Bitter Kind of Love: Prairie Devils MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (28 page)

I laughed, relieved to see her spirits were returning after we'd left hell behind. Stinger was quiet, sipping slow shots as we talked about the wedding. When I mentioned those wicked heels she'd picked up right before our world went to crap, she lost it, cracking up and crying on my shoulder.

“It's okay! We'll be in Reno before you know it. All this shit will pass...right, Stinger?” I looked at him hopefully.

His eyes were intense, real. No BS hidden in his dark whorls.

“Damned right, baby. This club's seen enough mayhem for a few more months. Come on, Saffron. Blaze's gonna tell you the same fucking thing I just did, and you're gonna believe him. We don't need this shit to keep the edge off. We need our friends and our lovers.”

His eyes shifted back to me. Reaching for my hand, he pulled mine close, his grip reassuring and insistent at the same time.

The door slammed and I jumped. Sting held on, refusing to let go, even as Blaze approached.

“Go get some fucking sleep. They won't let us see Moose 'til morning,” he said. “We'll debrief on this shit tomorrow. Roller's keeping guard with the family, just in case the Slingers had any rogues out there in sleeper mode.”

“Got it, Prez,” Stinger said. “We're gonna crash in the clubhouse tonight. Too tired to drive after all this warming up.”

He picked up the bottle of Jack and shook it. None of us had really had much at all, but Blaze got the point. He pushed past us and grabbed Saffron, easing her onto her feet, before reaching for the bottle and downing a good third of it.

“Come on, baby. You shouldn't be drinking this shit in your state, so I'm gonna have enough for both of us.”

“Asshole!” Saffron playfully slapped his chest.

Seeing them smiling like kids made me smile too. Next thing I knew, we were all alone, listening to the door to the bathroom slam shut. If anybody needed a long, hot shower after tonight, it was Blaze and his blushing bride.

Not to be outdone, Sting grabbed my other arm and pulled, lifting me totally onto his lap. A sticky, shaky heat spiked through me, pooling between my legs, reigniting the animalistic need I'd had on the back of his bike.

“I hate that anyone had to get hurt, but I learned some lessons tonight,” I whispered.

“Yeah? Enlighten me.”

I leaned closer to his ear, resisting the temptation to nibble on his lobe. “I learned that I'm not afraid of this anymore...the MC, the things you've got to do, what we've got. It's my life, and I'm not running.”

“You got no fucking clue how long I've been waiting to hear that, baby.” He moved in for a kiss, but I peeled away, holding him in suspense just a little while longer. He looked at me, surprised. “You gotta be kidding me. There's more?”

“Yup. Tonight's the first time I can safely say I've wanted to throw you down and fuck your brains out without anything getting in the way. No, more than want. I
need
it, Lucas.”

I could practically feel the current running through him when I hissed his real name. This time, there was no wriggling out of his grasp – not like I would've wanted to anyway. He threw me over his shoulder and started down the hall, turning toward the infirmary near the bar.

“Gotta clean up first, baby. Fucking love getting down and dirty, but screwing with other dudes' blood drying all over me is something else.”

Wise words. I'd forgotten about the streaks all over him, death paint left by friends and enemies alike. We headed into the infirmary and locked the door behind us. He sat down next to the big sink Em used for medical crap. I ran the faucet for him, trying not to go crazy as he peeled off his clothes, one piece at a time.

The blood hadn't penetrated his skin as badly as I thought. It was mostly his arms, his neck, and little flecks tangled in his dark brown hair. I ran my fingers through it, reaching for a sponge.

Sting groaned as I soaked it in warm water and blotted around his neck. Then I made the mistake of looking down at the huge erection straining in his jeans, unmistakable proof his blood was throttled with the same need coursing through me.

Let's get this over with,
I thought, biting my bottom lips.
Not that I wouldn't love to stand here and worship these muscles all day...

Understatement of the decade.

Jesus, he was hot. I worked the wet sponge in between the tight grooves of his inked up muscles, cleansing the sweat and blood dotting his skin, putting the killer to bed and reawakening a different beast. I wasn't sure whether my strokes were loving or shaking with pure lust.

He loved them either way, gently growling and rolling his head back. When I washed beneath his arms, he couldn't keep his hands off me, snarling as he cupped my ass and pulled me forward.

His mouth went up underneath my shirt, kissing at my belly. I laughed, trying to bat him away without melting into a puddle at his feet. His tongue raced up high, pushing my shirt up, shoving my bra aside and going for my breasts.

Holy shit! This is really it!

You know you've found the man you're meant to be with forever when he makes you feel like this after feeling death breathing down your neck.

Right now, there was something else pouring pure hot breath on my skin. This big, beautiful, unstoppable badass named Stinger. Death was no match, and neither was sorrow. He choked the life out of both those evil spirits with his kiss, his touch, his –

Shit!

His teeth found my nipple and sucked, lashing it with his tongue again and again. I tottered backward toward the stainless steel table, falling back when he rose.

Bath time was over. Thank God.

He fisted my hair and moved up for a kiss, smoothing his tongue on mine, straight up mouth-to-mouth fucking. I barely realized when he broke away, unable to concentrate on anything except the swollen ache between my thighs.

“It's my turn,” he growled, giving the sponge in one hand a rough squeeze. “Strip for me, baby. You're gonna have to let me run this shit over every inch of your sweet skin before you get my tongue, my dick...”

He flipped me over, rubbing my ass with his hips, making me feel how hard he was.
Holy, holy shit.

What little shyness I had left went up in a fury, raw need lighting up every single nerve. I stripped fast, loving how he looked at me, nothing but two predatory eyes devouring me one atom at a time.

My jeans fell, and then my panties, the last thing to go. Not fast enough for him. Sting reached around to the gusset and yanked it, ripping soaked cloth down my legs, growling and brushing my tender neck with his stubble.

Oh. Shit.

I really was his. Owned. And really, truly happy to be possessed.

My nipples hardened and everything beneath my waist turned into a hot, wet morass, aligning to the rhythm he sent into my skin with every touch.

His erection rocked against my ass again. Another growl, and his fingers circled my thigh, moving swiftly between my legs. He found my clit and started to make the fierce, hypnotic strokes that never left me any choice but total surrender.

“You're gonna come for me, baby. Right here. Right now. Real fucking hard.” His teeth nicked my ear. “Then I'm gonna shove this dick inside you and find out how goddamned incredible you feel with nothing but your pussy wrapped around me. No condom this time. You've been taking that shit Em gave you, right?”

I nodded, trying not to draw blood out of my lip. He tweaked my nipple with his free hand, quickening the strokes with his fingers.

“Good girl. Keep it up too. Now that you're my old lady, I'm never using a fucking condom again. I wanna feel you deep, Alice, every beautiful inch. We're fucking all the time, skin-to-skin, and we're not stopping 'til your pussy cries for my load every damned day.”

God. Damn!

The tense strokes coupled with his rough words were officially too fucking much. My knees buckled and I held the edge of the table tight, hardly realizing what was happening as he sank to his knees, running his deliciously scratchy face across the backs of my thighs.

Sting buried his face in my cunt from behind. Sucking, tonguing, opening me with his fingers, his teeth close behind them. He wouldn't quit until my whole body was shaking, bobbing against the table. He pinned me down, holding my thighs open while his mouth did all the work, covering my clit in the steady wet flap of his tongue.

“Do it, Sting,” I moaned. “Make me fucking come. I wanna be your old lady and please you better than any of those stupid sluts ever –“

Oh. Fuck.

Jealousy only amped up the raging climax racing through my system.

Every muscle in my body tightened up and I couldn't gasp another word. He wanted me to come?

Fine. I'd go off hot, bright, and screaming, the best grand finale he'd ever seen.

There was no faking it. It came natural, my body losing itself in sharp bliss. All I could do was scream as he rammed his face deeper, lapping at my folds, slapping my clit with ferocious licks again and again and again.

Orgasm hit, explosive as all hell, volcanic as all the emotions he'd throttled through my body. It started in a red hot flush on my cheeks, and then everything in my belly exploded, resonating outward in a sultry rhythm that echoed my old man's power, his love, his passion.

I came.

Stinger growled with satisfaction, never letting up. His tongue kept working me deep, making me shudder on his face that much harder. My fingers balled white knuckled fists on the sleek cool table and I screamed, all I could do to handle the ecstasy ripping through me.

The terror and love of the past twenty-four hours melted in a blurry, breathless sacrifice to this man I'd chosen, the only one with the presence and power like the strongmen who lived in my head.

His grip on my legs tightened as I started to collapse. He flipped me around, helping me onto the table to rest. I wrinkled my nose, knowing I'd have to spray this place down or at least leave Em a note.

The infirmary definitely wasn't sterile anymore.

Stinger pushed between my legs, pulling me up, stamping more furious kisses on my lips, my throat, my breasts. I tasted faint traces of my own wetness on his mouth, melded with his musk, his taste, everything that was gloriously Stinger and Lucas Spears.

“Fuck this shit,” he growled, breaking away. “I'm not sliding into your bare pussy for the first time in a damned sick bay. Come on. Let's go to my old room.”

He let go and walked to the door, flinging it open. It was just a short distance down the hall, but I didn't want anyone else passing by and spotting me naked. And he was pretty close to nude himself with that crazy hard-on pulling at his jeans – not that the brothers cared who heard or saw them fucking.

“Hang on,” I said. “Just let me grab my –“

Sting rushed over and threw me across his shoulder. He carried me off before I could say another word, swinging me over his hard body. I started laughing, beating at his back, shocked to see the caveman come out. He grinned, slowing his steps, lingering next to the bedroom door way longer than we should've.

“Dick!” I said, giving him another slap. Didn't carry much weight when I was giggling like a stupid sorority girl.

“Nobody's gonna get more than a lucky eye full, baby. You're mine now. You always were. Anybody who wants to come closer's gonna have to kill me first.”

He gave the knob a twist and we were back in the spartan little room, the first place I'd suffered with him while he held me close, warming away the icy sorrow I'd absorbed for twenty years.

I stopped play fighting. He spun me around and laid me down on the small bed, undoing his belt as he took his place between my legs. His eyes melted into mine.

All fire. All wild. All loving.

Definitely ready to fuck harder than we'd ever done it before.

My lips trembled once. He was on me with another animal kiss, unable to resist, burying me in tongue dancing goodness while I heard his belt rustling off.

Sting pulled back, showing off his painted chest, leaning to kick away his jeans. His boxers came next, and then he was right up against my wetness, all heat and masculine fury throbbing against my pussy.

“You ready to fuck like my old lady, baby?”

Sweet Jesus.
I pursed my lips, wrapping my legs around his hard ass, giving him a little jerk with my ankles.

That did it. He rolled his hips back and then pushed into me. Just when I didn't think sex with this whirlwind could be any better, I realized how wrong I was.

Without the condom, I could feel...everything.

Every twitching inch, every spark in his muscles. Pleasure I barely imagined raced up my spine as he slid up to my womb, thumping his balls on my ass. I gushed, trying to hold back.

Just a few minutes of fucking was all it took before I let go and surrendered to the awesome waves exploding beneath my waist.

“Ah, baby. Fucking shit. You're so damned wet, so hot...” His temperature must've went up five degrees too as he pressed his lips to mine and drove his tongue deep. “Christ. I've never wanted to fill a pussy up so bad in my life.”

His hips rocked, slowly at first, then quickly picking up speed. He threw more weight into his thrusts. I was used to his power by now, loving it every time he shook my whole body, but I wasn't used to feeling him so
deep.

My hands and feet locked on tight, riding the storm between my legs. It wasn't long before my hips gyrated against his, pulling him deeper still, melding his thrusts to my pussy.

Stinger growled, nipping at my neck, sucking so hard I knew I'd have a blemish there tomorrow. And I wanted one too.

It was an honor to be marked, branded. Before I took his tattoo and wore his patch, I needed to be claimed with his teeth, his stubble, the wildfire he kindled inside me.

“Give it!” I whined, pushing my neck to his mouth, throwing my hips into his harder. “Bite me when I come. Make me remember how hard we fucked tonight, Lucas.”

I reached up and scratched at his head. His growl vibrated through my breasts. The feel of his teeth pulling at my skin was the last thing I needed to fly off the edge.