Page 31 of Victorious, Part 2 (The LA Defiance MC #6)

PHOENIX

Three days of stolen moments and interrupted touches, all of it comes rushing back as her hands find my hair and I pull her closer.

“God, I’ve missed this,” she breathes out against my lips, and the admission sends heat straight through me.

“Missed what?” I ask, even though I know.

I just want to hear her say it.

“This. You. The way you make me feel like I’m going to spontaneously combust.”

I laugh, low and rough. “That makes two of us.”

She shifts closer, and suddenly she’s straddling my lap, laptop forgotten somewhere behind us. The new position makes everything more intense, more real. Her thighs brace my hips, and when she rocks forward slightly, we both groan.

“Clover…”

“Don’t,” she says, her voice firm despite the breathlessness. “Don’t overthink this, Phoenix. We’ve been dancing around it for three days. Getting ourselves off rather than each other. We’re here, we’re safe, we’re together. That’s all that matters right now.”

She’s right.

The distance from LA, from the immediate threat, from everyone’s expectations, it’s giving us something we’ve never had before.

Freedom.

The freedom to explore whatever this is between us without worrying about who’s watching or what it means for the club.

“You’re sure?” I ask because I need to hear it.

I need to know she’s choosing this, choosing me, with full awareness of what it means.

“I’m sure about a lot of things,” she says, echoing her words from earlier. “I’m sure I want you. I’m sure I’m tired of pretending I don’t. And I’m sure that if you keep looking at me like that without doing something about it, I’m going to lose my damn mind.”

The air shifts. It’s thick, sultry, humming with the promise of everything we’ve been holding back.

That’s all the permission I need.

I crash my lips to hers, kissing her as if I’m starving and she’s the only thing that’s ever tasted right.

My hands are greedy, gripping her waist, her hips, sliding up under her tank to feel the soft warmth of her skin.

She moans against my mouth, her hips shifting to grind against me and fuck, I’m already aching again.

I yank her top over her head, breaking the kiss for just a moment as she lifts her arms to help. She’s bare underneath, and the moment I see her, I forget how to breathe. Her breasts rise and fall with her uneven breaths, her nipples taut peaks begging for attention.

“Jesus,” I murmur, brushing a knuckle down the luscious curve. “You’re beautiful.”

She blushes, ducking her head for a second, and it damn near kills me. “Your turn,” she says, tugging my shirt.

I strip it off, and her eyes roam over my chest, her fingers following slowly. Each brush of her touch leaves fire in its wake, but when she traces the ink over my ribs, my brother’s birthday, I still.

“I love this,” she whispers. Then she leans in and presses her lips to the ink, soft and reverent, like she knows exactly what it means. It’s not just hot, it’s intimate in a way that roots something deep in my chest.

I bury my hands in her hair, wanting more, needing her closer, but then she pulls back, her eyes devilish with lust.

“I want to try something.” She grins.

“What did you have in mind?”

She slides down my body, kneeling between my legs. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing, just this bold, beautiful woman deciding to ruin me in the best possible way.

Her fingers work my belt, eyes locked on mine.

“Clover…” I warn.

“I want to,” she interrupts. “I’ve been thinking about this. About you. About how you’d taste. Ever since that first night in the desert.”

Jesus.

My jeans hit the floor, and I’m already throbbing by the time she takes me in her small hand.

“Tell me what you like,” she asks softly. “I want to make this good for you.”

That vulnerability, that want, strips me bare. “You’re already doing it,” I say, voice hoarse. “You’re making it perfect.”

She kisses my tip first, slow and deliberate, as though she’s savoring the moment. Then her mouth opens, warm and wet, and wraps around me, and I swear to God I see the heavens split. My head falls back, a curse slipping from my lips. “Fuck.”

She starts slow. Gentle licks, teasing strokes with her tongue along the underside, learning every reaction she pulls from me. Her hand grips my thigh for balance as her other wraps around the base, syncing with the steady rhythm of her mouth.

“That’s it, baby,” I breathe, eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck, just like that.”

She hums softly in response, and the vibration makes my hips jerk.

When she starts to get bolder, taking me deeper, faster, I nearly lose it.

Every suck, every swirl of her tongue, ratchets the pressure higher.

It’s not just physical, it’s emotional, the way she’s giving this to me, how present she is in it, like she wants to unravel me.

Fuck, she is unraveling me!

“Clover… I’m close,” I grit out. “You might wanna—”

But she doesn’t pull away. Instead, her hand slides lower, cupping my balls while her tongue swirls around the head with practiced confidence.

She looks up through her lashes, and I’m fucking gone.

My balls pull up, my body shuddering as the surge rushes through me.

My hand rushes to her hair, and I can’t help myself as I grip tight, forcing her down onto my cock harder.

A small choking sound echoes up from her, but she continues to pump up and down on me, her eyes locked on mine, a small line of saliva dripping from the side of her mouth, before my breathing hitches.

A low groan escapes me as my orgasm crashes through me like a goddamn freight train.

“Shit… Clover… fuck!” My body tenses, thighs trembling, muscles locking as I come hard in her mouth, and she swallows every drop without flinching. I pant hard, trying to come down from my high, my hips instantly sinking back down onto the bed, after coming twice within the last half hour.

She kisses the side of my hip when she’s done, eyes smug, her lips swollen and slick.

“Where the hell did you learn to do that?” I pant, still trying to remember how to speak.

She smirks. “YouTube is very educational.”

I groan, dragging her up to lie beside me, kissing her forehead. “Remind me to send YouTube a damn medal.”

“That good, huh?” Her eyes light up, and I can see she’s proud of herself.

“That. Fucking. Good.” I tip her chin up and brush my lips across hers. “But, now it’s my turn to return the favor.”

She blushes again. “Phoenix, you don’t have to—”

“Oh, I absolutely do. I need to taste you, Clover, or I might actually die.” I roll us until she’s flat on her back. “Fair’s fair. And I’ve been dreaming about this.”

She giggles, the sound breathless and laced with anticipation. I don’t rush. I want to memorize every sound, every sigh, every shiver.

I start at her mouth, lingering there like I’m sealing a vow.

Then I kiss my way down her neck, the hollow of her throat, the soft dip between her breasts.

I suck one nipple into my mouth, swirl my tongue around until she gasps, then move to the other, teasing and pulling until her hips start shifting beneath me, restless and aching.

Her hands slide into my hair. “You’re killing me.”

I chuckle against her skin. “Not even close. But I plan to.” When I reach the waistband of her shorts, I glance up. “Still sure?”

Her voice is already wrecked. “God, yes. Don’t you dare stop.”

I pull them down slow, dragging her panties with them, baring her inch by inch until she’s laid out before me like a goddamn miracle. My eyes devour her. She’s flushed, slick, legs falling open for me without hesitation.

I kiss the inside of her thigh first, letting my three-day stubble scrape her skin just enough to make her twitch. Then I kiss the other side while her fingers fist the sheets. Darting my tongue out, I finally taste her.

“Fuck me…” I mutter into her heat, her flavor hitting my tongue similar to a shot of adrenaline.

I flatten my tongue and drag it slowly through her folds, relishing every slick detail. She moans, long and low, her back arching off the bed. I close my mouth around her clit, suck gently, and she jerks as if she’s been shocked.

Her hands fly to my head, anchoring herself. Her thighs are trembling around my shoulders. “Phoenix, oh God…” Her voice is already unraveling.

I add a finger, curling it just right. Then a second. I pump them in time with the flick of my tongue, circling her clit faster, harder, switching pressure when I feel her getting close.

Her whole body is tightening, building. She’s writhing, grinding up into my face, chasing that high like her life depends on it. “Right there, don’t stop, don’t stop, please, Phoenix.” She gasps, her voice shaking, her legs clamping tight around my head like she’s losing control.

I slide one hand up her belly, pressing it gently just below her navel, feeling every ripple of tension gather like a storm about to break.

“Let go, baby,” I growl, voice rough against her. “Let me have it.”

And she does.

Her entire body locks up, a strangled scream tearing from her throat. Her thighs snap around me, back arched almost completely off the bed, mouth falling open in a silent cry before a shattered moan of my name finally breaks free . “Wes!”

It’s not just an orgasm.

It’s a goddamn detonation.

Her body convulses around my fingers, wave after wave crashing through her as I keep licking, keep driving her through every ounce of it. Her hips jerk helplessly, her nails dig into my scalp, and her breath stutters while her climax rages on and on, wringing every last drop of sensation from her.

She doesn’t come down gently.

She falls, limp, trembling, and breathless.

When I finally pull away, her skin is sheened with sweat. Her lips part, cheeks flushed, hair tangled across the pillow as if she’s been wrecked in the best possible way.

I kiss my way up her body, taking my time, and when I reach her face, I press a soft kiss to her lips.

“That was…” she tries, but her words fail.