Mercy's Angels by Barnard Barbi

Author:Barnard, Barbi [Barnard, Barbi]
Language: eng
Format: azw, mobi, epub
Publisher: Beau Coup Publishing
Published: 2015-08-09T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

The Past is Calling

I wake up tangled in Wayne’s arms and legs. This is my heaven. Knowing my man will never stray, never lie to me and love me with every fiber of his being is paradise. He is passionate in private and burly in public. He is a mechanic by trade, a master with metal. He builds custom motorcycles. Never an ordinary bike. He gets to know his customers on a friendly level. Then turns a lot of metal into a one of a kind creation that fits the personality perfectly. An expensive creation. This is how he keeps me in the life he thinks I deserve. Little does he know I would give it all up and live in a hut naked if he asked. I just want to be with him.

There is no shiver in my spine, but I have goosebumps from the hand trailing down my back and hip.

“Mornin’, bootiful. Wanna luv me?” he mumbles into my skin as kisses rain across my neck and cheek. I love mornings.

I run my hands through his hair. “I always want to love you. Why don’t you show me how you like to be loved?”

Hands are caressing over my body as kisses are peppered onto my neck. That spot behind my ear gets me all the time. My own hands are moving to his chest. The feel of his coarse hair on those pecks is my weakness. I grab onto his massive biceps and urge him to roll onto his back.

“You’re supposed to show me how to love you. I think you forgot,” I tell him as I rub my core against his hardness.

“Climb on and ride like a rodeo pro,” he murmurs while his mouth is full of my breasts.

“I want more than an eight second ride, big boy.”

I rise up to make room for his cock to enter me. I slowly lower and watch his face. The desire I see when he is completely inside me is my reward. His moan of contentment tells me he enjoys my body the way I enjoy his. I set the pace as slow as possible to see if he is going to take over. Some days he’ll allow it, others he won’t.

A few slow strokes and the growling begins. “Damn it, woman. As much as I would love to grow old in this bed with you, I need to go to work this week.” He grabs me around my waist, sits up, and flips me to my back without slipping from inside me.

I playfully whine, “I didn’t get my eight seconds.”

He slams into me. “You’re the bull now. Buck me off.” He is pushing my breath out of me with his thrusts. I feel him deep within. I need this.

I need him to control my body and to be in charge. His mouth finds mine and his kisses are inflaming me.

He grabs my hands and brings them above me. Holding both of my hands in one of his, the other reaches for my hip, pulling me onto him, tighter, deeper.

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