Biker Chick Campout (Rebel Wayfarers MC) (6 page)

Again taking the arch of her neck as an
invitation
, he trailed hard, hot kisses along
the column of her throat, working her skin with teeth and tongue.
On the sweet downward glide from the orgasm, her arms
curved around his back to hold him tightly when with a ripple of
power under her palms, he began to move with purpose. Muscled
thighs working between her legs, he fucked her with passion and
finesse. The air in the van became heated, close, sweat collecting
on their skin until she felt his belly slipping and sliding across
hers, his arms pressing into the mattress.

Shifting, he moved and found a different
angle and approach that caused her to suck in a hard breath because
it was
so
good.
Dios
. She drove up against him,
tipping her
hips,
and he plunged deeper.

“Fuck, honey.”

Fingers plucking at her
nipples, Hurley’s back bowed as one palm lifted a breast to his
mouth. He sucked, drawing hard while his hand stroked across her
skin. More sensation to overwhelm her, hard teeth and smooth lips
nibbling along her jaw. It was as if he were everywhere at once,
and she recognized that familiar tension low in her belly with some
surprise.
“Hurley,” she breathed, bucking up against him
again, driving him deeper, “nearly there.”

“Fuck, honey, you comin’ again?” There was
an honest, pleased
note of pride in his
voice,
and she laughed softly, pulling a gasp
from him. “
God
. Do that again, gorgeous. Laugh for me.” When
she did, mouth to the skin of his shoulder, he groaned, the sound
so ragged she realized he was losing grip on his control, hips
plunging, now wildly chasing his own needs. The knowledge that she
could bring this
beautiful
man here, give him
this, draw this kind of passion from him was enough to drag her
even closer.

Sounds of their bodies slapping together
echoed and she heard the van’s suspension creak and groan,
mechanical singing nearly drowning out the noises flowing from her
mouth.
His mouth on her breast, teeth grazing across
her nipple, hard cock deep inside her—everything conspiring to push
her over and up and she was flying again. Muscles convulsing, she
felt her body stiffen underneath his, anchoring herself with arms
wrapped around his shoulders, tensing and clenching around him
everywhere they touched.

Skin-covered muscles too
addictive a draw, her mouth found the corded side of his neck,
muffling her quiet cries and leaving a mark with a sucking kiss as
he groaned, thrusting far inside her and holding there, his body
bucking with release and pleasure.
Pressing deep, and then
withdrawing slightly before crashing
into
her
again, hard and relentless. He ground out her name with a voice
scraped raw, arms tightening around her as he came.

They rested like that for several minutes
before moving. Then slowly, as if
he
were
returning to life, Hurley’s hands stroked down her sides, then up,
and down again. Mela’s arms curved around his back, palms pressed
against his heated skin. Her thighs cradled his hips as their
breath slowed and eased.

“
Damn, baby.” The muttered
words were gentle, pleased, signaling satisfaction. He shifted away
and as he pulled out she barely clamped her lips shut in time to
stop the complaining noise she wanted to make. Wanted to give voice
to the sorrow at losing the gratification of having him inside her,
the intimate sense of connection she felt.
A movement
between them that she belatedly recognized as him ensuring a condom
stayed in place. She realized she hadn’t even worried about
protection, hadn’t asked him anything before opening her body to
him.
Dios,
soy
loco
.

He stretched out beside her, hands gliding
across her body for long minutes, each touch slow and lingering,
relaxing her. Mapping her flesh with fingertips, she wanted the
memory of his caress permanently impressed on her skin.

Hurley hummed deep in his chest, one hand
curling around her waist as he tugged her closer. “You need to go
to your tent, or can you stay with me?”

Shit
.

That single question told her he was back in
the prospect headspace. He would now be nervously considering the
politics of what they had just done; no longer caught up in the
moment of shared passion and craving. His question seemed to imply
it would be better for her to disappear. Leave him to sleep and
wake alone, granting him plausible deniability if there were
harsh
questions about fucking the Machos’
princess.
Always the same
. Everything was always about the
club, which is why she never slept with members.

Fuck
, she fumed.
What was I
thinking?
Aloud, hiding the wound he’d opened with his
rejection, she quietly said, “I never got my tent
set
up
, but I can sleep in my bag, it’s no big deal.” Glad for
the sheltering darkness, she tried to still her trembling lips as
she sat up, groping for her clothing, looking for a way to escape
gracefully.

His hands found hers, bringing her search to
a halt as he said, “No, honey. Stop thinking so hard. I ain’t
kicking you out. I want you to sleep here, with me, but I don’t
want you to be embarrassed in the morning.” Lifting her gaze, she
saw the shadows shift as he tilted his head, his hair falling to
one side as he asked, “Sleep with me, honey?”

He twisted to lie
down,
and his hold on her hands pulled her with him, taking them both
back down to the mattress. With a relieved
sigh,
she rested against his side.
He wants me to
stay
. “Let me be your pillow,” he said, reaching to lift her
head and slide his arm underneath it, pulling her tighter against
him.

He gently pressed his lips to her hair, and
whispered, “Sleep, gorgeous.” She had arrived at the campsite
already exhausted from both her cross-country ride and the tension
of avoiding pursuit. With the encouragement of
his
sweeping caresses, those
factors combined with the
aftereffects of their shared passion conspired to pull her under
the comforting blanket of oblivion quickly.

Jesus
. Hurley was stretched out on his
back, staring into the darkness shrouding the van’s ceiling.
Resting against him was one of the prettiest girls he’d ever met.
So gorgeous you’d expect the attitude she’d been throwing at him
out by the bonfire. So beautiful you knew to the soles of your
boots she wouldn’t be worth it because she’d be busting your balls
every single goddamned day, which would mean fucking her wouldn’t
be sweet. Fuck, no. A girl like that? Fucking would be revenge.
Payback sex, and while he liked a good choke fuck, he wasn’t into
hating the bitch he was balling.

Mela was good at her game. So
good, you might overlook the signs that she wasn’t really the kind
of bitch she liked to play. But he’d been looking, been
watching.
Oh, yeah. Had my eyes on
her
. Watching as closely as possible, studying
her every move. Ever since she freaked out when he touched her.
When her eyes went wide and blank, looking like a deer trapped in
the flare of headlights, unsure which way to dart to avoid the
danger barreling down on her. Hurley had retreated, fast, because
he’d seen that look before. Ruby and Eddie, who belonged to Bear,
had that look sometimes. So did Gunny’s old lady, Sharon, and every
Rebel knew her backstory.

Mela had come from New Mexico;
he’d seen the plate on her bike.

New Mexico meant a lot of
things. Duck, one of the brothers from Chicago, had been out there
recently. Shit happened to the family of a club the Rebels were not
just friendly with, but from what Hurley heard, considered as
partners, the Southern Soldiers. Prospects were excluded from
church, still, the news made the rounds, and everyone knew that
Duck had rescued the daughter of the Soldiers’ president from
certain death, smack dab in the middle of a conflict with a Rebel
enemy.
Diamante
MC
. He sucked in a hard breath, listening as
Mela’s hair shifted, rustling quietly as her head lifted and fell
with the movement of his chest.

Hurley had met that chick,
knew Mela wasn’t her, but the look in Bella’s eyes was exactly like
the burden Mela carried. Someone had hurt her like
that
, a scar that
ran soul deep. His arm tightened, pulling her closer to his side.
Her hand moved in response, sliding up his chest to rest directly
above his heart. She sighed in her sleep, peaceful, relaxing
against him.

So gorgeous. So
damaged.
So
needy
.

Damn, she ran
hot
. Hotter than anything he’d had before.
Hot, tight, wet, and willing.
Fuck
. He scowled up at the ceiling, willing
his dick back to sleep. He knew he wasn’t shit in the sack, but
he’d never felt that kind of closeness before. Never had been
certain, without the woman directing him, what the bitch needed to
find the “O” at least once. He’d never intentionally left a woman
he fucked high and dry, but if she didn’t get there and didn’t let
him know what revved her motor, he wouldn’t go looking for the
switch.

With Mela though, he’d been
able to read her like a book. She let him explore every inch of
her, felt good, tasted better, and fucked like an animal. From the
stinging lines scored on his back, she’d liked what they’d done.
Not afraid to show him, either. Gorgeous, inside and out, she
hadn’t been afraid of him, and he ate up the trust she gave him,
pushing them both to the limit. Out by the bonfire, he’d discovered
that she could be sweet, and was smart as hell. So fucking smart,
he would never know why she took his hand, following him into the
darkness. Glad she did, gratified she let him lead her back to this
van. A place that had been purgatory before she’d entered. Now,
heaven.

That’s what he’d been thinking
when he undressed her. An angel had come to rest in front of him.
Beautiful, but didn’t know it, and that shit wasn’t an act. He’d
been around bitches who pretended they didn’t know what they looked
like, falsetto voice as fake as their beauty in the end. Mela
wasn’t one of those. She’d trusted him again, sitting there on the
cheap mattress looking like a princess. Like a Greek goddess come
to life and she was about to let him touch her. Him, a prospect,
but not in her eyes. He didn’t have to earn a place beside her, she
was willing to accept him as he was. Arms wide, ready to embrace
what he could give her.

Angel. Goddess.
Queen
.

Mouth between her legs, he’d
had to anchor her hips with one arm, holding her in place as he
tongue- and finger-fucked her mindless. Never had he enjoyed the
intimacy so much as with her. Never had he delved deep inside a
woman, again and again, just to hear her cry out, to see how high
he could bring her. When her fingers tugged his hair he’d nearly
gone insane, mouth clamped hard around her, sucking
deep—
he shifted, his balls pulling
up tight at the memory
—until she came, body
writhing.
I did that to
her
, he thought, reaching down with the arm
not curled around her, gripping his cock and squeezing
hard.

He’d serve her every day if
she let him. Take his time, learn what she wanted and liked, push
hard until she came, shattering with his name in her mouth a
million times. His bones sang with the truth that she was as
in-tune with him as he was her, and knew instinctively what he
needed. Made him feel like a goddamned king.
I’d give her the world if I could
.

He stretched and snuggled
closer, nuzzling into her hair and wrapping her up in his arms as
his eyes drifted closed.
Fucking
gorgeous queen
.

Disoriented, she startled
awake, her heart pounding, and froze in place at the feeling of a
large, hot, male body next to her. There was a sudden thrill of
fear at the thick arms wrapped around her, one palm cupping her
bare ass cheek. Then, as memories of where she was and who was next
to her slowly slid into place, her heart rate slowly returned to
normal. Hurley had wanted her here, had asked her to
stay.

He was sleeping heavily, his breathing deep
and even, relaxed and
easy
in his dreams.
Mela
reached out with one hand, using the pad
of
her
thumb to trace his features, dragging
his chin down, gently parting his lips. Barely breathing, she
whispered her goodbye, “Was a good night, Hurley.”
Carefully extricating herself from his grip, dressing as quietly
as possible, she eased the door of the van open. Once outside, she
pulled it closed just as slowly and silently as she could, hearing
it latch into place with an inevitability that was so poignant she
had to blink away sudden tears.

Walking towards her bike, she pulled out her
phone to see it was early morning, and from the blush of light in
the sky, she knew the sun would be peeking over the horizon before
long. With a sigh, she looked around and realized everyone else was
still sleeping,
except
for a lone figure
seated near the remains of the bonfire. Moving that direction, she
recognized DeeDee, resting comfortably in a chair with a quilt
drawn around her shoulders, staring at the glowing embers of the
banked fire.