Midnight Deceit Part 3

Fiona plunges further into danger - and falls deeper in love/lust with bad boy biker Jack Pollari, president of the Midnight Riders Motorcycle Club.

Villainous VP Louis Shaw is playing his own deadly game, and is on the verge of discovering our heroine's secret.

Fiona came to town to solve a murder. Will someone now have to solve hers?

Part 3 of the Midnight Riders series!

Steamy excerpt (Mature content):

    It started with the heat of his body. It radiated from his to mine, warming me, relaxing me. With what little I was wearing, and the sheets so cool to the touch, the extra heat felt good.
    Then there was his arm draped around me. His forearm was pressed against my breasts. Feeling his firm, muscular arm against the soft curves of my body made my nipples start to harden.
    In fact, anywhere his body pressed against mine was a luscious form of torture. I could feel his pecs pressed against my back… his massive thighs against the backside of my legs… his feet brushing the soles of mine.
    And then, about sixty seconds after he lay down and got settled… I started to feel his cock.
    At first it was just a little extra pressure against my ass. Maybe my imagination.
    Then, no, it became very clear that it was not my imagination.
    I could feel it as it began to grow… get longer… expand… as it went from soft, to semi-hard, to full-on raging erection, pressing seductively against my ass cheeks.
    I could even feel the head as it pressed against my lower back.
    “I thought you said you were exhausted,” I teased him.
    “I didn’t say I was dead,” he joked back. “You’re pretty damn hot, you know. Just give it a minute, it’ll settle down.”
    “Okay,” I said, slightly disappointed I was supposed to let it settle down.
    Even though I was exhausted… I didn’t really want to let it settle down.
    But I lay there for a few minutes and didn’t do anything.
    It didn’t settle down.
    If anything, his hard-on became more insistent. Pressing into my ass, poking into my back. Scorching skin, with the blood-hot heat barely lessened by the material between us. And occasionally it would spasm – one pulse, growing temporarily bigger and harder for a second, like one out of the twenty contractions he would have had during his climax.
    Every time I felt one of those contractions, it was like a sweet, hot, electrical pulse right to my pussy. My insides would flutter, and I would get wetter, and it felt like my clit got another five degrees hotter.
    Finally Jack sighed in my ear. “Okay, this is fucking torture.”
    I felt his hips pull away – felt that glorious, hot, stiff pressure pull away from my ass.
    “No,” I said sharply. “Don’t move.”
    “But – ”
    “Don’t move,” I ordered.
    He chuckled. “Neither of us is going to get any sleep if I stay here. I’m not, anyway.”
    “Don’t move.”
    He groaned softly. “Fine.”
    And I felt his hips move back into place.
    Felt that large, erect pressure slide against my ass.
    The friction even made his cock spasm again, once.
    It sent a jolt right to my pussy, making me wetter and hotter. My clit swelled even more.
    We lay like that for another couple of minutes, me listening to his breathing right next to my ear. It was such a turn-on… the light brushing of air over the strands of hair covering my ear… tickling me… like the lightest caress you could possibly imagine.
    I couldn’t stand just lying there doing nothing anymore.
    I began to very gradually rock my ass back and forth. Not far – we’re talking about a centimeter, maybe. Up and down.
    Stroking his cock.
    He grunted, an animalistic sound. “Fiona – ”
    I kept doing it, pressing my ass against his erection, caressing him with my body. I could feel his cock spasm again – but this time it stayed bigger for a couple of seconds, like it couldn’t stop being rock-hard.
    He grunted again. His breathing was heavier this time. “Fiona – ”
    “Shh.” Suddenly I quit moving. “Unless you want me to stop.”
    “No,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.
    “Then don’t move,” I whispered back, and started again.
    Except, though the pressure was nice, and the feeling of his girth and length was undeniable, it was all hidden away under multiple layers of clothing. My panties, my t-shirt, his boxers.
    I decided I had to fix that.

Copyright 2014-2016 Olivia Thorne
No part of this excerpt may be reprinted or reused without author's permission.

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