Wrath (Heartlands Motorcycle Club #7) - Dani Wyatt Page 0,16

got much more than a great dry hump to give me.

I shake my head. “No. I want you to take me.” His eyes widen and I realize the innuendo. “Out of here. Take me for a ride on your bike. Show me where you live. I want to see things about you. You’ve been watching me, you know so much about me, I know almost nothing about you.”

“You sure?” He asks, a gritty tone to his voice that says to me that once he gets me to his place, all this dry humping is going to turn very wet.

I nod. “I’m sure. Let’s go.”

With that, I’ve got my bag, my phone and he settles me on the back of his bike, securing a heavy black helmet on my head before we are off down the road without another word.

I never thought much about what it would feel like to ride on a motorcycle. But, God, it’s so freeing.

I feel powerful. The wind, the way I see things so differently as the scenery goes by. Nothing like riding in a car. I appreciate it all so much more. I can’t explain it, but I feel it and I think I understand this lifestyle just a little bit more.

Hanging onto Wrath is also a huge turn on. He’s got the power, the control of the bike and his hand reaches back and caresses my leg as we drive. When we stop at a stop sign or light, he turns and asks me each time if I’m okay and I am so okay.

More okay than I’ve been in a long time.

When we pull down a dirty road, he slows. The dust and rocks are spitting up from the tires, and I cling to him tighter, burying my face into his shoulder with my eyes closed until he brings the bike to a stop and I feel it tip to the side.

He takes my hand and I open my eyes.

In front of me is a neat, small cabin sort of house. Not overly tiny but not large either. It’s surrounded by pines and trees, and beyond the side I look back to see a small lake in the distance.

“Come on.” He pulls me by the hand and takes me inside and shows me around.

It’s warm, if sparsely decorated, and he grabs a coke for each of us out of the vintage refrigerator before we walk out the back porch.

“This is beautiful.”

“Was my mom and dad’s weekend place. Spent lots of time here when I was growing up.”

I look over to see fishing poles leaning against the porch wall. “You fish?”

“Yeah.” He answers.

“I love to fish.”

“Then let’s fish.” He grabs two poles and we head down a stone path to the lake where there’s a long dock and a couple old folding outdoor type chairs.

I love that he didn’t just take me here for a quick fuck. Instead, we spend an hour on the dock, talking and fishing, catching nothing big enough to keep but still, it feels comfortable, almost intimate, the way he helps me while still letting me do things my way.

When the sun starts to go down we pack up and head back to the cabin.

“You hungry?”

I shrug, “A little.”

He runs his tongue across his teeth and I realize I am hungry, but not for food.

“What do you want?” He asks, leading me through the door and a wave of lust overwhelms me as he moves into the kitchen, then turns around. His dark eyes, the beard, the way he moves. I want him. Now.

“I want you.” I manage, and as if he was thinking the same thing, he’s got me scooped up off the floor and he’s carrying me down the short hallway to a bedroom.

WRATH

I lay her down on my bed and think to myself that she’s the one thing that’s been missing in my house.

Our home.

I slowly strip her, admiring every luscious inch as I do. I strip myself then, enjoying watching her as she watches me.

My cock is stone, and is demanding what it’s wanted for a year. To feel that pussy wrap around and give it a welcome home hug.

I lay down next to her, wanting to feel her against me, and I roll her onto her side, her softness against my hardness and her ass is a fucking masterpiece.

I can’t help but reach down and give it a slap, listening to Kristina’s yelp as I dig my fingers into the flesh and growl into her ear.

“All