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Slade carefully moved into the bed and nestled down between Nelle’s legs and moved the T-shirt out of the way. Her slit stared back at him, stubbly skin, dry. A perfect line of temptation. Her labia curled, sleeping, not expecting the lick from an outlaw’s tongue. Her skin smelled warm. The sweet hint of honey lingering but not overpowering…yet.
Slade licked his lips again.
Sometimes it wasn’t all that bad having a woman in his bed.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A Rough Morning
It was like a dream for Nelle. And it played out that way in her head as she slept long after…
For a moment, Nelle caught herself slipping into a dream where a gigantic muffin spoke to her. An actual muffin. A blueberry muffin. Ten feet tall. Two of the blueberries as eyes. The muffin top lifting and lowering… as the mouth…?
Before Nelle could speak to the muffin she felt a wet warmth between her legs. It jolted the weird dream away and made her suck in a breath. She felt a finger touch between her legs. A thumb. A thick thumb. Stroking up, parting her labia, pressing against her clit.
Her hips moved. This was instinct. Nelle swallowed hard. Her teeth chattered and her eyes started to flicker and open. She remembered where she was. Sins of Fire Real Anarchy West. The clubhouse. The bikers. These crazy outlaws and their own set of rules.
For a moment she feared some aggressive stranger had gotten between her legs… Her legs started to close. Hands clasped at her inner thighs. Then a voice growled, “No, sweetheart. I’m not stopping until you come.”
The second she heard it was Slade’s voice, her legs opened freely and her pussy became soaked. She grabbed at the sheets on the bed and turned her head to the right to bite at a pillow.
Slade’s huge, strong hands gripped at her hips first, but then began to work up her body. Up the T-shirt she stole from one of Slade’s dresser drawers. His hands moved over her breasts, cupping with force. Slade pulled at Nelle, driving her entire body down against his mouth. With force.
Slade’s tongue darted forward and thrust into Nelle. Slithering inside her pussy, circling and curling, leaving her grinding her hips and moaning into the pillow. At the mercy of Slade and his hungry tongue.
Not a bad place to be.
Not a bad place to be at all…
When Nelle woke, she didn’t think for a second she was in a dream or had been dreaming. Everything was real. All too real. The scary stuff and the pleasure-filled stuff.
At some point either Slade or someone he ordered around brought Nelle’s bag into the room.
To her right she watched as Slade put on his leather cut, reached for a gun and tucked it away. The sight of the weapon sent chills throughout her body. She thought about her two sisters. Shot to death. And here was Nelle with an outlaw who carried a gun.
Slade turned his head. “Morning, sweetheart. Maggie will be serving up some coffee at the bar. Stay put at the corner seat if you venture out. I’ll be back in a few.”
“Should I ask…”
“No,” Slade growled.
He walked to the door and left the room. Nelle felt empty, but she reminded herself it was a good empty. A reminder that empty had purpose. No feelings in this place. Being here meant just surviving for another day. Another night. Hiding. Being protected.
And the feel of Slade’s tongue between her legs wasn’t a bad thing. Not at all.
Nelle suddenly craved coffee. That required her to find panties. A bra. Something to change into.
Once dressed, she walked out of Slade’s bedroom and worked her way toward the main part of the clubhouse. She felt her heart racing. She couldn’t believe how nervous she was. No idea where Slade was. And no idea what would happen if one of the other bikers decided to come at her. There were still plenty of rules about the motorcycle club she had no idea about.
When she saw Maggie behind the bar, there was a sad sense of relief.
Maggie looked at Nelle and smiled. “Hey. Good morning. Coffee?”
“Yes. Please.”
“I think Muffin is making his famous pancakes too. They cure hangovers. It’s magical.”
Nelle nodded.
