Read Baby For The Biker Bad Boy (Bad Boy MC Romance) for Free Online Page A

her closer to him, his hand moving up over her jaw. “You are the best thing about my life right now. I don’t want to lose that.”
    “Then quit cutting me out.”
    “There are things you don’t understand.”
    “I just spent two hours in a stranger’s backyard with drugs lying openly out on a table and more naked women than I saw in the old Playboy magazines that my father had hidden in his workshop. I think I understand that your club isn’t full of upstanding citizens.”
    “That’s not it.”
    “Then what is it? What is going on with you?”
    He buried his fingers in her hair and pulled her tighter against him. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
    “Then don’t hurt me.”
    Scribe kissed her, his touch painful as he wrapped her hair around his fingers and twisted her head so that he could move her as close and as open to his explorations as possible. She didn’t fight him. In fact, she wanted him in a way she had never wanted anything. She buried her fingers in his shirt and pressed her hand under the tight cinch of his belt. He pushed her back, nearly causing her to stumble as they moved from the crumbling asphalt to the sandy shoreline. When they reached a small patch of grass, he tucked her body under his as they went down in a controlled fall.
    Hands seemed to be everywhere at once. She pulled at his shirt, tangling it inside of his jacket. He pulled at her shirt, not snagging it, but getting it cleanly over her head. Her bra went next, disappearing as he pressed her back into the sharp blades of grass and sticky pieces of sand. She pressed her body up against his as his hand sought access down the back of her jeans. He must have felt the sand clinging to her skin because he pulled away, causing her to moan in protest, but only to strip his jacket off and wedge it under her body.
    The warmth of him against her back, the warmth of his body stretched out against her hips, her ribs, and her chest…it was like being wrapped in the most pleasurable cocoon she could ever imagine. And then his hand was tugging at her jeans and her thoughts dissolved, disappearing as pleasure exploded from inner thigh to the nerveless tips of her hair.
    When she imagined the moment she first lay with a man, she had imagined a warm bed, expensive sheets, soft music playing from some unseen source. She hadn’t imagined ants crawling over her thighs, sand and mud wedged between her toes, or that the music would be crickets and cicadas hiding somewhere in the darkness.
    Scribe was gentle, his touch more delicate than she would ever have imagined. Once her clothing was gone, moved out of his way, his urgency died down. It was as though by allowing him to remove her jeans, she had given him some unconscious signal that she had no intention of stopping what it was he wanted. His hands caressed her thighs, that soft spot behind her knees, the knobby curve of her ankle bone. And then his mouth sought out her throat, her nipples, his touch like that of a blind man trying to find his way. He kissed her belly, his tongue flicking against her navel before he dropped a half dozen kisses along her hip bone.
    She ran her fingers through his hair, separating the long strands with her touch, pressing him closer to her as his lips moved lower still. He touched her like he had never known anything quite like her body, tasting her like he had never tasted anything sweeter. Her mind fractured, her body becoming all about the pleasure of his touch. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, her retraced his path and worked his way slowly back up the length of her frame.
    Everything she’d ever read, everything she’d ever been told, everything she had ever imagined could never have prepared her for the reality of that first moment. He pressed himself against her and she opened up, lifting her hips to his thrust. And then…pleasure and pain mingled and she caught her breath. Scribe slid his arms around her, tugging at her hips, his lips