Ride Me Hard: A Biker Romance Serial (The Devil's Host Motorcycle Club Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

free of my mouth and clamps his hand down on my hip. “Be still. We’ll fuck when I’m ready. Right now we’re going to sleep.”
    Burning up with wanting, desperate for more, I stuff it all down. I let the exhaustion I’ve been battling overtake me. I do as I’m told.

Chapter Six

    I wake up to late morning sunlight slanting through metal blinds and Noah’s hard body still burning behind me. He rolls us over so I’m straddling him on my creaky twin bed. It’s just a mattress and box spring on a metal frame, there’s no headboard or footboard to anchor it in place, and it sounds like something off a Halloween sound-effects tape. If he fucks me hard and fast, the way I want him to, it’ll leave gouges in the floor. I want that. I want to mark this shitty apartment so the next time my landlord is snooping around, pawing through my things, probably jerking off into my dirty laundry, he’ll know someone else was here. That my life is my own.
    My dress is bunched up around my waist, and Noah yanks it higher. “Take this off. I want to see all of you while you ride me.”
    Lust burns away the haze of sleep. I’ve never been on top before, but I’ve seen it in movies, imagined what it would be like…exposed and awkward. In control. I fumble with the zipper at my back and peel the awful uniform off my body. At the last second I do a little shimmy, twirl the dress lasso-style, and fling it across the room. “Like this?”
    “Just like that.” Noah’s smile is the eye of a storm. Bright sunshine in the middle of a hurricane. Unlikely and unsettling in its perfection. “Gimme a show.”
    My whole body lights up with his approval. “I’ll try.”
    I unhook my bra, and I’m not even worried that it’s one of the sturdy ones I always wear for work, dingy gray from too many trips through the wash with jeans before I learned to rinse them in the sink and hang them over the shower rod. He’s looking at me like I’m wearing one of the laciest negligees I ever saw while window-shopping at Victoria’s Secret. His hungry gaze is sexier on my skin than any silk or satin I could’ve grabbed off the clearance rack.
    The wide straps slip down my arms, and my breasts, finally freed, ache to be touched. As if the bastard can read my mind, Noah tucks his hands behind his head. Denying me, making me suffer. He’d said it outside; he likes to watch me squirm. He’d said it just now. He wants to watch.
    I’ve never been so turned on in my life, so I cup my own breasts. I imagine how they’d feel to him. Soft. Smooth. I flick my thumbs over tight nipples and test their weight—heavy. Spurred on by his grunts of approval and the sparks of pleasure, I knead them with my palms. Squeeze them cruelly the way he would. When I pinch my nipples, he lifts his hips off the bed.
    “It’s a crime you’re not topless all the time. Perfect. Fucking. Breasts. I’m gonna come all over them later. What are you thinking about while you play with them? Tell me.”
    Every inch of my skin is already blushing, yet somehow I pulse hotter. My cheeks. My chest. I feel heavy, like my blood is thicker than normal, like there’s more gravity in the room simply because he’s in it. Maybe there is. It draws words out of my mouth I didn’t even know I had in me. “You. I’m thinking about your greedy hands all over me. Rough and dirty. How you’d pinch and tug and take. How you’d fuck me up.”
    “That what you want?”
    His cock is hard behind denim, and I grind down on it. My pussy is still so wet and sensitive, I think I could come again just like this with a few jerks of my hips—rocking against the rough fabric trapping his erection. “Unnh. You know it is.”
    He hooks an arm around me and crushes me against his chest. I can hardly breathe from the shock of it. He grabs my ass with one hand and the back of my head with the other, pressing my face into his shoulder. I’m trapped in his embrace, spread open and pinned. “I know