Biker Chicks: An Anthology of Hot MC Romance (5 page)

At least there was hot water, for this I was grateful. It had been days since I had a real shower and gas station washrooms will only allow for a certain amount of personal hygiene. As I stepped under the shower head allowing the water to soak my hair, I thought again of my overnight companion. I was hoping this was his room. I prayed I could get out of here without footing the bill even if by chance it had been my hairbrained scheme to get a room for the night with a stranger.

The shampoo smelled like the bug spray that my gran used to use in the kitchen when I was little. It was a happy memory at least, those were rare. Cream rinse would have been a bonus, since my unruly hair hadn’t seen the inside of a salon in years. Come to think of it, a day at the spa would have been wonderful about now. But, that was the past. My life was different now.

“Bella?” a male voice asked.

I hadn’t heard that name in nearly ten years. It was bone chilling, but hearing it said in a low gravelly tone made it sound sexy, inviting even. This voice must have belonged to my new acquaintance. How he knew that name was a mystery. As sexy as it felt coming off his lips, I didn’t want to hear him say it again.

“Never call me that again!”

I popped my head out from behind the shower curtain and saw for the first time, sober, the face of my sleeping partner. Soft, gentle-looking blue eyes stared at me from behind thick, black lashes. He had jet black, spiky hair, trimmed short at the sides and back. But for the five o’clock shadow dusting his chin, he gave the impression of a preppy choir boy. Last night must have been something. How did I end up with him in a dump like this?

“That’s what you told me to call you last night,” he said, with a smirk, rubbing his scruffy chin. His voice almost didn’t suit him, it was the voice of a lifelong smoker, not this conservative man standing only a few feet away, naked.

“That was last night,” I told him, as my eyes mapped him from head to toe.

He had large shoulders, a muscular chest and beautifully defined abs. But it was the trail of dark hair from the center of his chest, along those sexy abs past his navel, trailing onward to his very large, thick member, that took my breath away. For a moment I kicked myself that I couldn’t remember sex with him. I was shocked that I was able to walk. There was no discomfort, maybe some tenderness, but when looking at the size of his cock, I realized I should have been in some kind of pain.

“Okay,” he grinned, taking hold of the shower curtain and slowly drawing it back. “What would you like me to call you this morning?”

Stepping into the tub uninvited, he rested his hands on my hips and waited. His eyes were studying my face, making me feel unexpectedly shy. He licked his lips when his eyes stopped on my mouth. He was moving in for the kill, his mouth had found its target and he was inching nearer by the second. At the moment just before his beautiful lips would make impact, I turned my head and he chuckled. “Bashful?”

“Bitch,” I told him my biker name, given to me by my Uncle Ace when I became his ward at the age of sixteen, after my grandmother kicked me out.

“I think I like Bella better.” He nuzzled my neck, moving his hand to my breast, giving it a firm squeeze, as a thrill raced along my spine causing a moan to escape me.

“If you value your life,” I whispered softly into his ear, before reaching my hand between his thighs and hearing his air cut off as I grasped hold of his balls. “And you happen to like your balls where they are, you’ll stop calling me that immediately.”

“Whoa, baby,” he chuckled, as he unclasped my hand, bringing it up to his mouth and kissing it. “Bitch it is.”

I was used to rough and tough sex, as well as being claimed with little to no consent for a quick greedy fucking by whoever at that moment. Thankfully, no one had staked claim to me, I was untamable, hence the reason I was graced with the name
Bitch
. This guy, he was the other extreme as he deliberately explored my body with great leisure. All kinds of thoughts entered my mind as his lips and hands skillfully played with all of my senses. Like, how did he know how to set me ablaze? Where did he learn to do that? And who in the hell was he and how did we end up in such a dump together? But that could all wait until he finished his exploration.

Holding each breast in his hands, he heaved them gently into one, sucking both nipples into his mouth and that wonderful tongue of his swirled around them until I grasped his hair and yanked him away. I wanted more, needed more and I wasn’t the kind to ask sweetly. He had the most adorable, yet greediest look in his eyes as he lowered himself to the floor of the tub, leaving a wet path down my belly with his tongue. I widened my stance knowing what he had in mind and wove my fingers in his hair. He wasn’t moving until I was good and ready to let him. He looked up at me, our eyes locked as he licked his upper lip and though I was standing under the shower head, the water pouring over me, I could actually feel myself getting wetter. This preppy dude was exactly what the doctor ordered. Strange I would find someone like him appealing.

“You best put that tongue to good use, preppy boy,” I snickered, shoving my pussy into his face. His brows knit together as he growled, clamping his hands on my ass cheeks, pushing his tongue deep between my folds.

“Mmm…” he moaned, causing me to smile before my head fell back and I tightened my hold on his hair.

“Oh, fuck!” I screamed, when his tongue discovered my clit and he flicked it with the tip.

Practiced hands played along the crack of my ass, stimulating my tight hole, as he lapped at my pussy and my legs grew weak. I pinched my nipple with my free hand, rolling it between my finger and thumb and felt my orgasm growing closer with a familiar tingle only I had ever caused, deep in my belly. He held me up, holding the back of my thighs as my body stiffened and quaked and my orgasm roared from me in glorious waves.

He removed my hand from his hair and kissed my palm. His erection was breathtaking, long and thick, heavily veined and weeping, and as I was about to drop to my knees to return the favor, he grabbed my hips and turned my back to his chest. His cock was pressed against my hip as he kissed the nape of my neck, and back and forth across my shoulders, while his fingers caressed my pussy lips and he nearly brought me to orgasm again.

“Fuck me,” I gasped, reaching my hands up to the shower head and holding it with a death grip.

“I intend to do just that,” he chuckled, lifting my one leg and teasing my pussy with the head of his cock.

“I don’t want to hear you talk about it,” I growled, tilting my hips for his invasion. “Just fuck me already!”

Chuckling into the nape of my neck he slowly fed the head of his cock into my opening and I let out a loud groan. He was big, I knew this, but the feel of all of him as he sank into me was exhilarating. I had never felt so completely filled by a man.

“You okay?” he stopped to ask.

“You fucking stop again to ask a stupid question and I’ll kill you in your sleep!” I yelled, pushing my ass back, forcing him inside me.

“There’s a romantic thought,” he snickered, shoving into me, causing the air to rush from my lungs, along with a satisfying moan.

“You got the wrong chick if you’re expecting anything more than a few quick fucks, my friend.”

He grunted, allowing my leg to drop as his fingers dug into my hips and he yanked me back with each forward thrust. My palms slapped against the cold tiles as I attempted to steady myself. He certainly didn’t fuck the way he looked. The preppy gentleman was now a furious beast snarling into my ear as if I was his prey of the day. Just when I thought it couldn’t get much better, he swirled his hips, rubbing the perfect spot deep inside me. Few had ever lit me on fire the way this man was. I couldn’t control my breathing, shrills roared from me like a crazed woman and I cried out
fuck yeah
like a broken record.

His fingernails scratched along my spine, his fingers fisting in my hair and yanking my head back. It was a surprising thrill that I hadn’t been expecting, neither was the hot sting on my bare ass cheek that raced straight to my pussy and forced my orgasm from me without warning. My body convulsed in waves of ecstasy tearing from me. It seemed to go on and on for several minutes, I had never had an orgasm like it or the feeling of complete satisfaction. I gasped for air, my lungs screaming to be filled when my not so preppy sex god pulled from me, leaving me empty, hollow.

Hot jizz splashed against the skin on my lower back, trailing between my ass cheeks before the lukewarm spray from the shower head washed it down the drain. He was trying to catch his breath, facing into my back, his lips touching the flesh between my shoulder blades with gentle moans and the threat of reigniting my fire. It was time to create a distance from this man.

Just as I turned the water off, his arm enveloped my waist and he pulled me against his chest, his lips touching the crest of my ear and all I could hear was his heavy breathing.

“Hungry?” he whispered.

My only thought at the moment was how to escape, how to get as far away from this man as I could. Because there was no way I was letting some preppy nobody into my private little world.

“Starving,” I told him, pulling from his hold and stepping out of the tub, grabbing a towel and tossing it to him.

“I’ll get dressed and see what I can find us,” he offered, and I gave him my best
you’re the greatest
smile before walking out of the room.

There was a reason I kept my hair fairly short, and this was it. I roughly combed my fingers through it and shook my head wildly, easy peasy, no fuss, no muss. Searching the room with my eyes, I spotted my jeans and t-shirt in a mound on a chair by the door. Quickly I got dressed forgoing the underwear since I couldn’t find them and I knew I didn’t have the time to be bothered.

“Got a preference?” Preppy boy asked, taking me by surprise.

“What?” I barked, sitting on the end of the bed pulling one sock on while I looked around for the other.

“Food. Would you like bacon and eggs or waffles, maybe a BLT?” he asked, slipping into his shoes after quickly dressing.

“I don’t care,” I said, and then thought for a moment, pondering what would take the longest to make. “Bacon and eggs sunny side up…and a large coffee, black.”

I swallowed back a nervous lump in my throat when he changed directions, and instead of walking to the door, he walked over and stood at my feet. He leaned over, lifting my chin with his finger and pressed his lips to mine, in a long steamy kiss that left me breathless by the time he was done.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“No.” I shook my head and he smiled.

Any other place, any other time and I would have hauled his ass back into that bed and screwed him until neither one of us could walk, or form a complete sentence.

“Thanks…” I stopped, when I realized I didn’t even know his name, and honestly it was better if I didn’t. “Just thanks.”

He left the room as I got to my feet and booted it around until I found my lost sock, my shoes and my haversack that I live out of. My entire life fit into that bag, including the lawyer’s letter telling me my Gran had died and I was expected for the reading of her will in a few days. Hitting the road was my only concern. Sadly, my gran and I had not resolved our issues before she passed away, but I’d have to live with that regret, adding it to the already heavily accumulated pile. Searching the inside pocket of my rucksack I located the locket Gran gave me our last Christmas together. I slid my thumb nail along the edge and forced it open. On the left side a photo of my parents, on the right a picture of me as a baby, a few months old I imagined. I snapped it shut and held it in my closed fist against my chest, allowing myself a few moments to remember the good times. Then I stuffed it back in the pocket and zipped it closed, heaving the bag onto my shoulder as I had a last look around before high-tailing it out the door, leaving it slightly ajar in case he had forgotten the key.

The one thing that my Uncle Ace did for me that I was truly was grateful for, was having a Harley custom built just for me. She was my baby, my pride and joy. She was a metallic black Sportster, custom painted with ‘Bitch’ in hot pink scrolling letters along each side of the gas tank. I stroked the warm leather seat and opened the saddlebag, stuffing my rucksack inside. I put on my helmet, wasted no time securing it under my chin, and then straddled the seat. I started her and smiled as I always did when I felt her rumble to life between my thighs. There was no other feeling like it, except maybe the wind rushing past your face at one hundred clicks. And you thought I was going to say sex, Hahaha!

My mind kept drawing me to images of preppy boy, my body kept reminding me how good he’d made me feel, as I tore along the tree lined back roads on my way home.

Home.

I hadn’t thought about my hometown in forever. Ten years of distance had made it feel like it wasn’t real, like I didn’t belong anymore, that I sure as hell had bravado to be returning after all this time. There was no one there for me now that Gran was gone, and I had no desire to stay any longer than I had to. My first plan was to go see the lawyer and get that shit out of the way, then I thought it would be a nice gesture to grab some flowers and go visit the old bird at the cemetery.

My stomach growled with ferocity, making me feel nauseated and a little dizzy. It was time for a break. I hadn’t had breakfast, not so much as a cup of coffee and now it was after three. Next stop, anywhere I could chow down some grub. It didn’t have to be five star dining, a bag of potato chips and a cola would suffice.

A road sign, not four miles ahead, read Macy’s Diner and I sighed as an image of a greasy cheeseburger with a mound of fries came to mind. My stomach let out a nasty growl as I pulled into the parking lot, parking close to the door.

Inside, it was quietly busy with mostly truckers mowing down on their food, their only distraction being the TV hanging in the corner, tuned to a news station. The closed captioning was on and classic country music was playing in the background. I stood for a moment or two, contemplating a seat at the counter between two obvious truckers or a booth by the window where I could eat without the possibility of carrying on an awkward conversation. I chose the booth.