Her Older Biker: An Older Man Younger Woman Curvy Romance (Daddy Knows Better Book 8) by Liz Fox

Author:Liz Fox [Fox, Liz]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-02-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

Emma

“Mmmm,” I swim forward through the last shadows of sleep, toward the delicious sensations flickering at my center. It’s Warden, curled around me, dropping sleepy kisses against my neck while between my legs, he gently pinches and rolls my clit in his thick fingers.

Waking up in his bed—especially like this—is amazing. I scooch closer to him and crack my eyes open to take in the broad bronze expanse of his chest. Tattoos swirl across his pecs and shoulders, down his arms all the way to the wrist.

“I love these,” I whisper as I reach out to stroke my fingers across his tattooed skin. “They’re beautiful.”

He nibbles my earlobe, practically purring as I stroke a thumb across his flat nipple. “Traditional Samoan tattoos,” he rumbles against my neck. “Done the old way.”

“They’re amazing.” I lean forward and kiss the heavy swirls of dark ink, pausing to sigh against his hot skin as his callused fingers stroke across my swelling clit.

In one smooth, easy motion, he rolls me underneath him, caging me in with his muscled arms and legs as he buries me in a hot, hungry kiss. His mouth devours mine—differently than last night. It’s aggressive, like he wants to devour me, and—oh God, when he thrusts his big fingers inside of me while his mouth trails down to suck on my nipple through the fabric of my shirt, I can’t wait to let him.

The mid-morning sun filters through the blinds of his bedroom, and it’s quiet except for our kisses and gasps—a hazy, surreal morning, full of secret things and whispered confessions.

Until the jangling chime of Warden’s phone shatters the moment. He groans and buries his head against my shoulder as his fingers, buried between my legs, still and withdraw.

“I gotta get that, baby,” he says, dropping a quick kiss on my lips. He rolls away and grabs the phone, tapping the screen to accept the call.

“This is Kapua,” he says. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t say anything, just grunts his assent as someone speaks rapidly on the other side, too quietly for me to hear. In a minute, he sets the phone back down and turns to me.

“Is everything okay?” I ask

He shakes his head. “Club business. Nothing we can’t handle, but we have to go deal with some bullshit with another club.”

He rises from the bed and disappears into his walk-in closet, emerging a second later as he buttons a pair of jeans around his lean waist. I can’t resist admiring his muscles bunching and flexing as he threads a belt through the loops and pulls a plain black t-shirt over his head, followed by the worn, creaky leather of his cut. Then a pair of black socks, and his heavy black motorcycle boots.

“I want you to head down to the bar and hang out with my mom,” he says as he disappears into the bathroom and grabs his toothbrush. “Everything’s fine, but I would feel better.”

A few minutes later, we walk down the stairs from his apartment door, hand-in-hand on our way to the bar.

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