Gunnar A Motorcycle Club Romance - Nina Levine Page 0,66
talk to me like I’m the shit on his fucking shoes. By the time we return to the hotel, I’m unsure if he’ll survive the night or if I’ll finally lose all sense and choke the life out of him.
It’s just after five when we get back. Hearst goes straight up to his room and I head to mine after he tells me his security guy will take over for a couple of hours. He needs me back for his dinner, but that’s not until 7:30 p.m.
I change out of the goddamn suit he insists we wear and into my gym clothes before heading down to the gym. The punching bag and I have a fucking date.
An hour in the gym doesn’t come close to ridding me of the wild energy consuming me. And it sure as fuck doesn’t take my mind off thinking about the fact Chelsea’s married to a motherfucker who can’t fucking protect her himself. And I’m fucking pissed off that after everything she’s done, I’m still over here worrying about her.
I head back up to my room and shower before dressing in a clean suit. If I never see another suit after this week, it won’t be too fucking soon.
After deciding I need some fresh air, I exit the room and head for the lifts. My legs slow as I see Chelsea waiting at it.
She turns and looks at me as I come closer. As I run my eyes over her body, I take in the sparkly silver sleeveless top and long emerald green skirt she’s wearing. I never liked green until I started dating her. It’s her favourite colour, and fuck she looks good in it.
“What happened to you?” she asks, eyeing my face where the Sopranos dude got some punches in.
“You sound genuinely concerned, Mayfair.”
“Because I am.”
“Don’t be. The other guy looks worse. Do you know what shit your husband’s involved in?”
Her eyes widen. “Was this because of him?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh God.” She reaches out to touch my face before I can stop her.
I remove her hand even though I fucking like it there. “You don’t know what he’s into?”
“No. I have no idea.”
I didn’t expect her to, and I believe her. “You need to be careful, Chelsea. Watch your back at all times.”
Surprise flashes in those beautiful eyes of hers and she moves closer to me. “Careful, Mason, or I’ll start thinking you don’t really hate me.”
Fuck, her scent hits me; her voice hits me; everything fucking hits me. My arm goes around her waist and I move her back against the wall between the two lifts before bringing my mouth to hers. I kiss her as I grind myself against her, and when her leg coils around mine, I fucking grip it and hold it there.
It fucking belongs there.
It doesn’t fucking belong around Joe Hearst.
Sliding my hand along her leg, I reach under her skirt and bring my hand around to her cunt. As I push two fingers inside, I lift my mouth and growl, “I need to taste you.”
She wants this as much as I do, but she shakes her head and tries to push me away. “Joe’s on his way up.”
That just pisses me off. Gripping her waist harder, I reach deeper inside her and rasp, “I don’t fucking care.”
She puts her hands to my chest and pushes me away. Her eyes are wide with worry. “He’ll be here any minute. And besides, we’re in the fucking corridor for anyone to see.”
“And. I. Don’t. Fucking. Care.” With that, I drop to my knees, lift her skirt, tear her panties off, and bring my mouth to her cunt. The moan that escapes her lips as my tongue enters her causes me to lose my fucking mind.
Those moans of hers should all be mine, and the fact they aren’t drives me insane.
Fucking. Insane.
I inhale her scent deeply as I fuck her with my tongue. She tries to resist me—I feel that in the way she tenses up—but it doesn’t take her long to submit. And it doesn’t fucking take her long to come.
She might have tried to push me away, but she’s fucking into this. She’s all frantic fingers in my hair and foot on my shoulder while pressing herself against my face like she can’t fucking get enough of me.
When I’m done, I stand and wipe her from my beard while she straightens her skirt. The lift indicates that Hearst is two levels away. I fucking wish he’d stepped out of the lift