“I-I’m going to come … Ax.”
“Sean,” he says, commanding. “My name is Sean.”
My eyes flutter open and connect with his in the dim light. I can see how much he wants his name on my lips, but I’m not ready to give him that.
Instead, I simply cry out as pleasure washes over me.
“Fuck! Please …” I beg for him as I come, looking into his eyes with his name on the tip of my tongue. Sean’s jaw sets as he watches me, as if he’s fighting both anger and lust.
He groans. “Look at you, dripping down my hand. You won’t say my name, but I promise youwillremember who made you come for the rest of the night,” he murmurs as static lines my vision, my breathing shallow. I moan into his chest, biting into my bottom lip, and he holds me up as I let the rush of him race through my blood—the rush of this…freedom. My whimpers are the only sound in the cold, dark room.
I’m still so sensitive when Sean pushes my panties fully aside and firmly slides his first two fingers through my soaking slit, and my head falls back as he brings my arousal to his lips. He sucks his fingers clean, pulling them slowly from his mouth, and I watch with fascination as his eyes close while he savors the taste of me. He licks his lips, and when his eyes open, I can see even in the dark that they’re hooded and stormy.
“Fuck me,” he murmurs.
I try to catch my breath as I watch him. I’ve never seen a man be so brazen, so unashamed before.
“Give me your name,” he commands.
“L-Layla,” I whisper, my body shivering now that the adrenaline is wearing off. It’s only thirty-five degrees in this fucking cooler.
An odd look I just can’t place takes over his face as his jaw falls slack before he whispers, “Layla.” Then his eyes close as he draws me close and breathes me in deeply before opening them. “Such a pretty mess you made for me. So fucking sweet,” he rasps before dropping his lips to mine. He doesn’t fully kiss me, but I taste myself mixed with him as he pulls my bottom lip into his mouth, sucking until I feel blood rush to the surface. Even though I shouldn’t want this stranger, the moment he backs away, my body begs as I drop my hands—and I fight the loss of him.
I try to force some semblance of control into this situation. I squirm away from him, then grip his arms and push him with all my strength into the cooler wall I was just pinned against. He lets me, a shocked look taking over his face, and I bring my lips up to his in frustration.
“You’ve made me late,Ax,” I whisper accusingly, desperately trying not to kiss him. It isn’t without effort, and that just pisses me off all over again, yet still I grip his cut tight. “Are you about done? I need the ladies’ room before I head back to myjob,” I mutter.Because I’m sure my lipstick is all over my fucking face.
His eyes meet mine and shock gives way to a glorious yet hauntingly beautiful smile that takes over his whole face, before he tugs me closer one more time.
“Layla…” He draws my name out again as he bends down, and just the sound of it on his lips settles something deep in the marrow of my bones. I use all my inner strength to push back from him, giving him one more look before grabbing the limes and opening the heavy cooler door, leaving him behind. I hear that deep chuckle as I walk away and wonder if that actually just happened or if I’ve just hallucinated from hypothermia.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sean
Well this just got really fucking interesting.
I’m rarely shaken or intrigued. I may not be a good man, but one thing I am is an honest man. So I’ll admit that hearing my little dove’s name was Layla, coupled with her pushing me into the cooler wall after she came all over me, shook me to my very core and definitely intrigued the fuck out of me. She has no idea how close I was to hiking up her skirt and claiming her like a fucking animal right then and there. Her fire is an invitation that I won’t ignore, only my resolve managed to stop me. Iwillfuck her. But the first time I sink into that tight, needy cunt I want her to be able to unleash the wild side that I’m now positive is living within her, and she can’t do that in the back of a restaurant full of people.
Layla.
The name on loop that pulled me through my worst moments. The lyrics I hear every single time I remember lying in the dust, looking up at the lone laughing dove on top of our mutilated Humvee. My fucking saving grace. I don’t question why her existence lines up with my past. I don’t believe in fate,destiny or whatever you want to call it, because fate isn’t quantifiable. But I do believe in the chemical and physical connection between two souls and mine is most certainly connected to hers.
Of that, I’m positive.
I watch her now as the bar begins to empty out a little. My men left but I’ve stayed the extra hour until close, slowly sipping my bourbon right at the end of her bar.
When I came back from the cooler five minutes after her, she glanced up at me, perfectly put together and dismissive. Perfectly poised, aside from the flush of her cheeks and the glassy look in her eyes that gave away that she had just come all over my fingers with that heated look in her eyes and those moans on her pouty lips. Something about this woman hating that she wants me just fucking makes my dick hard.
The combination feels like my undoing, but I want more of it. I want all ofher. I don’t know where she comes from, who her family is, what she likes, what she hates, what drives her or what turns her on, aside from fear because that’s already apparent. But Iwillfind out. I have no choice but to now. She’s a knot I need to untie, a mystery I feel the need to solve. Covered in ink with a penchant for danger. Cocky and standoffish, yet trembling with want. A caged little rebel without her cause, because she simply hasn’t discovered what her cause is yet.
I breathe deep with satisfaction as this challenge presents itself. I never doubt my gut, and in this case I already know I’m right. My little dove is about to find out thatIam her cause.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Layla
What was I thinking? What came over me? How did one touch turn me into a begging slut for the big bad biker? I work on autopilot for the last hour of the night, trying to wrap my head around why Sean is still here, sitting at the other end of the bar watching me. He isn’t drinking quickly; he’s been sipping one bourbon and a water. But he’s making me feel completely on edge in a million different ways.
