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

and back
down, his thumb stroking along the arch of each foot. “Lay back;
let me make you feel good.” Gentle caresses, each one stealing her
breath. “Let me make it good for you,
honey.”
    His reverent tone and the constant touches,
soothing heat from his hands across her skin
gave her the courage to do as he asked. His hands stroked higher
across her ankles, then the inside of her knees, sweeping down,
then up again, farther, then— frustratingly —back down. He
moved and she was devastated, losing all contact with his hands. It
was only a moment and then she cried out, unable to still the
tremble that swept through her when his thumbs, palms, and
fingertips again trailed up and down her skin. Delicious torture,
because while she longed for each caress, she couldn’t predict the
path his hands would take, her keen anticipation overwhelming,
keeping her on edge.
    Rising on his knees, he bent
over and then his mouth was on her, tracing a heated path up one
inner thigh. His breath ghosting across her skin merely a prelude,
leaving her gasping at the first bold swipe of his tongue across
her intimate lips. With a moan, she lifted her
hips, movement compelled by the sensation. Hurley chuckled,
deliberate fingers leisurely gliding up and down the folds between
her legs. Mela felt the smooth slide, the touch of his
work-roughened hands glancing soft as spun silk through the
evidence of her desire.
    “God, honey,” he muttered, lips brushing
across the skin of her inner thigh as he spoke. “You’re fucking
drenched for me.” She was. Had been since she opened the van door
to feast her eyes on his beauty. With a shift in position, he
lapped at her, the tip of his tongue teasing
her clit out of its hood as he sucked that bundle of nerves into
his mouth. Heat enveloped her, skin sensitized from each touch
leaping at the sensations he rained upon her.
    “Mmmm.” He made that noise in the back of
his throat again, and she shivered. “Fucking
drenched. Love it, love the way you taste.” His hands were touching
and stroking, then she felt one finger slide inside her, heard the
whine escape her lips at the sensation of being filled, but not
full. Need more .
    Moving slowly, steadily, he
pushed deep, and his other fingers spread across her ass, gripping
tightly as he thrust in, grinding hard. Then, he stroked out just
as slowly, plunging back inside with two fingers, the more generous
width stretching her. God,
yes .
    It sounded like a vow when he
said, “Gonna make you feel good.” One arm
braced across her hips, holding her in place, he fell into a
rhythm, his hand moving, fingers thrusting, hot mouth sucking. He
laughed when she lost her grip on the sheet, demandingly threading
one hand through his hair, and the vibration against her sex had
her drawing her knees up and out, voluntarily opening for
him. Promise
fulfilled .
    “God,” he muttered, pressing his mouth
against her, the movement and speed of his tongue and fingers
increasing as he flicked and licked— “so good” —drilling inside and
then sucking hard, each nuance of movement forcing her towards what
felt like a dangerous precipice. “Fucking gorgeous.”
His words were nearly inaudible over the sounds of him going down
on her, the noises her body made as it accepted every touch, and
she realized she was making constant incoherent entreaties of
desire and arousal. His fingers slid in and out fast,
reaching inside, pumping, seeking as she clenched around him in
pulses, waves of pleasure rolling closer. “Come for me, baby. Come
on,” he coaxed, lapping at her lips, fingers driving deep. “Let me
hear you.”
    “Nearly,” she breathed, trying to not fist her hand in his hair. “So good.”
Capturing her top lip in her teeth, she closed her eyes, focused on
the sensation gathering low in her belly, chasing it, tightening
around his fingers, her hand falling away to grasp the sheet.
    “So good,” she called again, encouraging him
and suddenly she