I peer up at the bare-chested, masked man standing tall above me with his jeans already unbuttoned and unzipped.
Do I whimper?
Absolutely. Unrepentantly. Anyone faced withthatwould whimper and I will not be taking questions.
Spreading my legs wide in the dirt, I slowly run my own fingers down my body, letting out a soft moan when they brush directly over my sensitive clit. “Please, no. Whatever you do, mister masked man... do not fuck me until I can’t walk.”
The low chuckle he lets out is so wicked that it dances along my skin, setting my already hyper-sensitive nerves on a much higher edge. He slides his heavy hand inside his open jeans, wrapping his fingers around his thick length and pulling it completely out into the open. His palm works his cock slowly, teasing me visually with exactly what I’m hungry for.
“Turn the fuck over,” he orders darkly, dropping heavily to his knees between my thighs.
“No.”
He’s lightning-quick when he reaches out, grasping my waist with an iron grip and flipping me completely around on the ground. He ruthlessly pulls my hips back until my ass is hoisted high in the air. One of his hands goes directly to the back of my neck, holding me firmly in place against the earth, while his other hand digs deep into the sensitive skin at my hips as he notches the head of his cock right at my slick entrance.
“Who do you belong to first?” he growls, his voice a gravelly rumble that vibrates straight into my core.
“Myself.”
“Good girl,” he purrs, the praise sending a heavy spike of heat straight between my thighs. “Who do you belong to second?”
Why do these two questions turn me into a flustered, horny mess every single time he asks them?
“You,” I breathe against the fallen leaves, my fingers clawing into the dirt.
“Who do I belong to?”
“Me.”
“Good girl.”
Tomcat slams completely inside of me, my undone scream echoing wildly through the quiet woods as he immediately sets that brutal, uncompromising pace I love so damn much.
Oh, yeah. Throw a skull mask on this man, and I am an absolute puddle at his feet. Every single time. Guaranteed.
Tomcat gently brushes his fingers through my tangled hair as I lay spent and heavy on his bare chest. The peaceful quiet of the deep night has completely settled around us, neither of us ready to leave our little cocoon out here in our woods just yet.
I’ve never told him, not since that night in the shipping warehouse, but for a few heart-stopping seconds before he burst through that door, I thought I’d lost him forever. I was certain Damon would finally win and pull me under for good. I should have known better than to doubt my biker. He’s never failed me, not once.
“Hey, Goldie,” he says softly, his chest rumbling beneath my cheek.
I hum softly, signaling that I’m all ears for whatever he wants to share.
“We’ve never really talked about it much, but... what are your thoughts on kids?”
“I don’t want them.”
“Ever?”
This time, I push myself upright, needing to meet his gaze for a conversation like this. “No. I really don’t.”
“Can I ask why?”
I shrug my shoulders casually. “I never felt that specific calling, you know? For others, being a mom is a beautiful thing, but for me, the idea has always just sort of made me cringe. I love kids. They’re the fucking best. But they’re just not for me. Is that a total deal-breaker for you? Do you want them?”
“No. Not really. Never had that need either. I fucking love being an uncle to Legend and Lovelyn, but the thought of being a dad—" something moves across his expression, wry and honest. "Honestly it kind of makes me panic. And I'm too goddamn selfish to share you. I want you to myself. Just you and me, for the rest of my life."
“So I’m not the only greedy one here,” I tease, a gentle smile pulling at my lips.
