Page 6 of Striker

Then she sinks down onto me, slow and easy, taking me an inch at a time with her eyes locked on mine. She’s warm and tight and perfect and she doesn’t stop until she’s got all of me, until she’s seated flush in my lap with a little gasp catching in her throat, and I’ve got both hands on her hips holding on like she’s the only solid thing left in the world.

“Beth.” Her name comes out of me like it hurts. “You feel so fuckin’ amazin’.”

“I know.” She rolls her hips, testing, and we both make a sound. “I know. Now hold on.”

She sets a slow, torturous pace, up and down, working herself on me with her hands braced on my chest and her head tipped back, chasing exactly what she wants and needs from me. I let her have her way with me, loving every single second of it. Watching Beth ride my cock in the moonlight is the single best experience of my entire life. I’d sit here and let her wreck me all night. I skim my hands up her sides, thumb her nipples until she moans, grinding down on me harder. I manage to get one hand between us where we’re joined and work her clit with my fingers in slow circles that make her rhythm stutter.

“That’s it,” she whispers breathlessly. “Just like that.”

“Take what you need, baby. I’ve got you.” I can’t take my fuckin’ eyes off her.

“Don’t stop.”

I don’t. I keep my fingers right where she wants, teasing her as she rides me faster, harder. The truck rocks under us and her words come out in these little broken pieces. She clenches around me, and watching her come apart above me is a thing of genuine beauty. I follow her, shooting my load hard and deep, with my hands locked on her hips and my face pressed to her throat.

She collapses over me into a boneless heap and I catch her in my arms, pulling her close. Both of us struggle to catch our breath.

“You okay, darlin’?”

She nods against my chest. “I really enjoyed that.”

I hold her tighter, not ready to let her out of my lap yet. I like the way my cock feels inside her too much to let her go. “You stay right where you are, sweetheart. I like the feel of you in my arms and wrapped around my cock.”

She lifts her head and looks at me, looking all flushed, drowsy and satisfied. My chest tightens and I feel a kind of tenderness growing there that scares the fuck outta me.

She murmurs, “You’re nothing if not a brazen bastard.”

Her words make me chuckle. Yeah. I’m keeping this beautiful woman close. She’s become my newest obsession.

Chapter 3

Striker

Here’s the thing nobody really understands except Beth. I’m running security for half the businesses in our small town, which means I’m eyes-on in places others aren’t. I’ve got drones, cameras, and motion sensors all over the place. I created a business that allows me to earn a decent living, do what I enjoy, and keep people safe.

This means I’m also eyes-on with Beth a large percentage of the day. She doesn’t keep the books for all the businesses where I provide security. She has five stable clients. She services each once a week. Once I notice the pattern, I can’t help but want to use it to my advantage. I start finding reasons to run my QA checks on the nights she’s working at the same business. That’s truly all it is. Quality assurance is something I have always done; now I just elect to do it on the same night she works at that establishment.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I think this can be seen as stalking, but she doesn’t object, so I don’t think it is. We meet up all week, each evening at a different business, and find time to talk while we work. It feels harmless, so I continue. After the third or fourth time we start hooking up on the weekends.

She’s the one who notices that all too often I’m running on too much caffeine and an empty stomach. Today marks six weeks since we met. We’re wrapping up work at the hardware store when she asks, “When was the last time you ate a full meal?”

I think about it for a second, realizing that I honestly can’t remember. “I’m fine,” I assure her.

“Then why is your stomach growling constantly? You can’t keep chasing away every growl with a sip of coffee.” She sets down her pen. “You’ve had four coffees since I got here and your hands are starting to tremble. Did you even eat today?”

“I had a jelly donut for breakfast,” I say without thinking.

“What are you, like five? It’s coming up on two in the afternoon and you’re telling me you’ve eaten exactly one donut today.”

“I also had a stick of gum,” I tell her guiltily.

“Being able to feed yourself is part of adulting. You know that, right?”

I open my mouth to object to the insinuation that I’m not adulting, but she lifts her chin and points the pen at me. “Don’t even try it on with me. You keep this whole town safe but constantly neglect yourself. You matter too, Conrad Cooper III. Open the bag I brought you and eat the nice sandwich I made for you.”

And the part that makes my chest ache is not being able to remember the last time somebody noticed my hunger, much less made me eat. My life revolves around doing for others in my own way. I’m a member of the Sons of Rage MC and a protector of our club and, by extension, our town. People need me and I can’t let them down. That doesn’t always leave a lot of time to worry about myself. And being a big gruff biker means nobody gets close enough to notice what’s going on with me. Which in turn means nobody’s taking care of the guy who takes care of everyone else.

But my Beth notices everything to do with me. And she cares enough to scold me into takin’ better care of myself. And she brings me food occasionally, mostly to stave off the shakes, I imagine. As embarrassing as it is to be called out, it’s also heartwarming in a way.