Oh God, why does he have to arouse me so? The very idea of his big, thick hands stroking over his cock, his abs clenching, his muscles pulling, has everything inside me coming to life.

“G-g-get used to your hand. It’s all you’ll get.”

“We’ll see about that.”

His lips brush over my ear and I helplessly whimper.

“I think you’d like me to fuck you right now.”

“You’re wrong about that,” I groan as he rocks his hips, pressing his jean-clad cock against my exposed pussy.

“Think I can make you come like this?”

“Don’t even try it.”

God, I sound so breathy. Like I’m not even trying to fight him off. He rocks his hips again, pressing against my core, causing my clit to jerk to life. I wish I could protest, but I can’t fight the bolts of pleasure shooting through my body. He tucks his arm under my head and brings my lips up to his, gently brushing over them.

“I think I can make you come. I think I can make these pretty lips part for me.”

I keep my lips pressed together, even though his are softly resting against mine. He keeps rocking his hips, the friction of his jeans causing enough pressure for my clit to begin that dull ache that I know will lead to extremely explosive things. He rubs his lips over mine.

“Come on, baby, open up. Let me kiss you.”

I shake my head, keeping my lips pressed together. He keeps stroking his hips against mine, and the friction suddenly becomes too much. I squirm, trying to escape him. He’s surrounding me, his warm body is crushed against mine, and his cock is taking me to the edge without even touching me.

“Yes, come,” he growls.

I throw my head back, and I do just that. I can’t stop it, I’m not even sure I want to. I push my chest up into his, my nipples grazing across his taut chest as my orgasm rocks me. I cry out his name, pulsing shamelessly as each burst of pleasure shoots through my body. The moment my lips part, he presses his tongue inside, giving me a mind-blowing kiss.

I give it all back. I kiss him so hard, so deep that our tongues become one as they dance together. His lips feel like heaven, and his stubble is scratchy against my cheek. I don’t care, not even a little bit. I kiss him until it hurts. By the time he wrenches his mouth from mine, we’re both panting.

“My cock fuckin’ hurts for you right now,” he breathes.

My body is alight, and my hand starts moving before my brain kicks in. His eyes widen as I reach into his jeans, curling my fingers around his throbbing length. It’s long and thick, but not too thick that it would be considered painful. It’s perfect. I rub my thumb over the piercing and he growls.

Mmmmm, I like the feeling of his cock in my hand.

I squeeze him, and then begin to gently stroke. His cock swells in my palm and his entire body goes tight.

“Fuck, you’re goin’ to de-man me in my own fuckin’ pants.”

I shift and reach down, shoving his jeans down. “No. I’m going to de-man you on my skin.”

“Mother. Fucker.”

I move with long but firm strokes. He winds up tighter and tighter with every pull. My entire body is aware of him; it’s taking everything I have not to moan his name and beg for him to end this inside me. I pick up the pace, jerking him harder and faster until he’s grinding out my name through clenched teeth.

“Coming, fuck,” he barks out.

His cock swells, and then he releases with a ragged growl. Hot spurts of come land on my belly, and I gasp with delight. It feels amazing, warm and soft, evidence of his arousal. His entire body shakes over mine as I milk every, last drop from his cock. When he begins to soften in my hand, he lets his body relax.

“I’ve never had my dick pulled for me, but shit, remind me to do it a few more times before I die.”

I laugh softly. “You haven’t had someone jerk you off?”

He shakes his head, pressing his lips to my shoulder. “No, babe, all the girls I fuck are whores, and they’re more than keen to just do what I want. No man wants a hand when he can have a mouth or a pussy.”

“Ouch.”

He nips my flesh, causing me to shudder. “I’d take your mouth or pussy over your hand any day, but babe, that was fuckin’ amazing.”

I slide out from underneath him and snatch my towel. “I have talented hands, what can I say?”

He snorts. “Talented enough to make breakfast?”

“You’re pushing it, biker.”

I shove to my feet and disappear down the hall to get some fresh clothes on. I go for a pair of jeans and a tight, black top that dips low at the front. I throw my hair up into a ponytail that is loose and messy, and then I make my way back out. Krypt is on the phone again, so I decide to attempt breakfast.

I’ll make it clear: I’m not a good cook, but surely I can whip some eggs together. I mean honestly, how hard can it be? I open the fridge and pull out eggs, bacon and some tomatoes. I decide to scramble it all together, so I chop the bacon and tomato into small pieces, crack a few eggs in, and then mix it all with salt.

Krypt watches me, leaning against the doorframe as I mix the eggs over the stove, and then make some toast. When it’s all ready, I place it on the table. He finishes his phone call and walks over, staring at the food. “Looks good,” he murmurs, sitting down and resting his elbows against the table.

“I think I did pretty good.” I smile, shoving my fork in.

He’s quicker than me, scooping up a big bite and shoving it into his mouth. His face twists immediately and my fork halts just before it slips past my lips. I watch as Krypt’s eyes widen and he shudders all over, as though he’s going to vomit. He leans forward and spits the eggs out.