Free BROKEN WINGS: GODS OF CHAOS MC (BOOK THREE) by Honey Palomino Page B

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    I took a deep breath and stared into his teasing, tantalizing, arrogant eyes.
    “Please what, beauty?” he asked, stretching out his hand and pulling me up as I grabbed it.  He brought his face within millimeters of mine, his thick lips taunting me with his grin.
    “You know what I want, Slade,” I replied breathlessly.
    “Yeah, maybe I do,” he said, bringing his lips even closer to mine, impossibly close. “But I want to hear you say it.  I want to hear you ask for it, beg for it, beauty.”
    “Why?  Just, please Slade, come on,” I asked, pressing my breasts into him.  
    “Say it, Diana,” he grinned, brushing his lips against mine and pulling away when I tried to press my lips into his harder.  “You can do it, baby.”
    “You bastard,” I whispered, pushing on his chest, a tiny bubble of anger building up inside of me.  Why did he have to play these games?  He grabbed my hands, pulled them away from his chest, and pinned me against the wall once more, the entire length of his body pushed up against me, his throbbing cock hard and oh-so-fucking promising.
    He brought his mouth to my ear, whispering once again, his breath blowing hot against me, creating shocks of arousal that went straight to my clit.
    “Say it, baby,” he whispered, “say ‘fuck me, Slade'.”
    The throbbing cock was too much to bare.  I didn’t care about being quiet, I didn’t give a shit if Mrs. Johnson, the old lady who lived in the condo above me, could hear.  I pushed all my shyness away and did the only thing I could to get what I wanted.  What I needed.  
    “Fuck me!” I yelled, my voice coming out in a jarring shriek, instead of the sexy, sultry voice I was hoping for in my head.  “Fuck me, Slade,” I whispered, trying again, pushing against him, hoping he was attracted to me enough to forget about these stupid fucking words and give me what I needed, before I died from yearning.
    “I want your cock.  Inside me, Slade,” I said, pulling back and looking directly in his eyes before he flashed a quick grin and then did just as I asked.
    He kissed me, hard, long, sensuously, and then grabbed me by my hips, picked me up and carried me to my dark bedroom.  He didn’t bother turning on the light, and as he began to pull off his shirt and then his jeans as he stood in front of me, I was grateful for the thin sliver of light coming from the hallway.  
    His muscles shimmered in the low light, his tattoos slathered across his flesh like a masterpiece of pain.  My fingers found his chest, outlining the logo of the Gods carved there.  He reached down, grabbed my dress, and pulled it over my head swiftly.  
    “I’m so glad you forgot your underwear,” he said.
    “I never wear them,” I replied, which was only half-true, but he didn’t need to know that.  It’s not like I could go on television without a bra.
    “That’s my girl,” he replied.  I hesitated as he said that.   My girl?  I was his girl now?  No, what was I thinking?  This was Slade.  Of a fucking motorcycle gang, for fuck’s sake.  He probably called every woman that.
    But there was no time to think about that.  And frankly, I didn’t care.  Not right now.  Not in this moment.
    He pushed me back onto the bed, and I lay beneath him as he towered over my naked body. My eyes trailed down past his tousled hair hanging over his brow, his sultry eyes shooting daggers of pure sex at me and landing square in my gut.  I kept going, determined to drink in every inch of him this time, to remember at will, a keepsake of treasured photographs to flip through when he was gone.
    As if to remind me to ‘be here now’, as my yoga instructor would say, Slade’s cock twitched, my eyes shooting down quickly, past the flash of perfectly formed abs, the skin stretched smooth and tan across them, divided perfectly in half by a thin line of dark hair that pointed the way to his magnificent treasure.
    I bit my lip, my every cell singing