The space near the jukebox has turned into a loose little cluster of bodies, maybe ten couples swaying and grinding to the heavy beat of the music, boots scuffing the floor, laughter floating in low bursts between verses. No real dance floor. Just people pressed together, moving however the song pulls them.
Rev steps in close automatically, one hand settling at my waist, the other sliding to the small of my back like he’s been doing this with me forever. I fit into him without thinking, chest to chest, hips lined up, my hands finding his shoulders and then the back of his neck. His warmth sinks into me fast, steady and grounding, the solid weight of him anchoring me in the moment.
We sway together, slow and easy, bodies moving in time with the music and each other. No rush. No show. Just closeness. His chin dips slightly toward my hair, breath brushing the top of my head, and I close my eyes for half a second because it feels too good to keep staring at him without losing my nerve.
We don’t talk. We don’t need to. The world narrows down to the rhythm under our feet, the press of his hand at my back, the way his body moves with mine like he’s tracking every small shift and sway. My cheek brushes his chest when I lean in a little closer, and the steady rise and fall of his breathing settles something deep in me that’s been tight for longer than I realized.
I tilt my head up just enough to catch his eyes. They’re dark and focused. The solid heat of him against my stomach sends a lowripple through me, waking something reckless and aching. I’m tired of being the perfect big sister and the reliable real estate agent. Tired of always being the one in charge. I want someone else to take the lead. To guide me through this, to hold the reins for once. And I want it to be Rev. No. I want it to be Javier. I need the man, not the biker.
I suck my bottom lip into my mouth and bite down as I shift closer, impossibly closer, my chest pressing into his. He pulls in a sharp breath, and when I look up again his eyes are smoldering, ready to combust. His hands flex on my hips, dragging our centers together, and then his mouth claims mine. A sound slips out of me before I can stop it, and he takes it as an invitation, his tongue brushing against mine. The kiss is all hunger and collision, heat sparking straight through my bloodstream. This isn’t sweet. This isn’t careful. This is real. And it’s going to fucking burn.
I kiss him back just as fiercely, needing his touch like oxygen. He pulls away abruptly, his hands threading into my hair, anchoring me there. “What are you doing, Princess?” he pants against the side of my head, breath hot and unsteady.
“You know.” My voice comes out rough, honest in a way that scares me a little.
He pulls back enough to search my face, dark eyes scanning mine like he’s looking for the truth underneath the want. “Are you sure?”
I give a small nod. It feels like stepping off a ledge and trusting the fall. That’s all it takes. He grabs my hand and pulls me through the bar, tossing a couple of twenties onto the table without breaking stride. The door barely closes behind us before he’s got me pressed against the brick wall outside, onehand cradling the back of my head, the other tipping my chin up as his mouth crashes into mine again. The kiss is deep and claiming, all heat and urgency and barely contained restraint. My pulse detonates under my skin. God, I want him to own this moment. To take control. To take every decision out of my hands and carry me somewhere I don’t have to be strong anymore.
His hard cock presses against me and I suddenly can’t wait. Recklessly, I slide my hand down his stomach before finding the button of his jeans.
“Fuck, Brooke,” he gasps, the sound rough and wrecked like it’s dragged straight out of his chest.
I pop the button loose and tug the zipper down, my pulse skidding when I slide my hand inside and close my fingers around him. He’s already thick and unyielding, heavy in my palm, and then I feel it. Smooth metal beneath my fingertips. I suck in a sharp breath, my nerves lighting up as I explore further.
“What the hell…” I murmur, half stunned, half thrilled. A row of small, cool beads runs along the underside of him, spaced evenly beneath the skin, each one creating a subtle ridge that my fingers can’t stop tracing. A Jacob’s ladder. Heat coils low in my belly, curiosity tangling with reckless want. And then my thumb brushes the head of him and catches on another piece of cool metal, a small ring nestled there that makes my breath hitch all over again. A Prince Albert. The realization sends another sharp shiver through me, my grip tightening without meaning to as his body reacts instantly, a rough sound tearing from his throat.
I glance up at him, expecting a smug, knowing grin. Instead, the look staring back at me nearly steals my breath. His jaw is tight,eyes dark and burning, hunger and restraint warring in equal measure. There’s nothing playful about it. It’s raw. Focused. Like I’ve just flipped some dangerous internal switch.
I tighten my hand around him, trying to wrap my fingers all the way around his thick length, but I can’t quite make it. My fingertips don’t even touch. The awareness of just how much of him there is makes my stomach flip, a helpless little thrill curling through me as my thumb brushes one of the smooth metal beads again and his breath stutters like I’ve undone him with nothing but my hand.
I glide my hand up and down his shaft as he kisses down my neck, mouth lingering, teeth scraping just enough to make my skin prickle. His palm closes around my breast, rough and demanding, like he’s claiming territory, and his hips start rolling into my hand, slow and deliberate, finding a rhythm that makes my knees feel weak.
His other hand slides between my thighs, brushing against my wet, needy pussy, making my breath hitch, close enough to make my body beg even before my mouth can. I moan, helpless and needy, every nerve ending screaming for more, for everything.
“Christ,” he growls against my ear, voice dark and wrecked. “You feel that? You’re already coming undone for me.”
My grip tightens without thinking, and his breath punches out of him in a broken sound, the vibration of it rippling straight through my palm.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, popping the button of my jeans and sliding his hand in, under my panties, warm skin against overheated skin. His thumb finds my throbbing clit and teasesjust enough to make my hips jerk, a helpless little gasp catching in my throat. “So damn desperate. All hot and needy in my hands like you’ve been waiting for this.”
My head tips back, pulse skidding wild in my ears, another shaky moan slipping loose before I can stop it. He lets out a low, wicked laugh, breath brushing my neck, the sound curling straight into my spine and lighting every nerve. “Yeah,” he continues softly, dangerous and intimate all at once, his voice sinking under my skin. “Keep touching me like that, baby. I wanna feel you lose control.”
I’m shaking with need, thighs tight, every nerve humming, wanting him to push me over the edge and give me the one thing I trust only him to give me. My voice comes out breathless and wrecked.
“Javi, please… please make me come.”
His mouth curves close to my ear, heat and promise in every word, his voice dropping into something possessive and molten. “That’s right. I’m your Javi. Only yours, Princess.”
His thumb works slow, deliberate circles over my clit, not rushing, not giving me enough, while two fingers skim through my slick folds like a warning instead of a touch. My hips jerk helplessly into his hand, chasing it, begging without words. I don’t want control. I don’t want to decide anything. I just want him to take it from me, to tell my body what to do and make it obey.
My grip tightens around his cock, hot and heavy in my hand, damp at the tip. I stroke him instinctively, sliding my palm along the thick length, feeling the pulse of him, the solid weight, the warm metal brushing my skin. The need coils low and sharpin my belly, wild and impatient, my mind already unraveling at the thought of how he’d feel inside me, how he’d fill me, move me, claim every shaky breath I have left.
I’m trembling now, caught between wanting more and wanting to be made to wait, my body already tipping into that dangerous, delicious place where all I can think about is him being in charge and me letting go.
“This is what’s going to happen,” he says, voice dropping low, slow, deliberate like he’s already got me cornered. “You’re going to come for me when I tell you to. Then I’m putting you on the back of my bike and taking you back to my bed.”
My breath stutters. My pulse is everywhere. “What about you?”
