I'm not too fond of Christmas.
Even as a kid, my family never celebrated. What makes it worse now, is my friends, my club, trying to make me fit into a lifestyle that doesn't suit me.
I'm not a nice guy.
I don't like people.
Instead of feeling welcomed, their affection makes my skin crawl and sends me running on Christmas Eve. I find myself in the only place where people like me are the norm—From Dusk Til Dawn, the strip club owned by the Gypsy Bastards MC.
I'm here to drink, watch a few girls dance, and escape from everything my life has become.
That is until I lay eyes on Allegra.
All my plans are shattered as the brothel manager for the Cammareri family entices me. She is the one absolutely off-limits woman. She is the one woman I can't stop thinking about.
How much damage can one night of fun do?
The sun is shining brightly outside as I ride Bishop’s cock. He is sitting in the brown leather chair we started on last night. I stare out the window behind him at the clear blue sky as my orgasm barrels down on me.
“Fuck, babe,” he says with a groan, before sucking on one of my nipples. “You’re stunning. A fucking goddess taking my fat cock like you were made to do it.”
“Bishop.” His name comes out on a loud moan. “Please.”
“What do you need?”
“I … I don’t know,” I stammer.
“Lean back,” he says. “Hold onto the armrest. Go back as far as you can.”
I do what he says and moan loudly when the angle deepens his thrusts.
“If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say the word,” he says.
“Please,” I beg, once more.
His flat palm slaps me on my exposed pussy, making me freeze. I tingle as heat flows through my entire system. Do I like that? I don’t fucking know. He thrusts into me three times before slapping my sex again. A moan falls from my lips.
“Do you like that?” he asks lowly, his eyes dark with lust. “Do you want me to smack your pussy again.”
A sound falls from my lips that I’ve never made before.
Bishop chuckles as he flicks my clit harshly before pinching the nub between his thumb and forefinger.
Another orgasm pulls me under as I scream.
Bishop grips my waist, standing and walking over to the table where we ate mere hours ago. He pushes the dishes to the ground, plates shattering and cutlery clattering. He lays me flat on my back before thrusting into me brutally. The table shifts beneath his ministrations as he fucks me harder than he has the entire night. I know what he is doing, and I love it.
He wants me to remember this night. Tomorrow, when I walk or bend or breathe hard, I will feel him. I will remember who was inside me and who brought me more pleasure than I have ever felt in my entire life.
“I am going to be dreaming about this perfect, tight pussy for the rest of my life,” he says beneath his breath.
I’m not even sure whether he is talking to himself or to me. It doesn’t matter though. The words have a fresh wave of arousal thrumming through my veins.
He rips his cock out of me, slapping my pussy again. Hard. Three times in a row before spearing me again, sending another orgasm tearing through me. But Bishop doesn’t stop. He fucks me like a mad man, like he can’t stop. I feel intense pressure pushing down on my bladder, like I need to pee, and I push at his chest.
His gaze locks with mine as he fucks me harder.
“I need you to come again,” he says with a snarl. “I want your pussy to strangle my cock. I want to flood you with my cum while you scream my name.”
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