Rage is the residential psycho of the club. Tormented by his own demons he lives in pain and agony, a constant state of rage. Everyone knows him as the Hellhound of the Riders of Tyr , known for his cruelty and the joy he gets from causing pain. To...
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Rage
I am losing the little control I have over me as climb up to Iris's lips. That girl is breaking me into thousand pieces and instead of being scared shitless, all I can think of is that only she can make me whole again. All I wanted to do is show her I don't mind her scars. I got scars on my own, covered by tattoos but still there. I wanted her to know she is the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
Never in my life had I ever thought that I would go down on a bitch before. All I knew was bitches going down on me, leaving me empty. But this time it was different. Her scent was more than the coconut essence I usually smell in her. It was more, it was deep and sweet, irresistible. I had to taste her, lap up that amazing smell, take her essence for me, only me. Seeing Iris so taken and sensitive drove me crazy. Her sweet taste, her soft sighs, the way she tagged my hair was the best thing I have felt. And when she lost it, pressing my finger between her folds, I knew it wasn't enough. I need to have it all. All of her to myself.
"Rage," her eyes are swimming in a hazy lake as I reach her lips.
I got a lump in my throat so I decide not to talk, using my tongue in a different manner. I enjoy kissing her so much that I could do that shit all day if I didn't know it's lame. But at this moment kissing is not enough. I have to be inside her or I'll snap. If there was an army between me and her, I would kill all of them just to find myself entangled between her thighs. She kisses me back and slowly opens for me enough to slip inside her mouth. Her tongue touches mine, soft and delicate and my already erect dick jolts in my jeans. Without even knowing it I am rubbing myself against her feeling the heat of her pussy through the jeans. But the sensation, intoxicating as it is, isn't cutting it. I need more. I need to be inside her.
The thought cripples me. I stop moving, stop kissing and I push myself up, away from her. Iris is taken aback and her eyebrows frown. I hate it when she is frowning. I want to always see her smile. But I am constantly afraid I'll be the one to take the smile off her perfect lips.
"What's wrong?" she asks and her hand touches my face.
Had I known then how soft her touch would be, how liberating and healing, I would have taken that hand the moment she walked in the bar and never let it go.
"Rage?" she persists and kisses my arm.
I can't go there. I have never done that shit before. Sure, I've shoved my dick down the throat of rotters but that's about it. I've never kissed before Iris and for sure I've never fucked anyone ever. I've seen my brothers do it all the time, in public, I know how things work, but it's not the same thing. Suddenly Iris is too close, her touch burns me and fear dominates my soul. A whisper caresses my ear, warning me, telling me that I do not get to be happy and no one around me ever does, too.
"Fuck!" I hiss and I try to leave her.
But my body doesn't budge as if having a will of its own. Iris does move under me as she pushes closer, lifting up her body to touch more skin with hers. Her big eyes look at me and I can't resist her. All whispers stop instantly. She is the fucking one and I can lie to myself all I want but that won't change a thing. I could leave and put miles between us but I will always be hers and I'll be damned if she isn't mine. Mine. My Iris since day one.
