Biker Billionaire Boxed Set Page 4

  "Am I hurting you?" Shane asked, still barely fluttering his hips, not thrusting almost at all. "You're so tight, so goddamned tight."

  I shook my head, sucked in a breath to speak. "No...you're perfect. Just go slow."

  A lift of my hips brought him nearly out of me, and he pushed towards me, wanting to bury himself again. I sank down, and this time I took his length all the way in, impaled him to the hilt, ground my hips against his. I collapsed against him, crushing my lips to his, my breath coming in shallow pants, sweat beading down my spine.

  Fire was roiling in my belly, liquid heat pooling between my thighs, spreading to every inch of my body, coating every pore of my skin with hypersensitivity. He started to move into me, gradual pulsations and gentle pushes. Every movement sent ecstasy thrilling through me, stealing my breath, pulling whimpers from my throat. I matched his rhythm, barely moving in and out; I clutched him, arms around his neck, my entire body pressed against his, our sweat commingling and our breath merging. His lips grazed my shoulders and his fingers dug into my hips and thighs, straining for control.

  I felt his muscles tense around me, and then there was a dizzy moment when the room span and rolled and suddenly he was on top me, his weight heavy but not crushing, his cock thrusting more fully now but not crashing. His mouth found my nipples, and he nipped my erect, sensitive nubs with his teeth, drawing little shrieks from me.

  "God, you are so responsive," he said, curling my hair into his fingers.

  He tugged my head backward and ran his lips on my throat and down to my breasts in a line of moist, fiery, kisses.

  "Responsive?" I could only gasp the word.

  "The way you react to what I'm doing. You make a noise every time I touch you. I love it."

  He was moving more vigorously now, drawing himself out farther and pushing back in, and I moaned with each motion of his hips, each delicious stroke of his cock. I couldn't help the sounds I was making, they were being drawn from me, pulled out of my throat like an illusionist pulling a string of multi-colored scarves hand over hand.

  "I'm not usually so noisy," I said, planting a kiss on his cheek, his jaw, and finally his lips.

  "Don't stop," he said. "I love it. I love the noises you make."

  "Then don't stop what you're doing," I told him, smiling against his mouth.

  "Not for anything," he promised.

  He pulled out so only the very tip of his cock was in me, hooked my legs over his shoulders and drew his knees underneath him. The entire weight of my lower half was now supported by his cock and my legs on his shoulders. My hands clutched the comforter, clawing with desperate strength as he started to drive himself into me, slow at first, then with increasing speed. My hips ground against him, and now I was taking his cock in its entirety, the full length plunging in and ramming against my walls, slipping with slick speed back out, only to crush in again, squishing with the juices leaking from my throbbing tissues.

  My moans were vocal now, not just whimpered breaths, but fully-voiced cries of pleasure. He joined me, growling and grunting, a ravaging beast with wild eyes and flashing muscles, sweat-sheened and sensual. He was growing frantic in his thrusting, and I felt a tremor begin in my thighs, a shaking of the muscles at first. I was helpless to slow my bucking hips, rising up onto the small of my back and rolling my pussy onto him, moaning non-stop now.

  The tremors spread like wildfire to my vaginal muscles, and up to my stomach, my lungs, my arms and legs, until I was thrashing as if possessed. He was pistoning into me, mouth wide in a building roar. The tremors became an earthquake, and then a tectonic shifting, my entire body convulsing, and still I wasn't in full orgasm and neither was he.

  I was crying out now, louder than my voice had ever gone and I was completely in his thrall, taken by him, my body brought to an apex of sensation. He bellowed, then, and his cock pulsed and thrust in a hard, staccato rhythm and I felt him come, felt his muscles tense and he leaned into my legs. I saw stars then, as my own orgasm began, pinpricks of white across my vision, little dots of non-color spreading out to each other until all the world was white and my body was locked in a spasm, ecstasy so intense and unending and unrelenting I couldn't even cry, couldn't sob or breathe or even blink. His cock continued to dive into me, pushing the explosions in my body hotter, higher, more potent. I thought I was being ripped into two by pure, unadulterated pleasure, and still he thrust, still he came.

  A single thought passed through my mind: I wanted him bare inside me, so I could feel his seed wash through me. Nothing else mattered but achieving that sensation, consequences be damned.

  Thought was banished, then, as the detonations rolled through me, convulsing me, and somehow my legs were on the bed and his weight was on me and still he was fluttering his cock into me, drawing the very last dregs of sensation out of me.

  My breath came back in a heady, dizzy rush, and I realized part of the reason I'd seen stars was I'd been literally, physically unable to breathe, so intense was my orgasm.

  I heard a choking sound, and felt my chest heaving, and I realized the sound was me, sobbing uncontrollably, bawling and shuddering.

  Shane realized it as soon as I did, and immediately rolled off me, cupping my cheek in his hand. "I hurt you." He seemed frightened of the thought, abjectly sorrowful. "You're crying."

  I shook my head and forced breath into my lungs, shoved the tears away.

  "No, no. Shane..." I rolled over to flop onto his chest and his arm wrapped me into him. "I'm crying because I've never...because you just fucked me breathless."

  "Is that a good thing?" He was searching my eyes, still looking worried.

  "Oh god yes. Hell yes." I couldn't figure out how to make him understand what I'd just experienced. "You've ruined me, you know."

  "What?" He looked panicked. "I used a condom, you saw me put it on."

  I laughed, realizing how that had sounded. "No, I just meant you've ruined me for all other men. It's impossible for anyone to ever do that to me again."

  Shane sighed in relief. "Shit, you scared me."

  "Sorry. I just can't express how what you did to me felt. I didn't know sex could be like that."

  He grinned and squeezed me in a one-armed hug. "Oh, Leo. You've been so badly deprived, then." He rested his hand on my hip, then cupped my ass.

  I wiggled my butt into his hand. I loved how he touched me. And then I worried about how often since I'd met I'd thought the word "love" in reference to him.

  "So, was it okay, for you?" I asked.

  Shane looked at me, incredulous. "Was it okay, she says."

  He rolled on top of me, and I felt a semi-solid pressure on my belly. I made a pleased noise low in my throat, amazed that he could be ready again so soon.

  "It was, and I mean this literally, the best sex of my life." Shane lowered his lips to mine, and kissed me with shocking tenderness.

  "Bullshit," I said.

  He huffed a laugh. "I would never bullshit a bullshitter."

  I reached between us and fondled his growing member, and then realized he was still wearing a condom, limp and sodden. I pulled it free and set it on his bedside table. He cocked an eyebrow at me, then reached for another one.

  I stopped him. "I'm about to start my period," I lied. "We don't need one."

  He hesitated. "I'd rather not take any risks."

  I knew it was a risk too, but I didn't care, not in that moment. Besides, if I was already in that kind of trouble, then it didn't matter anyway. I touched him again, sliding my hands on his slick, come-drenched member. He moaned, pressed his forehead to mine. He was moving his hips subtly, now with a raging hard-on.

  I pulled him into me, and he still hesitated, trying to pull out. What a man.

  "I want it bare," I said. "I want to feel you shoot your load into me."

  "I really shouldn't," he protested.

  But it was too late. I was grinding into him, stretched and ready for his cock.

  He moaned, half in enjoyment
and half in frustration.

  His eyes flashed, and then he seemed to make a decision. "If you're sure," he breathed.

  Then he rolled off me, ignoring my mewl of protest. He slid off the bed, grabbed my foot by the heel and pulled me toward him. He took my other foot and twisted my legs so I had no choice but to roll over onto my stomach. I looked at him in pretend fear over my shoulder, clawing at the bed as if resisting. He grinned like a feral Cheshire Cat, dragging my ass toward his rigid cock. He let my toes touch the ground, then slipped a hand under my pelvis and lifted me up, shoving a pillow under my belly, low, so it stuck my ass even higher.

  I was barely able to touch the carpet with one big toe, dangling half-on, half-off the bed, precarious and without balance or control over my movements. Shane took his cock in his hand and probed at my ass with it, dragging the tip down my crack, then lower still. I spread my legs wide, felt his hands dig into my ass cheeks and spread them apart.

  He slapped my ass cheek with a hand, hard enough to sting, eliciting a suprised shriek from me, then he kissed the spot he'd smacked, turning the shriek to a moan. He did the same to the other cheek, and this time when he kissed it, I moved my hips against him. He alternated slapping and kissing until I couldn't take much more, and right at that moment, he smoothed his palms across the skin of my buttocks.

  I rolled my hips again, a wordless plea to be touched.He brushed my pussy entrance with his cock, pausing. "Last chance to get away, my pretty little lion."

  I looked at him over my shoulder, eyebrows high and eyes wide. "Oh, Shane, I'm so scared."

  "You should be," he said, his lip curling in primal desire and carnal humor.

  Then he slipped himself in, as slow and careful as the first time. He buried himself into me, drove himself to hilt in the first plunge. I arched my back and gasped, bit the comforter, and already I felt the tremors begin, despite the fact that I was still feeling the aftershocks of the last orgasm.

  He was resting his hands on my ass, moving just the first few inches in and out, and with each rocking slide I gasped, pushing my buttocks into him. He gripped one hip with his hand and increased his tempo, more sure of himself now that he knew I could take him without being split in half. A dozen strokes in, and I felt an orgasm building and my hips began to circle onto his cock, which he was moving at half-speed now.

  When I was moaning in delirium, he reached under his cock, leaning over me, and found my clit with his middle finger, circling it in wide strokes.

  "Oh god, oh god," I shrieked.

  I came, hard. I saw stars again, and felt my lower half convulsing. He didn't stop, though, and I realized he was just getting started on me. His finger was still moving around my clit, and his cock was thrusting into me, and I was sobbing and moaning into the blanket, trying to rock my hips but unable to move for the unbalanced position and the orgasm rocketing through me, building and building to a higher peak.

  He started to grunt, long rasping outbreaths, and he pushed even harder into me, his finger working my wet, aching button even more furiously, flailing my building second orgasm into a wild climax. I came again, and felt my pussy clench around his cock, tightening onto him, and then he came and all control was lost.

  He was slamming into me, and I felt his balls slapping as they pulsed. His come was a hot flood inside me, filling every space not taken by his wickedly wonderful member with viscous fluid. I came a third time and then I lost the ability to count or think as the orgasms rolled into each other, no longer waves of pleasure or ecstasy but a roaring apocalypse of delirious sensation, orgasm after orgasm, just coming and coming and I couldn't even whimper, just hold my trembling, quivering mouth against the scratchy, clean smelling blanket and let him plunder at his will.

  He was bent over me, now, breath heaving into my still-damp hair, rough and desperate gasps for air. He was trembling all over, tremoring into me still, involuntary shudders of his cock into my quaking pussy.

  "If I come one more time I'll die," I whispered.

  "Then I'd better give you a break, huh?" Shane whispered back.

  He moved off of me, but I was jellified, unable to move and he had to catch me, lift me onto the bed.

  "Yeah, just...just for a few minutes," I said.

  "How many times did you come?" Shane asked.

  I shook my head. "I don't even know. Three? After three I lost count. They were coming so close together I couldn't even move or think."

  "I've never come so hard in my life," Shane said.

  "That's what you said the last time."

  Shane grinned. "Well, apparently it got better."

  * * *

  We went again that night, twice more, before falling asleep well past dawn. Each time was better than the last. When Shane and I finally collapsed into each other's arms, we were both spent and exhausted past all comprehension.

  I was sore all over, and had never enjoyed pain so much.

  I woke up with afternoon light streaming down on me from a window, and Shane sitting on the bed next to me with a cup of coffee in each hand, the scent of the coffee having woken me up.

  "Morning, sleepyhead," he said, handing me the coffee as I sat up, not bothering to cover up with the sheets.

  "You are a saint," I said. "You even serve coffee in bed."

  He just smiled and we sipped our coffee in companionable silence. I was tempted to kiss him, but I knew how I tasted, and I felt things squishing out of me that needed cleaning.

  I was at the end of a long, luxurious soak in the shower when it happened. I felt the unmistakable clamp-gush of my period starting, and then something trickled down my thigh.

  I slumped to the shower floor, tears of relief burning my eyes. Shane heard me and came running.

  "Are you okay? What happened? Did you—shit, you're bleeding."

  I shook my head in denial and took his outstretched hand to lift me up.

  "No, I'm fine, it's just my period."

  "Then why are you crying?"

  I hiccupped and leaned against his chest. "I—because I thought..."

  I couldn't make the words come out, as if saying it would put me in danger of having it come true still, somehow.

  Shane's eyes narrowed and his gaze hardened as he put the puzzle pieces together. His arms didn't tighten on me, but they went stiff. "You thought you were pregnant. And you let me—"

  "Not yours, Shane. His. That's what the argument was about. I told him I was late, and he just sat there. He didn't react at all. Not angry, not afraid, not anything. And I snapped. I was so sick of him being so fucking calm all the time...and then I met you and I realized I didn't have to live that way. And I didn't lie to you. When I told you I wanted you to come inside me, I knew I was either going to start my period or I was already pregnant, so it didn't matter."

  He softened. "Oh. Well...just tell me the truth, from now on, okay? If there's one thing I can't stand, in any way, shape, or form, it's being lied to, and that includes having the truth withheld."

  I nodded. "I didn't want to think about that, when I met you. I wanted to forget about it and hope it would go away. And it did, in a way." I looked up at him. "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be."

  "Well, I'm also sorry because this means we can't do anything for a few days. And you sort of started something inside me. You made me realize how sexually frustrated I was..."

  Shane chuckled. "Well, that's okay, because we have a long flight ahead of us."

  I stepped back and looked at him with raised eyebrows. "A long flight? Where are we going?"

  "I did some research on you, while you were sleeping. I spoke to your supervisors at the hospital, speaking as the CEO and founder of Rescue Medic Enterprises. They all said you're rock-solid under pressure, that you're a certified Paramedic and you've got extensive experience with field triage techniques. They also said they were doing cuts at the hospital and you were in line to be let go."

  I rocked back on my heels. I'd suspected my job was in danger, wh
ich was another element to the stress that had likely caused me to be late. But what was he saying? I kept quiet and let him talk.

  "My point is, if you're up for it, I'd like to welcome you as the newest member of Rescue Medic Enterprises."

  "You're hiring me?" I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

  "If you'd like to try something new, yes. Civil war has broken out in Sudan again, and my brothers are already en route. I've already booked us two seats out of Metro."

  My head was spinning. "Sudan? Africa?"

  Shane nodded, his hand on my arm keeping me from falling over. "Yep. So get dressed, my sexy little lion. Your life's about to start."

  I sucked a breath in. "Well then, if we're going to Africa, I'm going to need something to put on my lady parts."

  Shane laughed. "That's my girl. There's a little box in the medicine cabinet. It's my sister's. She travels a lot, and whenever she passes through Detroit she stays here, so she leaves a little kit of things. The drawers have all sorts of girly shit in them. Help yourself."

  He kissed me quickly, squeezed my bottom, and left, pulling a cell phone from his hip pocket and hitting a speed dial button.

  The drawers did indeed have a very thorough supply of feminine-needs products. She had what I needed to take care of old Aunt Flow, plus some make-up, a brush—which I wished I'd known about last night—and a top-notch hair straightener. I held the straightener in my hands, considering. I'd never really bothered with straightening my hair. I'd tried it a few times, but John never seemed to care either way. Now, about to start a new life with a complete stranger, I decided to go a little out of the box.

  I straightened my hair, applied some make-up, and left the bathroom feeling sexy and fresh. My hair was now down past my shoulders, fine and shimmery and unlike I'd ever worn it. Shane had laid out my bra and panties, washed and dried, and a pair of jeans and leather bustier. They looked expensive, and just my size. I tried them on, and discovered that they did indeed fit me perfectly. I didn't recognize the bold-looking blonde biker chick in the mirror, but I liked her.