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then?”
    I hadn’t even thought of that. My mind screams no no no, but my pussy gushes around his fingers because please please . And still he strokes, the wet noises drowned out by my whimpers.
    I shake my head, unable to give voice to this conflicted desire. I want him filling me up…everywhere. Too much and not enough. Deep and hard. Soft and slow. The teasing, the torment, it’s nearly unbearable. I just want him to fuck me again. To claim me in the daylight. To take me as a woman, not as a debt to be collected or a prize to be won or a victim to be soothed.
    “I don’t want your fingers. I want your cock.” All that wanting builds and builds without anywhere to go. I’m frantic with need, frustrated, almost angry with it. If I could bite him, I would. “Pin me to your fucking wall and make me come already.”
    His grip loosens around my neck, and then we’re rolling until he’s on top of me. “You don’t go on my wall. My wall is for shit I’ll never have, places I’ll never go. I’ll fuck you in my bed where you belong.”
    The mattress bounces as he springs up, and I’m so close I nearly come from the subtle vibration. Or from his declaration. I can’t even process that right now. It’s probably meaningless. One of those things people say in the throes of passion. Oh God.
    He grabs a condom off his nightstand and rolls it on, looming over me like a dark angel with his lips curled into a victorious sneer. Because I fought him? Because he can have me? Both?
    I slip a hand between my legs to tease him a little, to give him a show. But as soon as my fingers brush that needy throbbing, I’m lost. Skimming and pressing and skimming again. It’s all for me.
    Take what you want.
    His hands are hot on my ass, lifting me up and then finally, finally, finally plunging deep into my pussy. Filling me in a way his fingers never could. I grab the back of his head and pull him down for a kiss that turns feral. Tongues and teeth. More taking. We are a clash of bodies, fighting for the same peak.
    When we come, it’s like the world is ending. Maybe it is.
    The sound of the headboard banging against the wall is replaced by another banging. The thump of fist against wood.
    And then Stone is standing at the foot of the bed. Noah doesn’t get up. He just yells over his shoulder while his cock softens inside me. “I’m getting tired of this shit, brother. You want in this bed, you’re gonna hafta buy me dinner first.”
    “It’s Jules.”
    Jules, that’s the sister he mentioned the other night. The handful. Noah stiffens at the sound of her name. “What’s she done now?”
    “You should get dressed. We can talk then.” Stone’s voice is tight with worry.
    “Is my bare ass making you uncomfortable? Just spit it out.”
    “Your dad found an ace of diamonds in her bed. She’s gone, Noah. The Bloody Jokers have her.”
    TO BE CONTINUED
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    Want to start reading Drive Me Wild (Part 3 of The Devil’s Host MC Serial) right now? Turn the page…

An Excerpt from DRIVE ME WILD
    T he longer I wait for someone to come get me, the harder it is to stay still. For the first fifteen minutes after Noah left to meet with the other club officers, I sat quietly and focused on the weave pattern in the thermal blanket spread over his bed. For the second fifteen minutes, I traced my finger over the curves of every pin up model gracing his walls. His commitment to diversity is impressive. His appreciation for a phenomenal rack, unquestionable. Now I am aggressively folding