"She is looking over my shoulder and bites the corner of her lower lip in thought. I want that fucking lip. I want to own it, bite it, lick it. It's mine. "
Vik has it all: power, women, looks. Man, he does have the looks! Enough to make women fl...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Lysa
The night breeze does nothing to cool me down as we ride back to the clubhouse. This was the single most exhilarating experience of my life and I thought I have had a few of those. It's almost silly to think that I knew what sex was before I have tried it with a Viking god on the back of a Harley. As the city lights come closer, I relive the whole thing and I rub against the leather seat, already wondering if Vik would be up for a second round back in his room.
Back the fuck up and hit on the brakes, I scream internally. Exactly since when I want to go for a second helping with a guy? Maybe since Vik made you come like a firecracker. I shake my head and tense. This is getting out of hand. I can't control myself around him and I like to be in control, thank you very much.
"Lys?" Vik squeezes his hand that's over mine.
It's annoying how in tune he is with my body. He reads me correctly, observing all the little hints my body gives away and acts on them. Every touch, every stroke all perfectly timed with my needs. OK, annoying is not the correct word. Frightening? Scary? Divine?
"Princess?" he demands.
Princess. He keeps calling me that and every time is as if his mouth is filled with sugar that pours out. Not "babe" or "baby" and I flinch because I know why. That's what he called every other girl that went through his bed. I doubt he ever bothered with remembering names or else there wouldn't be any room left in his brain for basic functions. Is this his way of showing me I am more? Damn it, Vik! Him calling me that, in the back of his bike, his hand wrapped in mine. That's the best I've felt in a while.
"I'm fine," I say finally.
Vik says nothing, just takes my hand and pulls it up his lips, kissing it lightly. OK, that is sweet. And I do not do sweet. I do sour. I do angry. I do that a lot. I do cold with extreme success. Distant is my favorite taste. But as Vik kisses each knuckle while cruising through the city, I think I could try sweet.
***
We turn around the corner and we are at the road the Riders practically own and I get nervous. It was the restaurant, the sea, the ride through the valley that had me confused. This is reality calling and it demands that I pick up. What the hell are we doing? This was not supposed to happen, not now, not ever. And what exactly is this? Vik is a whore and I am...well, me.
I am biting down a full-blown panic attack when Vik parks the bike on the same spot and I slide quickly off. I hand him the helmet and I stand my ground. I can't... I am not going in there with Vik, freshly-fucked with his scent on me and my release coated on him. I am not one of the bitches he fucks on daily basis. Aren't you? I am. I let him make me one more notch on his belt, just like Daniel said he would. Yeah, it was fucking amazing but it's over and now...Now, I don't want to be near him. Are you sure? I am not. I am not sure I can think straight right now.
