Ride Me Hard: A Biker Romance Serial (The Devil's Host Motorcycle Club Book 1) (6 page)

He spun her around again. “All of it off, now.”

She pushed everything down to her knees and shimmied it the rest of the way, kicking free of the tangle of denim and netting. The air conditioner purred to life, blasting them both with a burst of cool air. Her nipples tightened to lickable points. When she wrapped her arms around herself, he shook his head, and she dropped them to her sides.

She met his eyes, uncertainty and desire at war on her face.

He gathered her hair in his hand and pushed her against the window wall in his suite, forcing her legs apart with his knee. No one could see in, but the illusion was fucking hot. Her tits smashed, palms flat, breath fogging the glass. His little church mouse on display. The city, all lights and pulsing energy, spread out before them. He never got to see the cities he toured, not up close, just the vistas from his rooms and the blur from a window seat on the jet. He didn’t mind so much when he had a hot body between him and the view.

“Do you want me to fuck you like this, from behind, while the whole world watches?” He wanted to bury himself in all her softness. And he wanted it to hurt. Her or himself, he wasn’t sure.

Her only answer was the expanding cloud of condensation as she panted. And then she rocked back. The slightest shift, but just enough friction, in just the right place. He ground against her naked ass, his cock throbbing in his jeans.

She turned her head, pressing her flushed cheek to the window, and he couldn’t resist running his open mouth up the column of her neck, chasing that frantic pulse, biting the lobe of her ear until she cried out, “Nobody can see.”

“Shhhh. Everybody is watching. Let’s give them a show.” He skimmed over her rib cage, her belly, and lower, until he could feel damp heat. She wasn’t wet enough for what he had in mind. Not yet. He wanted to fuck her so hard she’d be bruised. Marked. Damaged. He circled her clit with his thumb, savoring every buck and twitch, and plunged one finger deep. The slick walls of her cunt clenched tight as he drew back. Almost ready.

“Don’t stop,” she moaned.

“I’m running things.” He bit the sweet spot where shoulder met neck in admonishment, and reached for his belt buckle. Impatient, he yanked off the belt, pulled the condom from his pocket and shucked his pants. All the while keeping one hand tangled in her hair. Holding her in place.

He considered having her put it on him with her mouth, but she probably didn’t have that skill set. Though it might be fun to watch her try, to teach her, to corrupt her.

Later.

Sheathed, he positioned himself at her opening, rubbed the head of his cock over her slick folds, and then he thrust. One fluid movement and he was balls-deep in hot, honeyed heaven. Every drop of blood in his body raged toward his hard-on. Fuck. He drew back and thrust again. And again.

God, she felt good, arching to meet him. He gripped her hip so tight his knuckles went white, pulling her back against him as hard as he thrust. He released her hair so he could grab her other hip, get more leverage, and she gasped. How tight had he pulled it?

He wanted to break her, but all she did was bend and bend.

Want to read more?
Three Nights with a Rock Star
is available now.

Devil’s Host MC Serial

Ride Me Hard #1

Break Me In #2

Drive Me Wild #3

And more…

The Half-Life Series

Three Nights with a Rock Star

One Kiss with a Rock Star

Second Chance with a Rock Star

1.   Everybody Knows by Concrete Blonde

2.   Slowly Freaking Out by Skylar Grey

3.   Bones by MS MR

4.   Send the Pain Below by Chevelle

5.   Girls Like You by The Naked And Famous

6.   Dead Inside by Muse

7.   Not Your Fault by AWOLNATION

8.   By The Throat by CHVRCHES

9.   Take Me to Church by Hozier

10.  Trust Fall by Incubus

Shari Slade is a snarky optimist. A would-be academic with big dreams and very little means. When she isn’t toiling away in the non-profit sector, she’s writing gritty stories about identity and people who make terrible choices in the name of love (or lust). Somehow, it all works out in the end. If she had a patronus it would be a platypus.

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A huge thank you to my awesome editors, betas, eagle-eyed proofreaders, and cheerleaders: Lea Schafer, Shelley Ann Clark, Maria Rose, Zoe York, Michele Harvey, Elisabeth Lane, Alexandra Haughton, and Amber Lin. Y’all rock.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. Except for use in a review, the reproduction or use of this work in any part is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.

Ride Me Hard © 2015 by Shari Slade

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