Old Man's Ride: Dust Bowl Devils MC Read Online Free PDF Page A

my home than fuck a biker, wanted Nomad to fuck me hard and fast. Wilhelm, I reminded myself, Mr. Green.
    Whatever his name was, he was kissing his way down my torso. He made quick work of my soaked panties, tearing them down and letting them drop to the floor. I watched his eyes as he drank in the sight of my glistening sex. He traced the wet, pink skin with a light touch. Goosebumps rose on my arms. I wanted to beg so badly.
    “ You’re beautiful,” he said. His eyes met mine briefly as I said it. I felt like I was glowing.
    “ Thank you,” I whispered. I don’t know if he heard me - my words were cut off as his mouth found my pussy and his tongue swept up through my velvet folds. I draped my legs over his shoulders, urging him closer. My fingers dug into the sheets; I tensed as he licked me from top to bottom and back again, his tongue scaldingly hot. He was methodical, lashing every inch of my pussy with abrasive wet swipes while deliberately avoiding my most sensitive places. A moan slid from my lips and didn’t seem to end.
    When his tongue found my clit, my hips bucked. The touch sent a sharp bolt of pleasure through me, like an electric shock. His finger slipped inside my hot and creamy channel. I arched towards him with another yelp, silently begging for more.
    With a note of warning, he said, “Don’t come.”
    Oh, God. That was going to be impossible. I was on the edge already, my body a roiling storm just on the verge of breaking. “I’m close,” I whined. He slowed his finger’s movements inside me and withdrew his mouth’s attention. I moved with him still, panting, but getting a grip on my racing heart.
    Just when I thought I’d regained composure, he added a second finger. I moaned as my inner walls stretched for him; he moved them in and out of me at an infuriatingly slow pace, no matter how I bucked my hips. He watched my face, his own eyes dark, cheeks flushed. He’s loving this. He was playing me like a fiddle, controlling me like a conductor. “Don’t come,” he said again, then lowered his face and sucked on my clit. His finger pumped faster, harder. I tried to think of other things, to picture calm lakes, dry deserts, blue skies and fluffy clouds, but the images dissolved and all that existed was his assault on my pussy; the deep, hard surges of his fingers, the wet lash of his tongue on my sensitive button. My climax was building again, at a pace I never thought possible. I’d never be able to stop it.
    “ I’m close, I’m close, Oh, God,” I chanted, squeezing my eyes shut. “I can’t, I’m so close-” He backed off again, slowing and sitting back. The loss was actually painful. Being on the knife edge of an orgasm, only to have it taken away was pure torture.
    Just what was he doing? What did he want? Despite all his talk about not being like Bill, the Dust Bowl Devils were a bargaining people. Nothing was free. But what could I give him?
    Surrender . I'd been following his orders, but just barely. I knew I still wore worry on my face. I was the very picture of tension and stress most of the time, and even now I knew my shoulders were tight, my thighs were stiff, my fists clenched. He wants me to surrender to him. To submit to this .
    I wanted to. I really did. It was just so hard, after spending so much of my life fighting for some modicum of control. And look where it got me . So I took a deep breath, and let go. Home was far away; my problems were far away. Right now, I belonged to Nomad. Nothing else was important. Here, now, there was nothing to worry about. Nomad would take care of me; he would give me what I needed.
    He noticed the change right away. "That's it, honey." He licked me again, slow and sensual. He eased my internal ache, pumping his thick fingers deep, stroking my g-spot, that deep place of heightened sensitivity. Sparks shot through my body, sharp and hot bolts of euphoria sizzling my veins. I teetered on the edge of the explosion, but it held itself at