Page 32 of Property of Stone (Kings of Anarchy MC: Pennsylvania #1)

He needed to pull out all the stops and get her to come soon.

Jamming his hand between him, he pinched her clit hard. But when she bucked against him, she had no idea how dangerous that was.

For fuck’s sake, he was trying to get her to come, not lose his own shit.

Needing another distraction, he once again sank his teeth into her tit, not as gently this time, then dragged his tongue over the mark left behind.

She didn’t tell him to stop. Fuck no . Her pussy squeezed him even tighter. He slipped that in his sexual toolbox for next time.

But that move didn’t distract him, it only made him teeter dangerously.

Planting his knees deeper into the mattress, he began to piston his hips and power up and into her until he couldn’t drive himself any deeper into her molten heat. She took everything he gave her and gave it back to him, thrust for fucking thrust.

Spearing herself on his cock.

Grinding against him.

Driving him out of his fucking mind.

Her sharp gasp turned into a low moan. And he had to clench his teeth as her core rippled around him. Since he was already standing dangerously to the edge, she was about to knock his ass over.

Hold out. Just a little damn longer. She’s almost there.

Thank fuck he was right.

With a low wail, she tensed and exploded around him. Not only could he feel the wave after wave of her orgasm trying to sabotage him, but he swore she gushed all over him. This was one damn time he wished he hadn’t worn a wrap.

When her climax faded away, she sank bonelessly into the mattress.

Soft. Pliant. Satisfied.

Fuck yeah.

It was go time.

Unfortunately, “go” only meant three more pumps before his balls screamed, “Enough!” With one last tilt of his hips, he sank himself to the root, closed his eyes and shot his load with a groaned, “Fuck.”

She continued to cling to him as he waited for reality to return.

He met her eyes as soon as he opened his. “You good?”

Goddamn! Was he a victim of body snatchers? When the fuck had he ever asked that?

The corners of her lips curled up slightly. “Do you really need me to answer that?”

Fuck no he didn’t, but it didn’t hurt to ask. Especially since, for once in his life, he was trying to make an impression.

If not body snatchers, it had to be old age creeping up on him.

With another groan, he rolled off her and flopped onto his back, his lungs still starved for oxygen and his heart still trying to knock a hole in his chest. But at least his empty balls were happy as shit.

Hell, so was he.

Of course she’d want to share his bed with him now. By nailing her as good as he did, he nailed this “interview.”

He slipped off the wrap, careful not to spill it all over the damn bed, tied it off, and set it aside.

“I’ve never done that before,” she whispered up to the ceiling.

He tucked an arm under his head and turned it just enough to let his eyes trace her profile.

“Came the last time we fucked.” No way did she fake any of her orgasms. He was a damn pro at telling the difference. Sometimes he cared, most times he didn’t give a shit.

But tonight wasn’t most times.

“No, not that. That rush of fluid.”

Well, damn. One side of his mouth pulled up. “Yeah, woman, I made you squirt.”

She turned her own head to give him wide blue eyes. “Really? I thought that was a myth.”

“Ain’t no myth. Most men don’t know how to make a woman do it.” Obviously, Vic the Dick never got the job done. But the fuck if he was asking her if that was true and unintentionally inviting that fucker to join them in this bed.

“And you do?”

He tried not to grin like a cocky asshole. It was a struggle. “Just proved it, didn’t I?”

She stretched with a groan. “I think I might need to see if it happens again. It could’ve been a fluke.”

She might be fucking with him, but what she said sounded damn good to his ears. Not the fluke part but the again part.

They could disprove that myth as much as she wanted. Even again tonight.

“Takin’ that as you invitin’ me to stay? Or are you banishin’ me back to the couch?”

When she stared at him, he could see the wheels turning. She wanted him—what just happened proved that—but he could also see her worried about getting too deeply involved in what he represented.

She didn’t want to be tied to a motorcycle club, whether for business or personal reasons.

He got it. That life wasn’t for everyone.

Only, she might not realize it was too late. Her life was now entwined with his. She was living in his house. Helping with his kid. She’ll be running a big chunk of her business from The Castle.

Whether she liked it or not, she was under his protection and that also meant the club’s. And the Kings only protected what belonged to them.

But fuck if he was telling her that. That was a discussion for another day. If they had to have it at all.

It took way too fucking long for her to finally answer, even though it should’ve been a simple yes. “I don’t want the kids seeing us sleeping in the same bed.”

For fuck’s sake.

That didn’t go as planned.

Sunny wouldn’t give a shit they were in the same bed. She was already having a tantrum about Taryn living with them, where he “slept” wasn’t going to change that. At ten going on ten- acious, she thought she could be left home alone.

Fuck that.

Stone was not only worried about what trouble Sunny would get into being by herself, but with him being a part of the Kings, other dangers existed.

Maybe not direct threats like a rival MC—they hadn’t dealt with anything like that in a while, for good reason—but it only took one pissed off Porsche owner to find out it was the Kings who pinched his overpriced sports car, or someone they roughed up while doing a collection, to come looking for revenge.

Danger always lurked around the next corner.

Snagging one of the Kings’ kids—or even an ol’ lady—would be a quick way to bring the club to its knees. At least temporarily. Because once they could rise again, those motherfuckers would regret it.

Because nobody fucked with the Kings.

Taryn’s worry didn’t center around threats. She was probably worried that if Sunny found out her father was sleeping with a woman she wasn’t happy with, then his girl’s attitude would only get worse.

She most likely also thought it would be a bad example for Wren.

Truth was, Stone simply living his life—who he was, what he did and how he did it—was more of a bad example than the two of them sharing a damn bed.

He would need to put in more work on assuring her that if the only roadblock to him joining her every night was the kids, that could be easily overcome.

“Gonna give you that now. But promise it’s gonna change. If we gotta have a conversation with the kids, we have a conversation with the kids. Sunny ain’t gonna give a shit so that leaves dealin’ with Baby Bird.”

Taryn sighed and rubbed a hand over her eyes. “It’s late, Stone. Now is not the time to make a decision like this.”

“Like I said, gonna give you that for now. But tellin’ you, I ain’t sleepin’ too much longer on that fuckin’ couch.”

“I offered to take the bunk beds with Wren. We can still do that and then you can have your bed back.”

It wasn’t only about where he was sleeping. “Would rather share my bed with you than Sunny. Don’t gotta tell you why.”

With that, he rolled off the bed and onto his feet. After snagging his boxers from the floor, he didn’t bother to pull them on since he still needed to clean up. He’d do that downstairs and then try to get in a few ZZZ ’s before the kids got up.

Tomorrow, he’d come up with a way to tell them.