Chapter eight
Keely
I woke in the early morning light to the heavy weight of Tarzan’s muscular arm draped over my middle. The solid warmth of his chest pressed against my back and his half-hard cock dug into my thigh. It felt like heaven to be wrapped up in my sheets with him, wonderfully bare, reveling in that skin-to-skin contact I wanted so badly.
Wiggling deeper into his embrace, I smiled to myself as memories of the previous night replayed in my mind.
Then I remembered our interrupted date, the news about Teddy, and meeting Tarzan’s club. My smile faltered. I trailed my fingers over his forearm, following the ink that swirled up over his bicep.
It could have been him, I thought. Tarzan could have been the one who was shot last night instead of his brother.
Rolling over in Tarzan’s embrace, I wrapped my fingers lightly around his cock, circling my thumb in a teasing rhythm over the crown. A growl rumbled deep in his chest and his eyes twitched, but he didn’t open them yet.
I buried my face in his neck, nosing at his jawline, nibbling on his earlobe. God, he smelledsodamn good.Ducking under the covers, I nestled between his thighs, dragging my tongue along a fat, pulsing vein that lined the length of his cock.
“Fuck,” came Tarzan’s muffled rasp.
I grinned, thrilled at eliciting a reaction from him. His cock twitched in my grip, surging thick and ramrod hard. My mouth watered at the sight. A sweet, familiar ache of need throbbed to life between my thighs again.
Last night, I hadn’t fully appreciated the sheer girth and weight of him. I certainlyfeltit when he was inside me, stretching me open to the limit of what I could take. Even though I wasn’t a virgin, it was my first time with someone who could make me feel that full.
But now, I had the opportunity to slow things down. To study him. Taking note of the way his breath hitched with every sweep of my tongue. Or when I found that sensitive little spot beneath the head of his cock—his hips thrust forward, his obliques flexed in sharp relief, and a sinfully deep growl thundered in his throat.
Tarzan swept the covers aside. I grinned up at him, pulling away from his cock with a wetpop.
“Good morning, big guy,” I chirped.
He hummed with a gravel-rough noise of amusement. Cupping his hand under my chin, he swept this thumb across my lower lip.
“I fucking love it when you call me that,” I said.
His cock pulsed even harder in my grip, leaking pre-cum.
“Oh, I can tell.”
In the next instant, I found myself on my back with Tarzan above me, slotting his hips between my thighs. He stroked and teased gently at my pussy with two fingers, testing.
“Are you sore?” he asked. “From last night?”
“In a good way. Definitely ready for round two.”
I twisted my hand up into Tarzan’s hair. It was wild and loose, tousled, making him look even more beastly than ever before. There was something so addictive about watching this burly biker get aroused because of me, stoking his insatiable appetite like a wildfire with every touch.
When Tarzan curled two fingers inside me with a silky glide, he pressed his thumb against my clit at the same time in a steady rhythm. A blissful sigh escaped my lips.
And I yanked just a little too hard on Tarzan’s hair, unintentionally.
A strangled moan tore from his throat, guttural and animalistic.
For a split second, I was stunned. Then my eyes lit up.
Tarzan sighed with defeat. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Pull my hair and I sound like a whore.”
I giggled with delight at my discovery. What made it even better was his obvious awareness that I would use this to my advantage at every chance I could get.
“Look,” he said with a huff. “I can explain.”
“Really, Tarzan, no explanation needed. The message was received loud and clear already. That was the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard in my life.”
