Page 34 of My Enemy Biker

My legs are shaky but I climb onto the mattress.

He strips his shirt off and I finally get my hands on him. Chest, shoulders, the defined lines of his stomach. Scars I want to ask about later. Muscle and heat under my palms.

I go for his belt but he catches my hands again. "Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Because you're going to come at least one more time before I'm inside you."

"That's very presumptuous."

"We'll see."

He pushes me back onto the bed, follows me down, settles between my thighs. His mouth finds my breast again while his hand slides between my legs.

I'm still sensitive from the first orgasm but he's relentless. Two fingers inside me, thumb circling my clit, building the pressure methodically.

"I can't—"

"You can." His mouth moves to my other breast. "You're going to come on my fingers and then I'm going to fuck you exactly how we both want."

The combination of his fingers and his mouth and his voice pushes me over again. I come gasping his name, clenching around his fingers.

When I come back to myself he's pulling his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth, sucking them clean while watching my face.

"You taste incredible," he says.

"Stop talking and get your pants off."

He grins again, that flash of something easier under the control. Stands up and strips off his jeans and boxer briefs in one motion.

His cock is thick and hard and I want it so badly my mouth goes dry.

I reach for him but he catches my wrist. "Not this time. This time I'm in control."

"Arrogant."

"Accurate." He positions himself between my thighs, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. "Look at me."

I meet his eyes.

"You want this?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Say it clearer."

"I want you inside me right now or I'm finishing this myself."

That breaks something in him. He pushes inside, slow and deliberate, letting me feel every inch as he fills me.

He's thick. The stretch burns in the best way, pleasure and pain mixed together until I can't tell the difference.

When he finally bottoms out we both freeze, foreheads pressed together, breathing hard.

"You feel—" He stops. Tries again. "You're so tight I can barely think."

"Then don't think. Move."