My hands found the opening of his cut and shoved it off quickly. “You don’t get to sit there and tell not to fucking worry about you as if anything doesn’t matter.” I gripped his shirtand yanked him forward as our lips smashed into each other, fighting for control.
All the pent up energy, all the times throughout the day I was horny as hell was leading up to this. He was hiding something and I was bound to find out one way or another.
His tongue pushed into my mouth, devouring every inch he could. His fingers found the edge of my scrub top and whipped it off of me. My nipples brushed against him, leading him to palm my breasts, giving them a soft massage before pinching the sensitive buds between his fingers. I moaned at his playfulness. I missed this.
I wanted his touch all over me, my body felt like a furnace, burning with need. A need for him to claim me once again.
He pulled away but not before he tangled his fingers in my hair, the slight pain from the grip sent chills down my spine. My hands braced on his chest, as I whimpered for him. “I meant it. There are things you don’t need to worry about.”
“Easy to say. You want me to sit back and just pray that you don’t come back in pieces or better yet pray that you come back alive.” My words felt like a curse, one unspoken for so long.
“Have you thought about the fact that I don’t need you to think about things that’s related to the club to keep you safe and have peace of mind?” he tried to reason.
He tried to distract me, more like cave in as his lips trailed up and down my neck, switching between biting and sucking, trying to leave his mark on me again. My own hands weaved into his hair, holding him close, never wanting to close the distance. I needed to release all that was bubbling up inside of me.
“Have you thought about just telling me what’s happening, so I don’t fucking question you?” I asked in fury. This tip toeing across the line and distracting wasn’t working, no matter how much the man sent me in a frenzy.
I reached for his jeans, popping the button off, pulling down the zipper. “I am allowed to question your safety.” I found the edge of his briefs, skimming my fingers along the line. My own temptation took the lead, as my fingers found his hardened cock, the lightest pre-cum building at the tip.
He loosened his hold on me, staggered back to the edge of one of the beds. It squeaked as he shifted his weight, leaned back on his hands, with legs spread open.
“You wanna play this game, peaches, I’m all yours,” he challenged me.
I accepted that challenge. “Everything off. Now,” I commanded.
He grinned, happily obliged. The shiver of anticipation only fired up my confidence. Two could play the game of seduction until you get what you want. With Shooter that was a lot. The man could make promises and I'd believed every single of them. He kicked off his shoes, then carefully slid his jeans down, pushing them off to the side. His smug face knew that I was watching every movement, craving him even more.
He slowed his movements, still dressed in his long sleeve and his briefs. His hardened cock was beautifully outlined and begging for attention. He leaned back on his hands, like he was waiting for his next command or just egging me on. The peek of his tanned skin between the edge of his shirt and the line of his briefs, showing me his happy trail that I knew would make mehappy. I licked my bottom lip.
“I said, off,” I growled, worked up, on edge, desperate for him to be inside me.
Even through his beard I saw the curl of his lips. “Make me.”
“I’m in charge here.” My brows furrowed.
“Really? Because what if I don’t listen? Tell me, Amelia,” he pushed me.
I didn’t tell him.
I showed him.
I shimmed off my bottoms and panties in one swoop, unclasped my bra, showing him everything he wished he could touch, to taste. I locked onto his darkened eyes, caressed my skin from my nipples down to my stomach, down to my throbbing pussy already wet from thinking of the dirty thoughts in my head.
Shooter growled out, following where my hands were, itching to play. I spread my pussy lips apart, showing him just how wet I was, how much I needed him. I teased my clit, throwing my head back, pretending it was him playing.
“Good boys get to play, and right now,” I said, circling my clit, moaning along with the pleasure, “you’re being very naughty.”
I thought I was brilliant, at the very least cheeky. To Shooter, I was dangling the carrot.
“Amelia,” he growled out. “You’re touching what’s mine.”
“Yours? That means you should earn it.” I kept circling around, building an orgasm, knowing he was watching me and I had an ounce of power over him. Or least, I thought I did until a strong hand gripped my wrists, pulling me away and pulling me in front of him until I felt the heat of his breath inches away from my pussy.
Not exactly my plan but I’d go along with it.
“No, sir, you weren’t supposed to do that.” I pouted. I was so close to breaking him, or so I thought.
“Did you just tell me no?” he asked.
