Stephanie Tyler - Vipers Run

And at the same time, bringing me right back into the arms of danger.

I heard the roar of the other bikes behind us for a long while, it seemed. And then I only heard the wind and the low purr of Cage’s bike. I didn’t dare turn around, but even though Cage didn’t slow down per se, his body eased. As the bike tore through the dark and dusty roads, I relaxed more into the rhythms of the bike’s movements, found myself leaning when he leaned and rubbing my cheek along his leather jacket.

I was never more aware of the throb between my legs as I was now. It was a throb I couldn’t ignore for much longer, an ache that got more intense the farther the bike seemed to climb in altitude. My sex rubbed against the metal and leather, looking for some kind of relief. I swore I had a mini orgasm at one point, and I was sleepy and turned on and wired all at once, and I swore if Cage pulled over and wanted to take me in the dirt, I’d be helpless to say no.

When he did pull over, he reached a hand back to hold me steady as I got off the bike. My legs were nearly jelly, and he didn’t let go, even as he swung his own leg over. His arm caught around my lower back, keeping me upright and propelling me toward the cabin. He’d parked alongside it, in a lean-to with a canvas cover he pulled down before we walked onto the porch.

“These are seriously creepy woods,” I murmured. “Serial-killer woods.”

He snorted but didn’t argue. The door was open but the low hum of a set alarm comforted me. He hit some buttons, keeping me in front of him, then closed the door and reset the alarm.

Then he flipped on the lights.

Okay, so we were cut off, but there was a bed and running water—I saw a sink—and, hopefully, heat?

When I glanced up at him, I realized I had all the heat I could need. There was a connection, an intense, inexplicable one strung taut between us, that yanked us closer until the electricity crackled.

I didn’t know what to do or say. All I could think of was, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. You’re going to be with me. You’re mine, whether you’re ready to admit it or not.”

I wasn’t. Instead, I focused on his hands going under my jacket and my shirt, caressing my bare skin. His hands were large, rough and extremely capable, like the rest of him. That thought went straight to my sex. I was already wet for him, and his tongue touched the corner of his mouth for a brief second, lingered there long enough so I could picture it licking me. Spreading my legs and taking me with his tongue, tugging my clit in his teeth . . . making me scream.

God damn, get a grip, girl. “We talked about this, Cage.”

“You’re flushed, Calla.”

“Warm in here,” I lied as coolly as I could.

He hadn’t let me go, though, and what had started back at Tenn’s was about to culminate, a freight train without breaks. There was no stopping it.

His mouth came down on mine, a brutal, heart-stopping kiss. I moaned into his mouth and I swore he smiled against mine before capturing my body against his. His grip was insistent and there was no missing how hard he was. My arms wound around his shoulders, a hand cupped the back of his neck, and I surrendered, just like that.

I sucked on his tongue the way I’d wanted to suck him earlier, and when I pulled back, I caught his bottom lip in my teeth for a second. And he ground out a groan.

“You’re in so much goddamned trouble, Calla.”

“Good,” I told him. “Show me.”

He laughed, a dark, rich sound that bit me with a hard shiver. I could lie and say it was the adrenaline of the ride, the promise of almost being caught . . . the fact that we’d made it safe and sound was what made me want to rip his clothes off. But I’d wanted to do it from the first moment I’d heard his voice.

“You. Naked. You’ve already seen me.”

“I’ve seen your dick,” I corrected.

He pulled down his fly and put my hand on his cock. “I’ve been hard for you since I walked in. The bike ride made it worse.”

I don’t think he expected me to stroke him, but I did. He stilled for a second, especially when I brought my thumb up to play with the piercing. And then he smiled and it told me that I was in trouble. The good kind. “Maybe you should get naked first.”

He obviously had no problem with that. He pushed his jeans down and pulled his shirt off. “Gotta untie my boots,” he said.

Reluctantly, I released him. He had the boots and jeans off and he was carrying me over to the couch, practically over his shoulder. He pulled open the couch bed with one hand and put me down.

He hovered over me, completely naked. “Your turn.”

He wasn’t right on me, wasn’t holding me down, and he wasn’t trying to strip me. He was watching me with a mixture of lust and concern, and while my heart tugged for what he was doing, I planned on wiping the concern right off.

I sat up slightly and pulled my tank top off. Unhooked my bra as he watched, and made short work of my own jeans. For a long moment, he just stared at me, then murmured “Beautiful” and “Mine” before kissing my belly. His hands covered my breasts, my nipples tender to his rough touch. I arched beneath them, pushing them against him. I was so wet, my legs spread, hooked around one of his thighs as his cock drove into my belly.

While at Tenn’s, I couldn’t fantasize about him. I was ruthless about cutting off my needs because I was certain that would curse us. Now, coming off my fast, I was starving, my core aching for him.

The truth was, I hadn’t enjoyed sex before this. I pretended to, made myself have and take all the power because I thought it would soothe me. It just allowed me to stay in control.

There was no control when I was with Cage—and no pretending either. He’d never allow it.

But with him, I didn’t have to pretend anything. Not with his hands on me, leaving trails that were a combination of fire and ice—intoxicating, exhilarating . . . liberating.

I’d come for him if he touched the right spot. Or anywhere close to it. And when his mouth closed on my nipple, my entire body writhed and I climaxed with a surprised, low moan.

He simply sucked harder, rubbing my sex with his thigh. And then he prepared to take me over the edge again.

“Have to taste you,” he told me, moving down between my legs, lifting my legs over his shoulders. I was completely open to him, and he licked along the seam of my sex, his tongue driving inside me. He held my thighs open as I threaded my fingers through his hair to keep him close.

“Cage . . . please,” I whispered urgently, the need for release clawing through me like a fever. The second orgasm tore through me faster than I’d ever thought possible. But Cage didn’t stop, and even when I thought I couldn’t come again, I did.

He watched my face the whole time. There was nothing sexier than that, knowing I was under his gaze, unable to escape his pleasure assault in so many ways.

I’d dreamed about this, but my dreams were always a mix of heavy sadness at knowing what I couldn’t have. This was pure, unmitigated pleasure, and I reveled in it. I swore I still smelled the scent of adrenaline from his body—the outside air that enveloped us on the ride up to the cabin.

And when I couldn’t take it any longer, he kissed his way up my belly and positioned himself over me.

His hold was strong, but it wasn’t making me panic. No, exactly the opposite, because for the first time ever—in bed—I was safe. I sagged with relief against him and his grip grew more insistent. I didn’t think it would be possible to get closer to him, but that’s what I wanted.

He could hurt me, really and truly, but his control was so finely tuned that he didn’t. It made me breathe out in wonder, enjoying the heavy weight of every part of his body on mine. His erection was pressing my belly . . . and then, when he moved down, it pressed against the tight, hot bundle of nerves between my legs.

I shifted my hips to press back just as wantonly, murmured, “Please.”

“I’ll please you, Calla.”

I grabbed his shoulders, still dazed. “This is make-believe.”

He pushed up into me, filling me. I gasped. “That feel real enough for you?”

The man inside me became my world. And I was okay with that. More than okay with it.

“Stop thinking,” he growled. “I want to make you forget.”

As we rocked against each other, I knew for certain that I’d never forget him.

“So much for not sharing my bed,” Cage murmured several hours later.

“Technically, this is a couch.”

“A pullout, making it a bed.”

“There were extenuating circumstances,” I told him. “And I never said I wouldn’t share your bed—just that you couldn’t order me around.”

“Right.” He didn’t look convinced at all. I wasn’t either, but I frowned and tugged the covers over me. “Pull those down, babe.”

“No.” I paused. “I will if you check on Tenn.”

“I can work with that.” He reached behind him and held up his phone. There was a photo of Tenn crouching next to two men in leather vests on the ground.

“He showed them,” I murmured. Cage gave a small smile, put the phone down as he pulled the covers away from me. He covered me with his body instead, and I wrapped a leg around the back of his thigh. He had the heaters going—I’m guessing he didn’t use the fireplace because we were technically hiding. “What’s this place?”

“Vipers owns it. We call it the Cabin of Secrets,” he said with zero irony. “When the club’s got an issue, guys come here. Admit stuff. Like a confessional, without the priest.”