his fingers, her hand falling away to grasp the sheet.

“So good,” she called again, encouraging him
and suddenly she was filled, what had to be three fingers curving
up inside her as he ground the heel of his palm into her clit.
Full, so full, and that pressure edged the line of pleasure and
pain, ripping her free from the moorings holding her back, letting
her soar. She cried out when his teeth grazed her, nipping at the
inside of her thigh, his weight and
grip
keeping her still as she climbed higher, thrown upwards to where
the air was thin. Breath suspended, cocooned in the darkness behind
her closed lids, ears deaf to anything except the rapid pounding of
her heart.

“Jesus, honey,” she heard him say from very
nearby and realized his mouth was beside her head. Without her
noticing, somehow in the past few moments he had moved
up
her body and was stretched over her. “You’re fucking
stunning.”

Need. I need..
.

The feeling was overwhelming.

Please
.

Never before had
Mela
felt so connected to a lover. Sex was about feeling
good in
the moment. Not this…
need
.

Hurley’s
hand bumped
her belly, working between them and she lifted her hips, seeking.
Then he was
there
, thrusting his cock deep with one long
glide and holding, rotating his hips, grinding into her clit while
his breath came fast and hard in her ear. Electric shocks rattled
through her, centering between her legs as she stretched to
accommodate him.

“Come again, honey, come on.” He gritted the
words out, forehead to an arm shoved in the mattress. “One more.”
Ass rolling, his thick cock plunging deeper, hips
shifting side-to-side, then his hand was between them. “Come
again.” His thumb unerringly found her clit and pressed hard as his
cock withdrew and then drove inside, hard and deep, slamming in and
holding there as she rolled over that edge again. She lifted up to
meet his movements, offering him everything, her head pushing
backwards.
The strain in his tone was gratifying when he
grunted, “Fuck yeah, gorgeous, fuck me back.”