Page 6 of Live Love Steal (Destroyers MC: Skilletsville PA #2)

Find me when you’re done - Sketch

H oly shit, I was in trouble. Isobel sashayed away, and I couldn’t help but watch her ass swing back and forth until she shut the door, breaking the spell she’d put me under. I shook my head and looked at the hard-on bulging my pants outward.

“ What the fuck are you doing, asshole?” Ever since losing custody of my son, I tried not to let my dick rule me. Hell , that was my biggest flaw. I had a kid, one I hardly ever saw, and a bitch of an ex.

All because of that dumbass appendage between my legs.

It didn’t care that I might bring the whole club down if I got found out to be the lying thief who ordered Isobel’s plate stolen.

It certainly didn’t care that her father was six-foot-one and had been wielding hammers and blow torches for a good ten years before I was born.

And it didn’t certainly didn’t care that seven hours from now the club had a drop scheduled, using the clone to Isobel’s car with Isobel’s plate, in one of the worst neighborhoods of Harrisburg you could imagine.

“ I need my head examined.” Both of them.

I cranked away, replacing Isobel’s steering column frame with the parts I’d waited seven weeks to get.

We’d snagged a stolen Kia , the same model and color as Isobel’s , but didn’t register it.

That would be stupid. Four weeks ago, the club’s prospect snagged her front plate.

We all called him Whoosh because shit went over his head so often we were afraid the resulting windblast from the vortex would tear it off.

We’d been using the car for discreet drops. Tonight would be one of the last for it. I amended that timeline. It would be the very last one. Now that I’d met the owner, I couldn’t keep fucking her like that.

But fucking her in another way?

“ Asshole ,” I muttered again. The trouble was, I wasn’t talking to my dick this time.

Because , sue me, she was hot…and my type…

and knew a bit about cars, which was a hell of a plus in my book.

My ex knew jack squat about them, expecting me to step in every time she forgot to change her oil for a fucking year.

I was tired of fixing her shit for nothing.

Her move to Delaware couldn’t come soon enough.

As long as my son, my light, my life, stayed right the fuck here.

Which reminded me, I had to talk to Sprout about building permits. We’d drawn up the plans for the rooftop addition. He was helping me handle the paperwork. If the city approved it, I could finish building. I tore a hole in the roof before realizing I’d need to do everything on the up and up.

Of course, I put the whole thing on pause as soon as that bitch announced her Delaware move, because without Noah , it wouldn’t even be necessary. Which meant I had one more day of uncertainty. I could hang on… I could.

I cranked a little too hard, and my hand slipped, dinging my knuckles on a protruding edge.

I cursed and sucked on the injury to stop the sting.

No blood. I could stop being a weak-ass and keep going.

The sooner I got this done, the sooner I could resolve the debate between my dick and my conscience.

I’d hand off the keys. Maybe make a date for sometime in the future… after ditching the twin to her car. It would all be in the past, and my sins wouldn’t haunt me. Then , I’d explore every inch of her. Every fucking inch.

That sounded like a brilliant plan.

But like all plans, I didn’t count on one thing.

Isobel had other plans.

I set her keys on the kitchen counter, searching the spaces and corners of my house for her. I could have called out, but already knew where she was.

Her shirt was on the floor. Strategically dropped right where I’d see it as I walked out of my work bay. A shoe sat on a barstool. Its mate pointed toward my bedroom.

Her skirt lay in front of it.

A bra dangled from the hook where I usually hung my coat.

While that was sexy as all hell, I had a moment of panic.

My coat, with the Destroyers ’ patches, was sacred.

But she’d hung it over the back of a chair.

Nothing touched the ground. Thank God . I’d have to warn her about touching it.

No one did that. Not unless they were an ol’ lady.

Even then, most of the women paired with a biker like me wouldn’t think of moving their man’s leather.

Her panties taunted me from the arch between my living space and the bedroom. They were black satin, just like the bra she’d hung up.

Black . Satin .

I could forgive her for touching my coat, right? I mean… black satin made up for a lot of things.

I peeked around the post that made up half the arch’s frame.

Isobel sprawled on the bed, lying on her stomach. Her perfect ass was slightly raised in the air.

One finger slid around her hole. Her head was turned to face the mural I’d painted over the far wall. It was a naked woman.

My gaze bounced between the pose of her on my sheets and the multi-colored vision I’d painted on the wall.

I had a type. Black hair, pale skin… red lips. Definitely a type. “ You got started without me.”

She twisted my direction, a guilty expression on her face. “ I … couldn’t help myself?”

Her brown eyes flashed. Then , she rolled to her back while continuing to finger herself.

In the new position, her other hand was free. She used it to pinch her nipples. “ Are you going to watch?”

I took a step forward and paused. Our earlier conversation flashed through my thoughts. “ Anything you want.” If she wanted me to watch, I’d watch.

But hell, I wanted to join her. I wanted my tongue up that pussy. I wanted my dick deep inside her. I wanted to splay her against my painted lady and fuck her from behind.

Isobel licked her lips. “ Stand at the end of the bed.”

As she spoke, she spread her legs wide.

I had a direct view of her pussy and technique.

I used the time not touching her to pull off my shirt.

Then , I unbuckled my belt. I pulled out the sealed condom I carried with me and set it on the bed by her left foot, going as far as to brush the wrapper against the arch.

That made her squirm, and her toes curled for a moment.

I slid my pants and boxers off to free my dick and held it in my right hand.

Her eyes widened. A smile crept across her face. The finger in her pussy got replaced by two as she pumped harder.

“ Are you going to cum?”

Her throat worked as she swallowed. “ I might.”

That would be pretty. I told her as much.

“ No , it would be… lonely.” Her actions stopped. Very slowly, she removed both fingers, now coated with her juices.

I picked up the condom and tore open the package.

“ We can’t have lonely. That sucks.” I rolled it on, giving my shaft a long stroke that almost made me groan.

She’d worked me up to this point without even touching me.

I marveled at her ingenuity and relished the smooth skin of her leg as I slowly worked my way onto the mattress.

She deserved to be worshipped.

I kissed her thigh, letting my wet lips trail along the skin as I crawled closer. I hovered over her mound, smelling the sensuous fragrance of her arousal clinging to her damp skin and fingers. “ Talk to me. What do you want?” I exhaled warm air across her mound.

“ Oh … that , no… lick me.”

Fuck yeah! Outwardly , I gave no sign that her words were cause for celebration. I hovered, mouth open, and locked eyes with her. As soon as I was sure I had her attention, I extended my tongue to reveal the piercing I had there.

Her mouth rounded into an “ O .”

I pressed the flat pad against her pussy and dragged the barbell through her folds until it hit her clit. Then I pressed harder.

Isobel arched off the bed, and her fingers dug into my hair.

Her fancy manicure poked against my scalp, giving me just a twinge of pain.

Which was how I loved it. Next time, I’d tell her to pull my hair, maybe even show her how hard I wanted it done.

But this time, I took time to teach her all the ways I could please her with my mouth.

I dipped the tip of my tongue into her pussy. She moaned. I pushed in harder, the metal angling and dragging as it cleared the rim and rolled against her walls.

“ Oh , fuck. Please !” She was making mindless sounds, some of them not even words. I kept up my tricks, rolling the metal around the edges, dipping in, going as deep as I could, and pulling back out.

Her fingers locked in my hair, sending that biting edge of danger right to my balls. I shouldered her thighs into the air so I could push against the mattress with my cock. If I weren’t careful, I’d push myself right over the edge. But I squeezed those thoughts out and worked her pussy hard.

She spasmed, almost dislodging my mouth. I dove back in and fucked her with my tongue. She screamed, and the tremors of her orgasm shocked through her body and into the tight little pulses of her opening. Her sweet juice coated my face and tongue.

Slowly , the aftershocks subsided, and the tension in her legs eased. I sucked in air and licked her clit. She jolted, shying away from my mouth.

“ You …” she panted.

“ Me ?” I licked my lips to taste the pussy I’d abandoned.

“ Dick . Now . Please ?”

Anything to please mi’lady. I caged her as I hovered over her splayed form. “ Now ?”

“ Sketch ! Please ?” She grabbed my hips, trying to force me into place. But I resisted. My hard cock bobbed between us.

“ Magic word.”

Isobel looked at me in confusion. “ I said, please.”

I grinned. “ You didn’t say, fuck me… please?”

Her face told me her thoughts. The first one was shock, the second and third ones? Defiance . I half expected her to tell me no.

In a voice so husky and sexy I had trouble remembering my name, she spoke slowly. “ Fuck . Me . Please .”

Oh , I was happy to oblige. I slid the tip of my cock around, finding the right spot to notch. Then held there, not in, but definitely not out. And waited.

“ Sketch ? Fuck me, please?”

I slid in about an inch. Silently , I dared her to defy me.

“ Fuck me.”

My eyebrow went up.

“ Please .” She arched, and I slid in more.

But my dick wasn’t completely in. I even pulled out a little, tormenting her for the initiative. “ One more time,” I whispered.

“ Sketch , you’d better fuck me now, or I’ll? —”

I rammed in, going deep. Her words strangled off into a moan of pleasure.

I hung there, holding my shit tight and waiting for her to catch up.

Once she did, I slid out; then in again.

Her hips matched my rhythm, and we fit, over and over again.

I couldn’t remember a time when I’d had a woman so perfectly tuned to me in my bed.

But with that thought, guilt and panic set in.

I pumped harder, losing her with my frantic need to forget who I was, what I did, how this was all a lie.

She gasped, and the walls of her pussy clamped down.

I lost the plot. Giving in to the mindlessness of being inside her.

I wasn’t thinking about anything at all, and it was glorious.

Especially the way my dick pulsed as I came hard .

The soft body in my arms fit perfectly. I fit perfectly.

It was beautiful. Better than any vision, better than any dream of an imagined lady.

Somewhere in that moment, I glanced to my right.

The mural I’d painted watched us. The woman I’d created smirked down at my foolishness.

And I wasn’t sorry. I’d never be sorry for this.

Because that woman I’d dreamed about so many months ago?

She was real. Right here in my bed. I’d captured her, finally.

And I wasn’t planning on giving her up anytime soon.

I kissed Isobel’s lips. They were just as soft as I imagined. Her eyes fluttered open, and she seemed surprised, but then she smiled. I kissed her again for that, then put a slight amount of distance between us so I could watch her expression for clues. Because she wasn’t talking. Had I fucked up?

“ Where’d you grow up?” she asked.

Ah . Right . This part was called getting the deets . We’d skipped a lot of that. “ Right here, mostly. I bounced between my parents’ houses here and in Harrisburg .”

“ Did you go to school here or there?”

“ There . What about you?”

“ Here , for both.”

I figured as much. She had an air about her.

One that screamed “well-adjusted” despite the edginess she dolled herself up with.

I caressed down her arm so I could pick it up by the wrist, kiss her palm, then get a better look at her ink.

It was the only place she had a tattoo. And I’d licked enough of it to know she had a pristine canvas except two lines and a tiny circle.

It looked like a symbol I’d seen somewhere. “ What’s this?”

“ It’s an alchemy symbol for iron. I got it when I turned twenty-one.” She turned her arm so she could look at it. “ Dad’s always working on cars. His father worked in a smelting factory. Before him, my family were miners. I got it to remind me of my roots.”

A shadow crossed her face. The little space between her eyebrows scrunched, and I knew in my gut that wasn’t the only reason she got tattooed.

“ You’re iron?”

Her eyes locked on mine. There was a small amount of fear in them. She quickly smiled to cover it up. “ I am.” The corners of her mouth fell.

That bothered me. I kissed her again, then smacked my lips. “ Tastes like rust,” I joked.

She pushed at me and jostled me.

I wrestled her until she was on top of me. She looked down at me with a question on her face. But instead of asking, she said, “ I’m glad I played hooky from work today.”

It sounded final. She started to lift off me, and I trapped her, rolling us back to the previous position.

“ Babe . We’re not done yet.” I had at least four hours to kill.