Just when I think I can't take anymore, he pulls out suddenly, leaving me empty and aching.
"Turn around," he orders, his voice rough with need. "Get on your hands and knees. I want to take you from behind."
My legs are shaking so badly I'm not sure I can comply, but Tank doesn't let me fall. He helps me turn, steadying me as I place my hands against the cabin wall, my ass presented to him.
In a moment of daring I didn't know I possessed, I reach back and spread my ass cheeks for him.
"Put it in me," I beg, shocking myself with my own words.
I've never been this sexually liberated with anyone. Derek made me feel ashamed of my desires, criticized my responses, treated my body as a vessel for his pleasure rather than a source of shared joy. But with Tank, I feel free to ask for what I want, to take what I need.
He places his hands on my hips, positioning himself at my entrance before slamming into me with a force that drives the breath from my lungs. His thrusts are slower now but deeper, harder, each one sending shockwaves through my entire body.
He pulls me back against him as he thrusts forward, the impact jarring me to my core. I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood, desperate to stay quiet when all I want is to scream his name into the night.
Tank leans forward, his chest pressed against my back, his lips at my ear.
"I'm going to fill you up," he promises, his voice a dark growl that makes my pussy throb around him. "Going to pump you so full of my cum you'll feel me dripping out of you for days."
His dirty talk should embarrass me, but instead, it thrills me, pushing me toward another climax I didn't think possible. I reach up to squeeze one of my breasts, the slight pain helping me focus, helping me maintain some semblance of control.
But Tank is relentless, his powerful thighs slapping against the back of mine as he drives into me again and again. I glance over my shoulder and nearly come on the spot at the sight of him: head thrown back, eyes half-closed in concentration, mouth slightly open as he loses himself in pleasure. He's fucking magnificent.
My second orgasm builds faster than the first, crashing through me with unexpected force. My inner walls clamp down on his cock as pleasure radiates outward, leaving me trembling and gasping.
"Fuck, I can't hold back anymore," Tank groans, his rhythm faltering. "I'm going to come."
"Do it," I urge him. "Fill me up. I want to feel you come inside me."
With a low guttural sound that's almost a roar, he slams into me one final time, his cock pulsing as he empties himself deep inside me. I can feel each throb, each spurt of hot cum painting my insides, marking me as his in the most primal way possible.
When he finally pulls out, I feel his seed seeping from me, trickling down my thigh to drip onto the wooden boards of the porch. I should be embarrassed, but there's something deeply satisfying about the evidence of our joining, the physical proof of his desire for me.
Holy fuck. That was without a doubt the best sex I've ever had in my life.
My legs give out, and I start to collapse, but Tank catches me, turning me in his arms to hold me against his chest. I melt into his embrace, my naked body pressed against his, the cold night air suddenly noticeable again now that the heat of our passion is subsiding.
I look up at him, this dangerous man who's shown me more tenderness in one night than Derek did in years of marriage.
"You're saving me," I tell him, my voice still breathless.
He shakes his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You've got it backward. You're saving me. Making me realize I'm not the cold, violent bastard I thought I was."
"Maybe you just needed someone to rescue you from the darkness," I suggest, trailing my fingers along the strong line of his jaw.
He captures my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm that's somehow more intimate than everything we've just done. "Maybe we're rescuing each other."
Chapter 9 - Tank
"Maybe we're rescuing each other."
What the fuck is happening to me? Twenty-four hours ago, I was Tank—the cold Vice-President of the Savage Riders, the man who made grown men piss themselves with just a look. Now I'm standing on a porch at dawn, naked, holding a woman in my arms and spouting romantic clichés like I'm in some goddamn Hallmark movie.
And the most insane part? I mean every word.
I want to protect Amelia and Anna. I want them to stay in Blackwater Falls. I want to see where this thing between us might go. It's like a switch has been flipped inside me, rewiring circuits I didn't even know I had.
Is this what King felt when he met Luna? When he went from hardened MC president to a man willing to risk everything for a woman he'd known for all of a day? I'd given him endless shit about it, questioned his judgment, thought it was just infatuation clouding his thinking.
