He fills me, gripping my hips hard as he plunges inside of me with a hard stroke that makes me see stars. He barely gives me time to brace myself, my fingers kneading the blanket before he pulls out and hammers back home again, seating himself so deep inside of me that his balls slap against my cheeks.
“You like this? Long and slow, just like this?”
Steel pulls out, his strokes echoing his words, and slides back inside of me, filling me completely. He continues those long, hot strokes, and through the fog of crazed pleasure, I remember his command to touch myself. I slowly bring my handbetween my legs, my fingers applying just the slightest pressure to my clit. The sensations are so much sharper, harder, deeper, every jolt of pleasure tearing me into what feels like a thousand tiny pieces.
“God…” Steel groans behind me. “You have the most perfect ass. So fucking tight and hot, clamping around my cock like a fucking vise. Love watching my cock fuck your perfect little asshole.”
I am used to his dirty words, but they never fail to fill me up with a delicious sense of pleasure. He speeds up his strokes, and I know by the way his leg muscles vibrate when he slams into the back of mine, that he’s close. His cock throbs back there inside of me as he holds it still for a few seconds, letting my body tremble around him. I grind back, bucking my hips into him hard, letting him know that I want him as badly as he wants me.
His hand replaces mine on my clit, and while he fucks up into me hard from behind, he swirls one finger over my clit, spreading the moisture from my weeping pussy all over me. He fucks me with punishing strokes that fill me up so full I want to burst. I love the burn and the pain that combines with the heady pleasure of having him back there, of taking me in the most intimate of spots.
“Come for me. Gotta watch you come all over my cock. Feel that ripe ass of yours rippling on my dick.”
He pinches my clit so unexpectedly that it tumbles me straight into a climax, just as he commanded me.
I come hard, my climax shattering over me, making my legs so weak that I can’t hold myself up, and I am thankful for Steel’s big hand gripping my hip, hauling me up into him. He punishes my ass with long strokes that increase the painand pleasure of the waves already ripping through me. My body breaks out in a clammy sweat, and the slick moisture spilling down my thighs makes our skin stick and slap together with every hard thrust. I love that sound, the messy, slapping sounds of him fucking me hard, of my body taking all of it, giving a man like Steel all the pleasure he deserves.
Steel lets out a roar as he finishes and I feel the hot jets of his cum burst inside of me. It sends me into another smaller, sweeter climax, feeling his pleasure flood me, hearing that primal sound of pleasure that I have torn from him.
Afterward, he pulls out and disappears into the bathroom adjoining our room. He brings back a warm washcloth and cleans me up so tenderly that tears spring to my eyes.
After he has cleaned up as well, I tug my dress down and turn around slowly, perched on the edge of the bed. My eyes track his every movement as he goes to our dresser and pulls out a clean pair of panties for me. He hands them over with a dirty wink, and when I get to my feet and waver a little, he lets out a full belly laugh. His hand shoots to my elbow to brace me.
I lean into him, my hand going to his shoulder to steady myself. My fingers graze the spot, over his dark shirt, where the bullet used to be, the one my father shot into him. I didn’t realize that the club had a doctor on their payroll, a retired old man who could perform certain surgeries, but the only pain killer he had was a bottle of whiskey. I watched as Steel had the piece of cold metal removed from his shoulder. He didn’t make a sound. Just sweated and grunted through it. It left him with a wicked-looking scar, raised and pink, one I kiss every single night, so thankful it is there and not a few inches lower, where it would have stopped his beautiful beating heart.
“You know, Leah… “
I look up into Steel’s shining gray eyes. “What’s that?”
“I fucking love you.”
I feel my face break into a grin so wide that it hurts. “That’s a good thing,” I tease. “Because I fucking love you, too.”
***
The Canteen is dressed up, but only just enough to mark the occasion.
Blue and white balloons are tied to exposed pipes and support beams, some of them sagging slightly where the tape didn’t quite hold. Streamers hang crooked along the walls and over the bar, tangled up with old neon signs and Riders banners that never come down.
It’s a week after Harley’s graduation in Miami. She’s back in town while she decides what to do next. I know Steel hopes she’s planning on staying in Helena.
The smell of food already cooking rolls through the bar, Hecker’s set up grills around the back, and Brick and Snake have offered to act as grill masters for the night. The place is packed, bodies pressed close, and the air-conditioning never stood a chance. It’s sweltering. I can already feel sweat gathering between my shoulder blades, trickling down my back.
“Do you see Harley?” Steel asks.
I turn, scanning the crowd—bikers, old ladies, town locals, and a decent number of people who clearly don’t usually set foot in a place like this. Harley’s old school friends stand out immediately. They’re sticking together near the far end of the bar, drinks clutched carefully, their eyes wide but curious. They look like they’re trying to convince themselves they belong here.
“No,” I say. “She didn’t say she was going anywhere. Her friends are over there. And she was sitting with my mom earlier.”
Steel follows my gaze. His jaw tightens the way it always does when his attention lands on anything connected to his daughter.
My mother’s seated at one of the tables at the edge of the room. She’s doing well now. I finally managed to get her into a program that specialized in complex grief therapy. We both needed it. She’s been accepted into the wider Steel Riders family, and it’s only right she came tonight. While Steel and I aren’t married, in our world we are, and I guess Harley is her step-granddaughter. And technically my stepdaughter, which considering there’s only three years between us is crazy.
In the two years I’ve been with Steel, I’ve gotten to know Harley well. She’s smart, sharp, stubborn in the best way. Talented enough to make her father proud, and independent enough to scare him. I’m not her mother, and I’ve never tried to be. If anything, we exist somewhere between friends and allies, which suits us both just fine.
Steel grumbles under his breath, something low and unreadable.
I reach out and rest my hand on his arm. “She’ll be fine, she’s probably just catching up with old friends,” I say quietly.
