Page 31 of My Reckless Biker

He's all hard lines and controlled power and I want to feel all of it against me, over me, in me.

His mouth leaves my breast and he straightens, both hands going to my jeans. He undoes the button and zipper and hooks his thumbs in the waistband and pulls them down along with my underwear in one rough motion.

I step out of them and I'm completely bare and he's still half-dressed and the asymmetry makes me feel exposed in ways that should make me self-conscious.

But the way he's looking at me erases any thought of hiding.

He's staring like I'm something he's been starving for. Like every soft curve and thick thigh and full breast is exactly what he wants.

His eyes track down my body and stop between my legs and his hands flex like he's restraining himself from just grabbing.

"Bed," he says. The command in his voice is unmistakable.

I turn to move toward it but his hands catch my hips and turn me to face the mattress instead.

"No," he says. "Like this. Hands on the bed. Bend over."

My breath catches. I do what he says, bracing my palms on the mattress, bending at the waist, and I hear him behind me making a sound that's pure male satisfaction.

His hands slide over my hips, my ass, my thighs, exploring like he's memorizing the shape of me.

Then his hand slides between my legs from behind and his fingers find where I'm already wet and I hear his sharp intake of breath.

"Christ," he mutters. "You're soaking."

I am. I'm so turned on I'm shaking with it. His fingers slide through the wetness, circling but not entering, teasing, and I push back against his hand seeking more pressure, more friction, more anything.

"Greedy," he says, and I can hear the dark satisfaction in his voice.

Then his fingers slide inside me, two at once, and the sudden stretch makes me moan.

He doesn't move them at first, just lets me feel the intrusion, the fullness, and then he starts to work them deeper, curling, finding angles that make my whole body tense.

"That's it," he says, and his other hand is on my lower back, pressing down slightly, adjusting my angle. "Take it."

His fingers move and find something inside me that makes white sparks flash behind my eyes.

He feels my reaction and focuses there, relentless and precise, and I'm gripping the mattress so hard my knuckles are white.

His other hand slides around my hip and his fingers find where I'm most sensitive and he rubs in tight circles while his other hand keeps working inside me and the dual sensation is too much, building too fast, and I'm trying to tell him I'm close but the words won't come.

"Come on," he says, voice rough. "Let me feel it."

The orgasm hits sudden and hard and I come around his fingers with a cry that I couldn't stop if I tried. My whole body clenches and shakes and he works me through it, fingers gentler now but not stopping until the last aftershock fades.

I'm gasping for air, thighs trembling, and I hear him undoing his jeans. The sound of a zipper. Fabric hitting the floor. His boots thudding one after the other.

Then his hands are on my hips again and I feel him behind me, naked now, and the thick length of him presses against my ass and I realize how big he is and my breath catches.

His hand grips my hip harder and he positions himself and I feel the blunt head of him pressing against my entrance.

He pushes in slowly. Just the tip at first. And already the stretch is intense, almost too much, and I have to force myself to breathe and relax.

He holds still, giving me time to adjust, and I can feel him shaking with the effort of going slow.

"Breathe," he says. "Relax. Let me in."

I do. I breathe out and consciously relax and he pushes in another inch and the sensation is overwhelming. He's thick and hard and I'm stretched around him and I can feel every ridge, every vein, the heat of him sinking into me.