Page 5 of Her Outlaw Biker (Vanishing With the Rebel #2)

Clover

I never imagined my first kiss would feel like this…like I’m drowning, burning in a consuming fire. Like I’ve been waiting my whole life for this one moment to ruin me in the best way.

When Ghost presses his mouth to mine, the world disappears. There’s no trailer, no desert, no MC debt hanging over my head. In this moment, even my dad doesn’t exist.

Just Ghost.

His lips. His heat. The low, guttural growl in his throat when I kiss him, imitating the strokes of his tongue, following his lead.

He kisses like a man who doesn’t say much but feels too much.

His hands are braced on either side of my face, but I can feel the tremor in his arms, the way he holds back.

Like he’s afraid he’ll break me.

But I’ve been broken too many times before. Shattered by the person who was supposed to protect me. Ghost sees everything. The damage. The hunger. The fire I keep buried.

So when he pulls back, whispers his warning, I know my answer.

“Then ruin me.” I reach up, fisting his jacket, needing him now more than ever. “Please…”

His restraint snaps like a rubber band. He crushes his mouth to mine again, and this time, it’s not careful. It’s claiming.

The kiss turns filthy, open-mouthed and hot, our tongues tangling like we’re starving. He lifts me in one easy move, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carries me through the trailer like he already owns me. He kicks the bedroom door open and throws me down on the bed.

I bounce on the mattress, breathless and hungry for him, for something beyond me. His expression is dark, feral, barely holding it together. He pulls his shirt over his head and my mouth suddenly goes dry. He’s all lean muscle, scars, and ink. His abs ripple when he tosses the shirt aside.

“I’m not some good guy. You know that, right?”

I nod, my heart pounding hard against my rib cage. “I know.”

He climbs over me, slow and dangerous, his body a shadow over mine. “Yet, here you are.”

He grabs my wrists, pins them above my head. I gasp. My thighs clench involuntarily. His eyes flick down to the subtle shift of my hips, and his mouth curls. “You like being held down, pretty girl?”

Heat floods my cheeks. I’ve never even thought about it. But my body answers for me.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Yeah?” His voice drops into a growl. “That’s good, Clover. ’Cause I need to own you this first time. I need you so full of me you’ll never forget what it feels like.”

My whole body trembles in response, in anticipation.

He lets go of my wrists only long enough to strip his shirt from my body, slow, deliberate, watching my every reaction. He lays me bare like he’s unwrapping a sacred thing, his eyes reverent, wild.

“Fuck. You’re gorgeous.”

My skin prickles under his stare. My nipples harden. I want to look away, but I don’t. Not this time.

“I’ve never done this,” I whisper. “But I want to. With you.”

He stills for a moment, one hand cupping my cheek. “I know you haven’t.”

“How do you know that? Did your background check come with that information?”

He chuckles slightly, shaking his head. “No, sweetheart. Just a hunch.”

He goes silent for a moment, his eyes boring solemnly into mine. “You’re brave as hell, Clover. I won’t hurt you. But I will wreck you.”

I shiver, goose bumps crawling over my skin. “Please. I want it—I want you to wreck me.”

A low growl rips from his chest. His lips crash into mine with a hunger that robs me of my breath, but it’s the way he slows down—like he’s savoring me—that sets my insides on fire.

His tongue explores me with deliberate, knowing strokes, coaxing instead of demanding, until I’m melting into him, my body lit from the inside out.

His hand slides up my ribs, fingers grazing the soft underside of my breast before he cups it fully, possessively.

He plumps the flesh in his rough palm, thumb circling my nipple in slow, lazy spirals until it puckers tight, aching.

I arch into his touch, chasing more. Wanting more.

With a low, growling moan, he tears his mouth from mine and lowers it to my breast, drawing my nipple into the heat of his mouth.

“Oh my God,” I gasp, my fingers clenching around his shoulders, nails digging in as a sharp bolt of pleasure shoots straight through me. My thighs tense, hips twitching, everything inside me tightening in a delicious ache. “Ghost…”

He shifts, taking his time, moving from one breast to the other, then back again, his tongue flicking, lips tugging, teeth nipping just enough to make me whimper. I’m panting, hips shifting restlessly beneath him, every nerve in my body screaming for more.

Then he surprises me, taking my hand, gently, and guiding it down between my thighs. My breath catches.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he murmurs, his hand on mine, pressing my fingers to my pussy. “Show me what feels good.”

Heat floods my face. “I—I can’t.”

He pulls back just enough to look at me, confusion flickering behind the heat in his eyes. “You’ve never touched yourself?” I try to turn my face away, but he catches my chin. “Hey,” he says softly. “No shame here.”

“My dad’s shop wasn’t exactly private,” I mumble. “Then the guys from the MC were always around. And…I just didn’t.”

He watches me for a beat, something tender sparking beneath the hunger in his gaze. “Then let me help. We’ll figure it out together, alright?”

He releases my hand and gently spreads my thighs, brushing his fingers over the slick heat there. I gasp, hips jerking. He groans, the sound low and reverent, and then he bends his head again to kiss my breast, the warmth of his mouth grounding me as his fingers stroke me with maddening patience.

“I could worship your tits all night,” he growls, sucking my nipple deep. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me.”

My back arches, body strung tight, hips moving against his palm without permission. I’m drenched, my skin electric, aching where he touches and where he doesn’t. And when he slips a finger between my folds, finding me soaked and ready, my breath catches on a broken moan.

I’ve never been so…needy. So shamelessly wanton.

“God, you’re perfect,” he groans gruffly. “I want to watch you come, just for me. I want to see what you look like when you’re falling apart.”

I’m trembling, caught between the unfamiliar and the undeniable, but I nod, heart hammering. “Y-yes. Please.”

He rewards me with a slow, knowing smile and a kiss to the inside of my thigh before returning to my mouth. Then he finds my clit again, stroking with just enough pressure to make my eyes roll back.

“Just like that,” he murmurs. “Let yourself feel it, sweetheart. There’s no one here but me.”

His voice is a low growl in my ear, his fingers confident, coaxing. Then he slips a single finger inside me, carefully, reverently, into a place no one else has ever touched.

My hips jerk and I cry out, not from pain but from the raw pressure, the fullness of the intrusion.

His hand stills. “You okay, baby?”

I nod frantically. “Yes. Please don’t stop.”

He begins to stroke me again, inside, outside, finding a rhythm that drives me toward the edge with every breath. My body sings for him, hips rolling in time with his hand, each flick of his thumb pushing me closer.

“You’re gonna come so hard for me,” he whispers against my neck. “That’s it. Let go.”

And I do.

The orgasm slams into me like a wave crashing over rock, stealing my breath, stealing all thought. I cry out, clenching around his finger, thighs trembling, nails biting into his back.

“I need to be inside you,” he growls, voice hoarse. “Need to feel you, Clover. All of you.”

He reaches for a condom from the drawer but I stop him, hand on his wrist.

“No,” I whisper, eyes locked on his. “I—I want to feel you.”

His brows dip slightly, his eyes searching my face. “Sweetheart…I could get you pregnant.”

A thrill passes through me at the thought, but I push the idea aside for now.

“I know,” I say, breathless but sure. “Just this once. Please.”

He hesitates, then groans, tossing the condom aside. “Jesus Christ, you’re so perfect for me. I’m gonna make you mine in every way—ruin you for anyone else, you understand?”

He lifts my leg around his waist, lines himself up, and watches me with burning eyes as he slowly pushes into me.

I tense, pain blooming sharp and bright as he meets a slight resistance, and then, with one gentle thrust, he enters me fully.

A sob escapes me and my eyes squeeze shut.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, kissing my face. “God, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I breathe. “It’s already better.”

He waits, barely moving, letting me adjust. Then he starts to move in slow, deep, careful thrusts that stretch me and fill me, stealing the breath from my lungs. The discomfort fades, replaced by the sweetest ache.

“You feel like heaven,” he growls. “So tight…so fucking good.”

I hold on to him, sliding my hands up his chest, slick with sweat. The way he’s moving, the way he looks at me…it’s too much, too real. My heart is racing, my body overwhelmed.

“Oh, Ghost,” I whisper, the words tumbling from my lips in a rush. “I can’t…oh my God!”

He groans like the words wreck him. “Clover…”

Then he loses rhythm, hips snapping harder, faster.

The sound of his body meeting mine, the slick friction, the intensity…

it pulls me under. My body coils, tightens, explodes.

I come with a cry, back arching, muscles gripping him, and he follows with a growl, pouring himself into me, shuddering through his release.

When it’s over, he cradles me to his chest, heart thundering against mine.

And in that quiet, breathless aftermath, it dawns on me…Jack Maddox has branded me.

I’ll never be the same.