Read Biker Chick Campout (Rebel Wayfarers MC) for Free Online

demandingly,
desperate for his touch. Need this . Plucking at the piece of
leather tying his hair back, she released it, and his dark blond locks fell around them, creating a silky curtain
that swayed with each movement.
    The muscles of her stomach jolted and
lurched with surprise as one of his hands slipped underneath her
shirt, backs of his knuckles brushing along her ribs in a
barely-there touch. He broke the kiss and pressed his lips to the
side of her head, his breathing as ragged as hers when he said,
“Mela, don’t tell me to stop, please God .” His hand rose
along her ribs, thumb stroking the side of her breast and then
across her already hard nipple, dragging roughly against the fabric
of her bra. “Want you,” he murmured, palming her breast and plumping it, slipping his fingers inside to
tease her bare skin.
    “Yes,” she breathed, and he made an eager noise in response. Easing her back onto the
mattress, he propped himself over her on an arm as he reached down,
lifting and bringing her legs into the van. With one hand, he grasped the handle, and she watched the wedge of
light from the fire grow smaller, narrowing and then finally
winking out of existence as the door closed. Eyes stretched wide,
adjusting to the darkness, she found just enough light filtered in
through the windows to identify his silhouette where he knelt
between her feet. From the tilt of his head, she thought he was
looking down at her, so when she felt his hands on her ankles, she didn’t jump.
    Wordlessly he tugged her boots from her
feet, chill night air stealing across her skin as he slipped her
socks off and tucked them into each boot, setting the paired
footwear aside. In the same fashion, he slowly, methodically
undressed her. His focus on her was unsettling, but he seemed
totally in control. Stretching his hands out, his fingers found and
worked the fastening at the waistband of her jeans. Bending her
knees, palms sliding in a firm motion down her hips, he removed
them, taking her panties at the same time. She watched as he
carefully laid her folded clothing next to her boots.
    In silence he reached out to grab one of her
hands and tugged, pulling her into a sitting position. Hands
sliding around and under her shirt, he worked the fastener on her
bra, and then took her shirt and bra off, discarding them next to
the growing pile of clothes.
    Totally nude, as she sat in front of him,
waiting, she felt spotlighted in the limited light shining through
the windows, her eagerness waning while the moments ticked past
without him touching her. Nervously, she swallowed hard, then
lifted and crossed her arms, hiding her stiffening nipples. Too
much, I can’t—
    Mela was startled when Hurley said, voice low and forceful, “Don’t cover yourself. Let
me look at you.” The command was clear, certainty infusing his tone. Dropping her arms, she still
felt exposed and had to fight the urge to bring her knees up to her
chest, but she wanted him so badly. Dios . Aroused, she was
hesitant to do anything that would cause him to stop. In the end,
desire won out over inhibition, and she sat in
silence, legs curled in front of her, arms at her sides. “Fucking gorgeous ,” he said in that same greedy, possessive tone. He
took a deep breath, and she found her chest rising in an echo of
the movement. “Blinding me, you’re so beautiful.”
    Moving slowly, he took off his cut, folding
it carefully, each motion showing a deep respect for his club. Then
with quick movements, he tossed his own clothing aside with far
less care than he’d shown hers.
    Lifting one hand, he swept his hair back from his face, releasing it as he tilted his
head and then reached out to her, each of these actions seeming to
take forever until the moment he finally touched her. With a firm
grip, he cupped each foot, tugging her legs open, and pulling her
down the mattress and towards him.
    “Lie down, Mela,” he said
softly , running his hands up the inside of her legs