Page 25 of The Biker’s Second Chance (Chrome Creed MC #2)
THE CALM BEFORE
JAYNE
S pike doesn’t say a word as he drags me down the hall. His hand is rough around mine, his jaw clenched tight, his steps sharp and angry against the wood floor. The energy rolling off him is lethal, like he is one wrong word away from exploding.
I want to ask what Xavier said, but I bite it back. I know Spike well enough to see it in his eyes. Xavier got under his skin. Deep.
The door to his room slams behind us. For a moment we just stand there, the sound of muffled talking from the clubhouse fading into the background. Spike’s chest is heaving, his fists flexing open and shut at his sides.
“I hate that son of a bitch,” he mutters, voice ragged. “Hate the way he says your name. Like he’s got any right.”
I step closer, sliding my hands along his forearms until his fists loosen. “He’s a bully,” I whisper. “And bullies are nothing without fear. I won’t give him mine.”
His gaze finally drops to me, softer now, but still burning. “You shouldn’t have to be strong about this. That’s my job.”
“Spike…” I rise on my toes, brushing my lips against his jaw, tasting salt and whiskey. “You’ve always been my safe place. I’m not scared when I’m with you.”
Spike stiffens for a second as if he's unsure about what he wants to do but it only lasts a second. His hand curls into my hair and he kisses me like it is the only thing keeping him down to the earth. Hard. Desperate. Claiming. I melt into him, every inch of my body aching for him.
The world outside doesn’t matter when his mouth is on mine. Not Xavier. Not the danger. Nothing.
"I need you, need to feel you safe." he moans as he takes a big step forward pushing me toward the bed.
By the time he lays me down on the bed, I’m already out of my mind with need.
It's always been like this with us. No matter what is going on in the world, when we are together it all melts away.
His weight settles over me, heavy and grounding, and when his hands slide under my shirt I arch into him, craving more.
“God, Jaynie,” he groans, his lips tracing fire along my neck. “You drive me out of my fucking mind.”
“Then let me,” I whisper, tugging at his belt.
Within seconds, clothes scatter to the floor.
His skin is hot against mine, his touch rough but safe.
His hands trace the slope of my waist, the curve of my hips, the dip of my thighs, as if relearning me after years apart.
When he sinks inside me, I gasp in pleasure.
I've had him many times but every time my body has to adjust to his size.
I cry out his name, nails biting into his shoulders. The stretch is sharp but perfect, filling me so completely I feel the breath ripped from my lungs.
He stills for a second, his forehead pressed to mine, his eyes burning into me. “You’re mine,” he rasps, his hips beginning to move. “Always mine.”
“Yes,” I moan, my body clenching tight around him. “Always.”
His thrusts are steady at first until he starts to pound into me harder and harder. I wrap my legs around his waist so I can hold on. With every movement of his hips the tip of his cock brushes against that spot deep within me that has my toes curling. Fucking perfection.
The room fills with the sound of our breathing, the creak of the bed, his groans mixing with my cries.
Each thrust is deep, deliberate, sending sparks down my spine.
My body reacts to his instinctively, meeting him stroke for stroke.
His pace builds, harder, stronger, until I can barely hold myself together.
His mouth finds mine again, tongues tangling, teeth scraping.
He tastes like whiskey and need, and I drink him in greedily.
When his hand slides between us and his thumb presses against my clit, I shatter.
Pleasure rips through me in a violent wave and I cling to him, my body convulsing around his cock.
“Jaynie,” he groans, his hips slamming harder, deeper. “Come for me, baby. I need to feel you.”
I scream his name, my voice breaking, as my orgasm tears me apart. He follows right after, driving into me one last time before spilling inside me, his groan muffled against my neck as he collapses into me.
For a long moment we just stay tangled, skin slick with sweat, breaths uneven. His forehead rests against mine, his eyes searching me like I’m the answer to everything.
I press a shaky kiss to his mouth, then whisper the thought that’s been gnawing at me. “Spike… we haven’t been careful."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He questions me, clearly not understanding what I'm trying to say to him.
"It means, we haven't been using condoms and I'm still a woman. What if you knock me up?”
He blinks a few times before he slowly pulls out of me and shimmies down between my legs, I feel his fingers swiping at the cum that is still dribbling out of me.
He picks some up with two of his fingers and then to my surprise he slides his fingers back inside of me.
Pushing his come deeper inside of me while massaging my G spot.
He slides up and stares deep into my eyes. His eyes change, darken with something fierce. Not fear. Not hesitation. Something hotter. Deeper. “Good,” he growls. “Fuck, Jaynie, I want that. I want you carrying me. Carrying us.”
My heart pounds so hard I swear he can feel it. Tears sting my eyes but it’s not fear this time. It’s peace. Pure and unshakable peace.
For the first time in years, I feel like I belong. Not just with him, but here. In this clubhouse. With this family.
Spike pulls me tight against his chest, his lips brushing the top of my head. “Let the storm come,” he murmurs. “As long as I’ve got you, we’ll face it together.”
I close my eyes, listening to the steady thump of his heart, and let myself believe him. For tonight, at least, I can breathe.
The question that lingers at the edge of my mind doesn’t dare leave my lips.
Will we survive when the storm finally hits?