Page 49 of Fury

“You’re a bike club. What would you be warring about?”

“Territory.”

“Is that what those bikers with the blood emblem wanted? Something to do with territory?”

Fury cocked his head sideways, his lips pushing together, his eyes lightening slightly as I distracted him with questions.

“Yeah. They wanted us to join them. Takeover the club.”

“Hostile takeover, huh? Who knew bikers had politics like that?”

“You’ve no idea, doll. But right now, I need you to shut up talking.”

“Why, Fury? I know nothing about you. Don’t you think we should get to know each other better before we have sex? Assuming that’s where this is going, you know, you on top of me shirtless, can really only end one way.”

“We’ve had sex, Heidi.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why doesn’t that count? I put my dick in you, doll. That’s sex.”

“That was a quick fuck in a graveyard, Fury. This is sex. Naked sex.”

“We’re not naked.”

“I suspect we’re gonna be.”

“Yeah, good plan.”

Fury dropped my hand from the scar on his arm and reached forward, grabbing my shirt and ripping it open. The material shrieked, and the buttons popped. And Fury stopped, suddenly staring down at my chest like he’d never seen boobs before in his life.

“Fuck, they’re beautiful,” he spoke to them, not me.

He dropped his hands to my stomach, the rough pads immediately sending ripples over my skin, sliding up over me until he stopped at the under wire of my bra. His fingers slid behind me, popping the clasp and pulling it off, a loud exhale of air slipping his lips. Then he stopped and stared, not moving, his eyes devouring, but the rest of him not touching.

“Fury?”

“Shush, doll. Just let me look a moment.”

And so, I lay there, my chest on show, watching Fury, watch me.

“Fuck,” he breathed, dropping his hands back to my body, cupping my boobs, his fingers slowly working up over them. He circled my nipples, not quite touching, just teasing, thousands and thousands of tiny sparks skittering over my skin. And then he squeezed both gently, flicking his thumb over the very top, so light I could barely feel it, but the tiny light flick was electric. I arched involuntarily, pushing them into his hands.

“Fuck,” he breathed again, not to me, not him, just aloud.

Fury moved, switching his weight a little so that he was straddling me, his hands working down my stomach now, pushing behind me, fiddling with the zip on my skirt, and then losing patience.

“Take it off, Heidi,” he commanded.

And I did. Pulling the zip free, sliding the black skirt over my hips. But he didn’t let me finish before he took over, wrenching it down my legs, tugging at the tattered tights, for what good they now did, until the only thing covering me were the black lacy knickers. He stopped and stared again, his brow furrowing, those eyes growing dark.

“Your turn, Fury.”

His face moved, pulling into a smile at one side. A smirk, and he reached for the button on the leather bike trousers, popping it open like he was flicking the top off a beer bottle, sliding the zip down and then pushing the leather off over his hips. Slowly he worked them lower, a little patch of hair at the top of his groin, just trimmed enough so it was there, trailing deeper into his pants. And then, just as he reached the very top of his thighs, it sprung out in all its perfect, hard and glistening glory. I’d expected underpants. Boxers. Tight ones. I’d expected him to wear something. But there was nothing now covering him, just cock. And it was big, and tanned like he was, a darker tip, like that had been tanned too, only a deeper colour, almost brown. The entire head stared at me, ridged, and engorged, and angry. Just like him.

“Fuck,” I breathed.

Chapter Twenty Three