Part 5 (2/2)

”Let's dance,” She whispered.

”Okay,” He whispered back because, f.u.c.k, he didn't know which way was up at the moment.

Those unfathomably plump lips split into a smile and his c.o.c.k freaked the f.u.c.k out. If she hadn't started leading him out into the club he would have thrown her up against the wall and slammed his way home.

She took him dead center of the dance floor. It was packed with bodies. Sweaty, writhing bodies. He felt completely out of his element.

Then Eva began to move and he forgot all about elements and skinny b.i.t.c.hes and stupid red dis...o...b..a.l.l.s. All he could see was Eva. Nothing else existed but Eva and what she did to him.

With her back to his front, she lifted her arms over her head and hooked her hands around his neck. He grabbed her, harder than he meant to, and dug his fingers deep into her hipbones. As her juicy a.s.s. .h.i.t his c.o.c.k, he groaned.

”All you have to do is move with me!” She shouted over the music.

He didn't, he couldn't, he was far too busy trying to convince himself it would be a bad idea to take her right then and there, on the dance floor.

Her a.s.s was grinding into his rock hard c.o.c.k; her head had fallen back on his chest and her hands...

She grabbed his hands, interlocked their fingers and had him stroking across her bare stomach, her hips, the vee between her legs, and, f.u.c.k him, her t.i.ts. When he couldn't take much more, he slipped his hand down her pants and gave her what she was silently begging him for.

Her head fell back on his chest and she looked up at him with unfocused gray eyes, her nostrils flaring with heavy breaths, her wet lips parted.

He'd taken two bullets because of this b.i.t.c.h. If he ended tonight the way he wanted to end it Preacher was going to bury him. He should care about that. His kids needed their father, his MC needed their president. He had business that needed getting done and he sure as f.u.c.k wasn't ready to kick it quite yet.

He should care about all that s.h.i.+t. But he didn't. And because he didn't, because he wanted her so f.u.c.king bad he could taste the need, feel it in his f.u.c.king gut like a livewire, he brought his mouth down on hers and kissed her hard and fast, still thrusting his fingers in and out of her, swallowing her cries as bodies pressed up against them, shoving them back and forth to the rhythm of the ba.s.s pounding in his ears.

It was pouring out, we were soaking wet, the alleyway smelled like a month's worth of old garbage, Deuce was fumbling with his jeans and I had completely lost my mind. I was frantic, crawling up his big, hard body like a s.e.x starved spider monkey in heat and kissing him, f.u.c.king kissing him, giving as good as I was getting. Every kiss was full of hot, wet tongue, sometimes. .h.i.t sometimes miss. Teeth were clacking together, lips were bitten, and noses were getting in the way. I mauled him not caring where his or my mouth was landing or what part of his face I was kissing, licking, biting. His cheeks, his forehead, his chin, his neck, they were all fair game. His hands were full of my a.s.s, my hands were full of his hair, our mouths were full of each other and I had no idea where my clothing had gone. And I didn't care.

I wanted this man inside of me. So far inside of me that he wouldn't ever be able to leave.

”Gimme what I need baby, gimme that sweet p.u.s.s.y I been dreamin' 'bout.”

Oh G.o.d.

I didn't think it was possible to want him anymore than I already did. But he'd just proven me wrong.

”Please, please, just f.u.c.king take it,” I mumbled, desperate for more of him.

Staring into one another's eyes, breathy heavy, rain sluicing down in sheets between us, over us, everywhere, he started pus.h.i.+ng inside of me.

”Oh f.u.c.k yeah,” He breathed. ”You're so f.u.c.kin' wet. You f.u.c.kin' want this bad, don't you?”

”Yes,” I whimpered.

”Yeah you do,” He grunted and pushed harder. ”f.u.c.kin' tight baby, you're so f.u.c.kin' tight.”

There was a reason for that. A reason he was going to find out in about two point five seconds.

”Give it up, Eva, f.u.c.kin' open for me.” Growing impatient, he gripped my backside and pulled me down as he slammed up into me. I cried out and he froze. Just went statue still.

”f.u.c.kin' s.h.i.+t!” He yelled. ”G.o.d dammit Eva! G.o.d mother f.u.c.kin' dammit!”

Oh, my G.o.d, he was pulling out.

”No! Please! I want this!” I dug my nails into his back and tightened my legs around his waist. ”I wanted it to be you! I've been dreaming about this! About you and me! Ever since you kissed me! Even before then!”

He sagged against me. ”f.u.c.k,” He whispered.

He was still inside of me and I was so full of him and it felt so good and when I tried to move, because I had to move, wanted, needed to move, he groaned. I liked hearing him groan almost as much as I liked the feel of him inside of me and I wanted more, wanted him to move. So I told him this, told him everything I was feeling and everything more that I wanted to feel and it just kept pouring rapidly out of me, feelings and needs, because I needed him to know how much this meant to me, that it was him I'd wanted to take this from me, him I'd wanted to give it too. That it was only him I'd ever wanted inside of me and only him I'd ever want inside of me.

His eyes met mine, arctic blue and beautiful.

”Please,” I begged. ”Deuce, please.”

”I'm f.u.c.kin' married Eva. Got two kids. This is f.u.c.ked. It shouldn't have been me.”

What? Here he was inside of me, because I wanted him inside of me, because he was the only man I have ever wanted inside of me and he had the nerve to tell me it shouldn't have been him? After making me beg him?

”f.u.c.k you!” I snapped. ”I don't give a s.h.i.+t about your wife and either do you or you wouldn't have been finger f.u.c.king me in the club and you definitely wouldn't have carried me out here with every intention of f.u.c.king me! You can't tell me it shouldn't have been you! You don't get to make that decision, I do! And I did and it's done! And I'm not giving it back!”

His eyes flashed with anger. ”I can't give you s.h.i.+t!” He hissed. ”All I've got to give you is my f.u.c.kin' c.o.c.k and that's not good enough! Not for you! Not even f.u.c.kin' close! You deserved better than this! Better than a f.u.c.kin' s.h.i.+t filled alleyway and definitely better than me!”

There is was. The pain I glimpsed every time we crossed paths. The sadness that never seemed to leave him.

”You're better than you think,” I whispered. ”I didn't realize it when I was little, didn't understand that look in your eyes, why you always looked so sad, but I get it now. Someone got inside of you and messed you all up, made up down and left right so now you think you're s.h.i.+t when you're not even close. So you need to listen to me when I tell you that you are better than you think. You're even better than that. To me, you're the best.”

His nostrils flared. ”Eva,” He groaned.

”What?”

”Shut up.” His mouth met mine and we kissed slowly, deeply, deliciously lazy.

”Gonna f.u.c.k you now baby,” He muttered into my mouth.

Oh. Good. So good.

”Okay,” I breathed.

And he did. Up against a dirty brick wall, in a garbage filled alleyway home to rats and feral cats, while warm summer rain poured down over us. And it was perfect. Better than I'd imagined. Better than anything. The best.

I spent the next four years in college, spent my days studying, shopping with Kami, trying to ditch Frankie, and enjoying my life. And I spent my nights reliving my moments with Deuce. All four of them.

The day after my graduation ceremony, I packed a backpack, grabbed Kami, wrote my father a note and got on an airplane headed for Miles, Montana.

Headed for Deuce.

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