The Bare Bones (The Bare Bones MC) by Layla Wolfe

much sterner he would’ve gotten, but he saw I was only locking the door. People could do that if they wanted utter solitude, although security cameras ensured they weren’t doing anything untoward, like with dead bodies.
    I didn’t care. I stumbled back to where Ford sat low in the chair, one long muscular arm swinging at his side, his knuckles brushing the floor. Over his jeans, his other hand squeezed what looked like the thickest prick I’d ever had the pleasure to deal with, almost like another limb. I fell to my knees between his thighs, my fingers making quick work of his Bare Bones belt buckle.
    He pressed a palm against my forehead. “No.”
    No? Why no? What sort of man didn’t want a blowjob? What sort of man didn’t want a hundred blowjobs ?
    Sliding his hands under my arms, Ford picked me up as though I were a kitten and placed me in the chair I’d been sitting in. What the fuck? Am I not good enough?
    Encircling my thighs in his hands, Ford pinned me down with his fiery eyes. “I don’t want you to think of me like every other guy. I’ve never been every other guy, Maddy. Wearing this VP’s cut, everyone knows who I am. I stand out, just like I stood out in my SEAL gear. Different uniform, but still a uniform. And it gives me pride , Maddy. Pride. You talked Speed out of patching into Bare Bones, like we were some kind of scumsucking douches.”
    “No!” I cried. “I didn’t want him to patch in because I didn’t want him to be…” I had to stop there.
    Ford didn’t wait for me. His words tumbled out of him in an avalanche. “I’ve loved you since I first laid eyes on you, Maddy. When I kissed you in that pool I wanted just to throw you down and fuck you till jism seeped out your eyeballs. That’s how hot I was for you. I used to jack off in that garage thinking of licking your perfect, juicy tits. And it hasn’t gone away over the years. I still jack off thinking about you, no matter how many whores are in my house, if you can fucking believe that. And I want to do it right, not like every other asshole doctor who demands a fucking blowjob in some supply room.”
    How did Ford know about Dr. Kinsey? Had I accidentally told Speed?
    Now he got onto his knees in front of me. For a split second I was afraid he was going to ask me to marry him. Then I laughed at myself for such a whacked idea. As he talked so earnestly, he untied the bowtie beneath my belly button and urgently yanked my scrubs down. “Madison Shellmound. I’ve dreamed of tasting you for over a decade now. Give me the honor of burying my fucking face in your sweet trim. I will lick your delicious box until you cry for fucking mercy.”
    Any one of those words—tasting, face, trim, mercy, hell, even decade—was enough to bring me off. Ford hadn’t even touched my cunt yet and it was fluttering in a mini-orgasm. The entire walls of my inner pussy, up to and including my womb and ovaries, were clutching at an invisible cock. I speared my fingers through his glossy hair. He’d let it grow longer since the military and the lovely curls and waves just spilled over my fingers in shiny locks.
    I fiddled with his hoodie zipper, wanting desperately to see his beautiful chest again, but he’d yanked my pants and panties below my knees. He just dove in open-mouthed, his deep groans resonating so far into my innards I actually felt my uterus shudder.
    Crying out as though it hurt, I squeezed a handful of his hair. I lifted one bare leg and brought it over Ford’s shoulder. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. He was a cunnilingus expert—an unexpected talent in an unbreakable, tough-as-nails biker. One simply didn’t go down on whores, and nobody cared about pleasuring sweetbutts. Where in hell had he learned this skill?
    I couldn’t tell him his talent was being wasted. I was frigid.
    Incapable of orgasming with another man.
    That was probably why I gave so many blowjobs. Men never turned down a blowjob, and it took the focus off my own