Page 10 of Wild Night (Vicious Reapers MC #2)

CHAPTER NINE

POSEY

God .

His tattoos are sexy as shit, but as my fingers move down his chest, my breath hitches at the feel of his muscles beneath them.

That part is out of this world. I didn’t think muscles like this were real.

I just assumed they were photoshopped, or during those muscle competitions, it was a short-lived thing, and then they drank water or ate, and it all went away until the next time.

I’ve never been with someone like him before. He’s gorgeous, he’s dangerous—he’s wild.

“Do they all mean something?” I ask as my fingers continue to trace the black-lined tattoos.

I can’t look up at him. I’m too focused on his ink, on the way my fingers move across it. They’re not colorful pieces like I’ve seen on others. They’re black outlines, shadowed grays. They’re beautiful and full of depth.

My mouth waters to taste them—to taste him .

“Some of them mean something. Others were drunken nights, so they mean something different. And some don’t mean shit,” he says, the last word coming out on a grunt.

My lips twitch into a smirk. “Will you tell me what they mean?” I ask. “Even the ones that don’t mean anything?”

“One day.”

And that is that.

The discussion is over, and it’s mainly over because he catches my wrist, curling his fingers around it as he holds my hand still, keeping it from touching him any longer. I ache to touch him more, to feel his warm skin.

My fingers curl, and I flinch at the same time.

When he shifts his face forward, his lips brush mine again.

God , I love the way his mouth feels against mine.

I want them on every part of me. Then, before I can do or say anything, he shifts backward and glides my shirt over my body, tossing it somewhere on the floor and leaving me in my skirt and bra.

Something shifts between us, and it’s as if a rubber band has been snapped. No longer are there simple, sweet, exploratory touches. No longer are there soft eyes and gentle smiles. No, it’s feral and wild, just like last night.

And perfect.

It’s perfect.

My head falls backward as his mouth travels down my chest and between my breasts. His fingers unhook my bra at the same time and drag it down my arms. Then his lips wrap around my nipple, and he sucks.

Closing my eyes, I let out a whimper, my fingers gripping his biceps again, holding on to him as I press my thighs together in an attempt to ease the ache there.

When I push him away from me slightly, he releases my breast, his eyes widening as he looks at me, and that’s when I slowly sink to my knees.

“Posey,” he groans.

Reaching for his belt, I unbuckle it, slowly sliding his jeans down his legs, then curl my fingers around the backs of his thighs, gripping him there before I glide them up to his ass, my nails gently dragging his skin.

Ivy groans, his hands tangling in the back of my hair, his eyes on mine. Opening my mouth, I slide my tongue out, flattening it, and lick the entire underside of his length. His fingers flex in my hair, tugging on it slightly as I take him inside of me.

I take him as far down my throat as I can. Then I move. Forward and back, bobbing my head, looking up at him through my lashes, and absolutely loving the way he watches me. I think the way he’s looking at me is more of a turn-on than anything else.

I curl my fingers around the base of his length and start to jack him as I move back and forth. Saliva slides down my hand as I continue to suck him. Pulling all the way backward, I swirl my tongue around the head of his cock, moaning before I shift forward again.

Almost as if it happens as quickly for him as it does me, his fingers grip my hair even tighter as he tugs my head backward. His eyes search mine for a moment, then he clears his throat and gently pulls my hair upward, silently signaling me to stand.

I do just that, standing bare-breasted in my skirt, my shoes having been kicked off at some point, and my pussy aching, with saliva dripping down my face, my makeup without a doubt a complete disaster.

But the way he looks at me, the way Ivy’s gaze roams over my face, my body, then back to meet mine… “My turn.”

A thrill of desire slides up my spine, my belly clenches, and if I could magically make my skirt vanish and my body fly to the bed, I would right this second.

Nothing could stop me.

But since I can’t do that, when he releases his grasp on my hair, I shimmy my skirt and panties down as quickly as possible and practically leap onto the bed.

Ivy chuckles behind me. I would be embarrassed by my actions, but there’s something about Ivy, about us being alone together.

Granted, I don’t really know him, but I’m not embarrassed by anything that happens when we’re together, and I’m not shy, either, which is a stark contrast to my actual personality.

This man makes me feel so damn confident that it pours out of me. I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t want this to be fleeting. I want this to be real. I want it to last forever.

Inwardly, I scold myself for even thinking in those terms, especially since I’m technically married to someone I thought would be my forever.

And then there’s the little, very well-known fact that I pick the wrong men. I know I do. Yet here I am again, hoping this is real. When I know that he’s probably not someone I should be holding on to that hope for.

IVY

Fucking hell.

And I do mean that.

Fuck. Ing. Hell.

I’ve never had a blow job so fucking hesitant be so goddamn good in my life. I was seconds away from blowing my load down Posey’s throat. I had to fucking stop myself from doing that because I want to be inside of her cunt tonight, too. I want to be in and feel every part of her.

Once she’s on the bed and I’ve stripped out of the rest of my clothes, I walk toward her. My cock is hard and ready to be inside of her, but before I fuck her, I need to taste her sweet pussy.

She’s lying on the bed, her head resting on the pillows, her hair spread around her like a dark halo. Posey is absolutely stunning. I’ve been around and fucked beautiful women before, but there is something different about Posey.

Something special.

Grabbing the backs of her knees, I throw her legs over my shoulders and bury my face in her cunt to avoid thinking about her in any way other than carnally. I can’t fall for her. This needs to be about me luring her into confessing whatever it is she’s here for.

This needs to be about me finding out just who the fuck Lucian Whitmore is and how involved Posey really is. What she knows, what she doesn’t know, and if she’s a danger to Dakota, Bullet, or the club. And while I‘m doing that, I can get my dick wet—but I cannot fall for this woman.

Can fucking not.

As much as I want to. Anything more than extracting information is off-limits. Feelings don’t factor in what we’re doing. They can’t. Because if she’s trouble, if she’s going to cause a problem here, I’m going to be the one who is going to have to get rid of her—however that looks.

But right now, I’m going to eat her pussy.

Looking up at her, I watch as she writhes beneath me, her head moving back and forth on the pillow, her chest rising and falling as she arches her back and pushes her cunt closer to my mouth, searching for more.

More is what she’ll get.

Slipping two fingers inside of her, I curl them as my tongue, lips, and teeth focus on her clit. I feel her thighs shake beside my head, and I know she’s climbing higher and higher, closer toward the edge.

I want her to come on my tongue. I want to taste her. I want her to fall over the edge and scream my name. Her hips begin bucking, her moans turn to whimpers, and then I feel her pussy flutter around my fingers inside of her.

She’s right there—so close that she’s about to fall.

Keeping my eyes focused on her, I watch as her orgasm consumes her. Posey gasps, pushing up onto her elbows, her lips parted, her eyes wide, and her muscles completely clenched.

Fuck me.

She comes.

And it’s spectacular… in taste, sight, and feel.

I continue to focus on her clit, working her through the orgasm until her muscles relax and she falls back on the pillow with a groan.

I know that her clit is sensitive, but I’m not ready to quit yet.

Slowly, I lap at her as I slip my fingers from between her legs.

My balls are aching, begging for release. As much as I don’t want to move my mouth from her pussy, the taste of her being the best I’ve ever had, I force myself to. Moving up her body, gripping the backs of her knees again, I push her legs up to her ribs and spread her wide.

“Ivy,” she breathes.

I wonder what it would sound like if she said my real name. If she called out Justin instead of Ivy. As much as I wonder that, I don’t tell her my name or ask her to call me by it. That would add an extra level of intimacy that I’m trying hard like hell to avoid.

Aligning my dick with her center, I dip my chin and watch as I move in and out of her body. Amazing, breathtaking, absolutely fucking perfect. If love were on the table, I could fall in love with this woman just from being inside of her alone.

She feels that goddamn amazing.