“Ah, God, Mick . . .”
His thick cock slid in and out, in this position easily hitting her G-spot, and pleasure built quickly, a deep, thrumming rhythm. His cock and his hard, pinching fingers on her nipples causing sensation everywhere—thrilling, dazzling. Even better when he bit into her shoulder, his teeth sinking deep while his tongue swirled over her skin.
Her mind was spinning, out of control, pleasure and pain all one thing. He fucked her harder, his cock jackhammering into her, making her gasp with each punishing stroke. His hands wrapped around her breasts, pressing hard, hurting her. Making her dizzy with the desire for more.
He bit her harder. She felt his body tense and knew he was ready to come. And at that moment he reached down to pinch her clit, using his nails to bite hard into the sensitive flesh.
“Ah, God!”
It fucking hurt. But she was coming and coming, her hips arching into his hurting touch, back to take his big cock in deep. He was growling, panting, his teeth sinking deeper. And she was coming so damn hard the coming itself was painful, the pleasure almost too much to take. He fucked her harder, slamming into her, and she was drowning in the heat of his body, his scent filling her head as her climax crashed over her again and again.
“Ahhhhhh! Mick!”
“Baby, baby . . .”
They collapsed on the bed together. He was still inside her, still hard even though she knew he’d come. They lay on their sides, his taut stomach pressed against her back, his arms still around her. They were both slick with sweat. Lovely, that slippery friction of damp skin against damp skin. He slung one leg over her hip and pushed in and out of her almost lazily, his slowly softening cock causing small frissons of orgasm to shiver through her.
“Oh, that’s good,” she murmured, locking her fingers with his. He held on tight, brought their clasped hands up to her chest and nestled them between her breasts.
“I can feel your heart pounding,” he whispered into her hair. “So is mine.”
“I can feel it against my back,” she told him, “I can feel your heartbeat echoing all the way up my spine.”
They were quiet for a long time, simply relaxing, trying to catch their breath.
Finally he said, “This is it, you know. This is what I want.”
Her heart surged at hearing him say it. She’d thought that was what he’d meant when they’d talked the night before. But the confirmation was lovely to hear. She’d needed to hear it. “Me, too.”
He slipped out of her and rolled her over then, pulling her in close to his big body. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her. He was watching her again, searching her face.
“What is it, Mick?”
He shook his head, leaned in and kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. He was being so tender with her, so sweet it made her heart thump, her stomach flutter. Her nerves sang with the one truth she had known almost her whole life.
She loved him.
She nearly said the words. But she didn’t want anything to ruin this moment. She didn’t want to risk chasing him off with too much, too soon.
Instead she reached to trace the scar on his ribs. He flinched for a moment, but she looked up into his eyes and said quietly, “Let me, Mick. Share this with me. It’s a part of you.”
“It’s an ugly part.”
She shook her head. “It’s still you. It’s one of your life’s stories. It’s one you’ve never shared with me.”
“It’s one I’d rather not talk to anyone about.”
“This is me, Mick. Tell me. Please. It’s part of that transparency, right? How can we be together in the BDSM realm if I don’t know you as well as you know me? How can we have that ultimate connection—the power exchange—that’s so much a part of BDSM relationships if it’s not an exchange? I want that with you.”
He shook his head again and she thought he would argue. But after a few moments he said, “You’re right. But only because it is you, Allie.” He paused, ran a hand over his jaw, his eyes going dark and a little stormy. “Okay. I’ll tell you.”
CHAPTER Twelve
MICK SMOOTHED A hand over her stomach, taking the heat of her body into his palm, his fingertips. He concentrated on that sensation for several long moments while he tried to get his head together, his thoughts organized.
“Okay.” He took in a deep breath. “So . . . when I went away to Louisiana State in Baton Rouge, I sold all my older, crappy bikes I’d worked on and rebuilt through high school and got the new Yamaha. I loved that bike. It was fast. Beautiful. All shining chrome, and I swear that thing purred at me when I really opened her up.”
“Jamie mentioned it a time or two when I saw him after you left.”
“Did he also mention I liked to drive too fast?”
She shrugged. “I already knew that. Anyway, Jamie and his muscle cars . . . he was nineteen, too. I doubt he even noticed.”
“Yeah, probably true.”
She laid a hand on his chest. “So, what happened, Mick?” she asked softly.
He focused again on the heat of her touch, using it to calm him. He did not want to talk about this. But it was Allie, and he would do it for her. “Motorcycles are tricky things. Especially when someone too young and arrogant thinks he’s in control of that kind of machine. All it takes is one pebble on the road. One moment where you don’t let out the clutch just right taking a turn, or you’re not focused enough on what’s right in front of you. That’s what happened, I guess. I wasn’t focused, wasn’t paying enough attention. Wasn’t giving the bike and the speed the respect those things deserve.
“I don’t even know exactly what happened, as stupid as that sounds. It was stupid. Totally irresponsible. I woke up in the hospital and they told me I’d wrapped my bike around an old oak tree in someone’s front yard. In the middle of the Goddamn day. Could have been someone’s kid out there, you know?” His chest pulled tight. It wasn’t any easier to say it now, even after all the years that had passed. It felt like the damn words were choking him. He could barely stand to look at her while he said these things. “Thank God it was just my reckless, idiotic ass out there. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it—that I could have hit someone. I could have fucking killed someone. It’s still there in the back of my mind. It’s always there.”
“You can’t do that to yourself, Mick.”
“No? How can I not hold myself accountable? For what happened. For what could have happened. Especially after Brandon. We all saw firsthand what that did to his parents, to Summer. To all of us—his friends—especially Jamie. I knew better. Or, I should have. And Allie, I come from a family of men who care for the people of our community. Not only did I take a stupid-ass risk with other people’s lives, I took away my own . . . shit. It sounds selfish as hell to even mention it.”
“What?” she asked, her tone gentle. “Tell me.”
He looked away, shook his head, but he went on, his blood pounding in his temples. “I took away my chance to . . . my ability to serve this city the same way my family has for generations. That accident ate a part of my soul. A part I’ll never get back.”
“Oh, Mick.”
He flinched. “Ah, stop it, Allie. I can’t take anyone’s pity and you know it.”
He felt her fingertips soft on his cheek, and he allowed her to turn his face back to hers. Her brown eyes were sheened with tears, gleaming golden in the misty morning light.
“This is me, Mick. You know it’s not pity, that hearing you say it makes my heart break for you. To know you’ve carried that kind of guilt all this time. But I’ve never pitied you. I thought you were just mad.”