Page 60 of Iron Will

I want to be the only woman to make him feel this way.

God help me, I want to be the only woman in Rourke’s life.

My thoughts are interrupted by Rourke hissing out a curse and pulling away from me.

“On the bed,” he orders roughly.

I immediately do as he says. I move to the king-size bed, and I’m barely sitting down when he’s moving over me, pushing me down onto my back. He props himself on one knee and takes the thin fabric of my panties in his fingers. Eyes locked on his, I prop myself on my elbows and raise my hips so he can take them off me. I’m so ready for him to be inside me that my legs fall open, but instead of him kneeling between them, he slides down further and parts my thighs with his rough hands.

My breath catches in my throat in anticipation as I realize what’s about to happen.

Then, Rourke’s tongue finds my clit.

My entire body jolts with a force that hits me like a flamethrower. My hips buck toward him, with a surge of need so powerful it’s almost like pain. Rourke pulls back, circling around my swollen sex, grabbing my hips and holding them down so I can’t move closer to him. He slows his tongue, exploring and tasting me as I writhe and moan, at once in agony and in the most delicious pleasure I’ve ever felt. I can barely breathe, my every movement in rhythm with his strokes, my entire body controlled by him like a puppet master pulling my strings. I moan incoherently, trying to beg him, but I can’t make my mind form any words other than his name.

He leaves my clit, sliding his tongue downward to plunge deep inside me. I know I’m wet, soaking, dripping, but I’m too far gone to be embarrassed as he licks and tastes me, I just want more, more, I just want him to let me come, to give me what he knows I’m desperate for. My cries get sharper, shorter, more desperate, and then, just when I think I might actually go insane, Rourke slides his tongue out of me and sucks my clit between his lips.

I tense. Then I explode.

I cry out, gripping at the mattress. I’m falling, falling, into a place I’ve never been, and all I can feel is Rourke’s mouth on me, my skin on fire, the blood pounding through me as my entire body ricochets through the most intense orgasm of my life. I barely register it when he moves away, lifting himself up to kneel between my thighs. But then, the velvet heat of him slides against my opening, slick with my juices, and I cry out again as my eyes fly open.

“Laney,” he says hoarsely.

Then, he’s inside me.

Rourke drives himself deep, gripping my hips as he pulls me onto him. His gaze is locked on mine, dark eyes blazing with an intensity I’ve never seen. He withdraws, then drives in again, harder, like a man possessed. I know from the tension in his face he’s working to hold himself back, but that he won’t last long.

Rourke expands inside me, so much that I can feel it.

His eyes close.

Then, roaring my name, he drives into me one final time and finds his release.

I spendthe night with Rourke in his apartment.

It feels like an oasis to me here, tucked away from the rest of the world. Somehow, in the middle of a biker clubhouse, I sleep better than I have in months. I’m dead to the world until the next morning, when once again, Rourke wakes me. But this time, it’s not with a hand on my shoulder.

“Rourke,” I moan as he enters me from behind. I arch my back to meet him, loving the way he stretches me.

His hand comes around my waist, grabbing mine and guiding it down to my already swollen nub, He slides my middle finger through my slick juices, then begins to swirl it against me in slow lazy circles. I tense and arch further, my head falling to the side, back against his shoulder. He kisses me deeply as he continues to swirl, and begins to pump himself inside me. It’s all so much, so intense, that I start to lose any sense of where I end and he begins, and soon, almost before I realize it, I’m coming, spasming around his cock as he pumps once more and empties himself deep inside me.

I’ve never felt so full, or so alive, or so…loved.

We must fall asleep again,because some time later, I wake up with a start. Leaning down over the bed, I reach into my bag on the floor and pull out my phone.

“Shoot — I’m going to be late for work!” I gasp as I look at the screen.

“You need to go home before I drive you to the hospital?” Rourke asks in a gravely voice. He props himself up on one elbow as I scramble out of bed.

I do a quick calculation in my head. “No time. I’ll be okay — I have a blazer hanging up in my office.” I grab up the pile of my clothes on the floor. It’s not ideal, but it will have to do. “Is there…?”

“Through there,” Rourke rumbles, pointing to a door.

I race to the bathroom, hoping he’s not staring at my naked butt, and lock myself in. I pee, get dressed, splash some water on my face, and squeeze some toothpaste on my finger from a tube in the vanity to give my teeth a quick scrub. Thankfully, I also have a toothbrush at work.

By the time I get out of the bathroom, Rourke is dressed himself. We walk through the now-deserted main room of the clubhouse and out the front door to Rourke’s bike. I pick up the helmet and strap it on, then get on behind him and put my feet on the pegs, marveling at how second-nature this has already started to feel.

The crisp morning air blows the cobwebs from my brain. By the time we pull up in front of the hospital entrance, I’m feeling almost fully awake. A little caffeine and I should be as good as new.