Beautiful Outlaw by Emily Minton

His Colors

Shay

I look up to him, fear still strumming through my body.  “I think we should talk about this a little more.”

“We’ll talk after I fuck that sweet pussy.” His hand works between my legs, causing my jeans to press into my sensitive flesh. Each press of his palm steals my breath. I’m torn between trying to pull away and working my hips into his touch.

His teeth scrape along my jaw until he reaches my lips, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth. He bites down enough to make me gasp, but not enough to cause any real pain. He uses my moment of distraction to his advantage and thrusts his tongue past my lips, instantly tangling with mine. I’m quickly swept away by his fierceness until my tongue is fighting with his for dominance.

My anger fuels the feral need I have to show him I’m not some possession, but as his hand works my pussy over, the fear and anger melt away. Somewhere in the back of my mind there is still a protest. Something is telling me I should stop this, but no matter what that little voice says, my body knows who is in charge.  It’s ready, willing, and needy for Bowie.

“Fuck, baby. I need you naked,” he says while deftly working the button on my jeans. I sit up enough to shrug off the leather from my shoulders, and his hand pushes me flat on my back again, showing that he is in control.

His lips are everywhere- my neck, the swell of my breast. His teeth sink into the softness of my stomach, pulling my t-shirt up to bare my midriff to his mouth.  Then his tongue is trailing down while his hands push under my bottom, grabbing the waistband of my jeans and pulling them down my thighs. His hot mouth lowers until his breath is right against the silk of my panties.

“Damn, you smell so fuckin’ good, Shay,” he groans out while burying his nose into the wet material. The heat of his breath surrounds my sensitive nub, and my breath hitches. I’ve never felt anything like it before, and I’m overwhelmed from the pleasure.  His mouth is suddenly gone as he pulls my shoes from my feet, throwing them to the floor. My pants quickly follow.

Those deliciously rough hands run up my legs, completely avoiding where I need him most, stopping to pull my shirt over my head. His lips are on mine again. This kiss is gentler, but no less possessive. Cool air meets the heated skin of my breasts as my bra gets added to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. That talented tongue of his circles my nipple, and it instantly pebbles into a tight pink peak. He showers the same attention to my other nipple while his fingers pinch and tug at the first.

“Ah, God, Bowie,” I moan, my hands grasping at the back of his head then his neck, as he moves back and forth between my nipples, driving me mad. I pull on his shirt, and he gets what I’m trying to do.  He pulls away just long enough to drag it over his head, throwing it over his shoulder. My nails score his shoulders, and his hips thrust against me in reaction.

I reach between us and attempt to open his belt, but my fingers struggle in their rush to get him naked. He rises from the bed, toeing off his boots while loosening his belt, and in seconds, he is pushing his jeans and boxers down.  His cock juts out, long and hard.

As he crawls between my legs, my eyes are drawn to the white bandage covering his wound. “We shouldn’t be doing this. You could hurt yourself,” I murmur, running my fingertips lightly below the bandage.

A sexy smile, a smile that could make a woman’s panties melt off her body, spreads across his face. “The only thing hurting right now is my dick, but this tight pussy of yours will cure that.”

I reach up, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him down into a passionate kiss. He reaches down between us and tears my panties from my body. His finger slides through my slick folds, teasing my clit, before lowering and slipping inside me. He massages my walls while his thumb strums my clit, drawing a moan from my lips. I feel myself building toward an orgasm, but just before I tip over the edge, he pulls away. Before I can protest, his cock replaces his fingers as he rubs the head up and down my slit, covering himself in my wetness. “I’m going in bare, baby. Didn’t wrap up when we were in the shower, so I don’t see a reason to do it now.”

“Uhmmm…” I groan as his thickness pushes the barest inch inside me.

“I don’t do bare-back, never, so I’m clean.”

His words barely make sense. I’m completely mindless with need. “I can’t get pregnant. I’ve got an IUD,” I manage to say, even though the only real thought in my head is more.

He plunges into my pussy, each stroke getting harder and faster. “That’s good. We don’t need a baby, yet. Right now, I want to fuck you whenever and however I want.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he starts pounding into me. He pinches and tugs on my nipple, making me jerk away, but in moments I’m pushing my breast into his hand, wanting more. He abandons my nipple in favor of circling my clit. Every thrust is punctuated with a grind of his hips, and that combined with his fingers working my sensitive clit has my orgasm rushing forward like a freight train.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, baby. Gonna come so hard, fill this hot cunt up.” 

“Bowie, please,” I beg, my nails digging into his arms while my hips meet him thrust for thrust.

His fingers pinch my clit as his cock punishes my pussy.  Within seconds, I detonate around him. Without thinking, I sink my teeth into his shoulder, biting down to keep from screaming out my pleasure. He powers into me once, twice, three times, then buries himself to the hilt, and I feel his cock jerk as he releases into me.

He takes my lips in a gentle kiss, which is completely at odds with how he just worked over my body.  The tenderness is welcome, and I revel in it. Long moments pass before he rolls off me then pulls me onto his chest. I wrap my arm around his abdomen, careful of his wound, sighing in contentment. His fingers trail lazy paths up and down my spine, and even though I have no idea what’s going to happen now, I can’t stop the overwhelming happiness I feel in this moment.

Breaking the silence, I ask, “Will I have to wear your vest all the time now?”

His chest rumbles with his laughter. “It’s called a cut, babe, and no, you’ll get one of your own. It will take a while to get your leather made, so I want to take you to get my colors in the morning.”

“Your colors?” I question.

“I want my colors right here,” he says, running the pad of his finger just above my pelvis. “But we’ll get them on your arm instead. I want everyone to see that you are mine.”

When his words sink in, I realize he is talking about a tattoo. “You want me to get a tattoo?” My tone is incredulous. I can hardly believe what he is saying, but then, I do feel a bit like I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole these days.

“You will get my colors on you, no question about that.” His tone is final.