Blood & Bones – Rook (Blood Fury MC #7) Read Online Jeanne St. James

Categories Genre: Biker, MC, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Blood Fury MC Series by Jeanne St. James
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Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 631(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
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Her pussy thumped like it had its own heart.

He wasn’t moving slowly but wasn’t moving quickly enough, either.

“Fuckin’ soaked,” he murmured from behind her.

Her arms tremored, her fingers curled slightly as she pressed her palms more securely against the glass of the mirror.

Tomorrow those handprints, like the bites, would remind her of what happened tonight.

What she allowed to happen.

She unlocked her knees as he used his foot to spread hers farther apart. The same way an officer did to the subject they were arresting and was about to do a pat-down.

None of his movements were gentle and all of them calculated.

Her bed, even her couch, wasn’t far away. But he didn’t want to take her there. He didn’t want to appear like he wanted this. That it was only sex between two people.

Because it was more than that.

This was a message to her. A reminder to himself. Both they were ignoring right now, but would reflect upon later.

When their minds were no longer muddled. When his cock was no longer straining against his zipper. When her pussy was no longer slick with wanting him. When her nipples no longer screamed to be twisted and plucked by his long, rough fingers. To be sucked deeply into his mouth.

Goosebumps swept over her skin as the jingle of his belt filled the pulsing space between them. The sound of his zipper being pulled down was deafening.

He did not rush. He took his time, drawing it out, stretching out that anticipation.

Maybe he wanted her to beg.

Maybe he wanted her to cry out for him. To him.

He wouldn’t get that from her.

But she would get what she wanted. She only needed to be patient.

The rustle of denim and whatever he wore underneath came next.

Then what she was waiting for...

The heat and press of his flesh against hers.

The sigh as he dragged the fat crown from her anus downward.

To where she was open and waiting for him.

Ready to accept him.

Waiting for that initial satisfying stretch.

Once. Twice. He dragged the head of his cock through her folds, gathering her natural lube, pushing the head against her anus each time, not breaching, and not quite a promise, but more of a threat.

Like he’d take her there instead, when she so wanted him to fuck her pussy.

His arm crossed her hips, becoming an iron bar, holding her still, his hand cupping her mound, his thumb searched for her sensitive, swollen nub.

He circled, flicked, pressed it, making her body jerk.

Every cell in her body pulsed with the need for him to take her.

Take her hard. Take her fast.

To give her the orgasm she was dying for.

But if he kept rolling and pinching her clit the way he was, she wouldn’t wait to come until he was—

He did it. He brought her there. That quickly. Without his cock inside her. With just his touch on her clit, with the burn of the bites on her breasts, with the anticipation.

She closed her eyes and let the waves sweep her away.

She had bitten back her whimper, her gasp, the rush of breath, so she had no idea if he knew she came.

But his hand was gone. It now controlled his cock again as he used the head of it to once again spread her wetness from her clit to her anus.

Then he smacked his slick, hard length against her ass cheek a couple of times, leaving stickiness behind on her skin, from her orgasm, from his precum. Using his other hand, he pulled one ass cheek away from the other, spreading her, opening her to his view.

Showing him all her vulnerability.

Right now, she wasn’t a cop. He wasn’t a felon.

She wasn’t a Bryson. He wasn’t a biker.

She was simply a woman. He a man.

Both wanting to satisfy the most basic need.

To forget everything but that very moment in time. That crack in the universe. Where on the other side, things were different.

Where it didn’t matter who she was. Who he was.

Two beings giving and taking what they wanted.

“Head up,” he growled. “Wanna see your face. Don’t you fuckin’ hide it.”

She lifted her head and her hair fell away so she could meet his eyes in the mirror.

What she saw took her breath away.

She was totally naked. Her cheeks flushed, her eyelids heavy, her mouth parted, her breasts hanging heavily with the nipples still puckered and the beaded tips pointing toward the floor.

In contrast, he was still completely dressed. Still wearing his cut. Most likely on purpose. Like he would get a perverse satisfaction of fucking her with it on.

When she opened her mouth, to demand he get naked, too, he stopped her before the words could even escape.

Again, as if he could read her mind.

“No. Wanna make sure you know who’s inside you, who’s fuckin’ you. Want you to watch me fuck you.”

With one thumb pressing her anus, he used his other hand to slide his cock down again, this time pressing his hips forward just the slightest bit.


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