Outlaw Love (Motorcycle Club Erotic Romance) (Furious Sons MC Book 1) (2 page)

“I would love one. Today has not been my favorite day.”

He leaned in to me. I breathed in the manly scent of him. Like clean sweat, leather, and oil.

“The day’s not over yet,” he said. “Maybe I can help you turn things around.”

He gestured to the bartender. “Two more,” he said.

The bartender nodded and poured a couple more bourbons. My new friend grabbed his glass and raised it in my direction. “To a better day.”

The toast struck a deep chord inside me. “To a better day,” I said, a little choked up.

This time it went down easier. Instead of making me feel dizzy, the liquor smoothed out the jagged edges of my psyche. My anger towards Terry and my marriage and my life transformed into something else. I didn’t want to wallow in self-pity for the rest of the night. I wanted to do something wild. Something fun. Something just for me.

I turned back to my new friend. “So, stranger, what’s your name?”

“My friends call me Red,” he said.

“Oh, come on, that can’t be your real name,” I said feeling tipsy.

He looked back at me, anger flaring in his eyes. I felt a cold chill in my chest, realizing for the the first time that this man might actually be dangerous.

“I’m not saying that it’s a bad name,” I quickly said. “I just mean, like, your parents didn’t name you that, did they?”

Some of the anger faded from him. “No, the name’s Jack. But my friends,” he said, gesturing to the scruffy looking men by the pool table. “They call me Red.”

“And why do they call you that?” I asked.

“Because it’s the color of blood.”

I swallowed hard. He drained his drink and ordered another.

“Well, I’m going to call you Jack. Are you guys like a gang or something?” I asked.

“Not a gang. A club. A brotherhood.”

“Does this brotherhood have a name?”

He pointed at the patch on his vest that sat over his heart. “The Furious Sons.”

A shiver ran through me. “My god, that sounds so angry and violent.”

God, why was I so turned on all of a sudden?

He smiled grimly and shrugged. “We do what we have to do.”

“Sure, I get that. So are you guys like…” I looked around and whispered. “Criminals?”

He smiled at me. “Of course not.” Then he winked at me.

A slow song came on the jukebox. He drained his drink and grabbed my hand. “Let’s dance.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a command. I followed him.

He guided me to the dance floor. I had to hurry to keep up with his long-legged strides. We passed by the table where his friends were sitting. They hooted and cheered as we passed by. I felt my face turn red.

“Don’t mind them,” Jack said. “They’re just jealous that I’m dancing with the prettiest girl in the bar.”

He pulled me close to him. His hands held me firmly by the waist. I sank into his strong chest and swayed along with the music.

My heart was beating like crazy.

After five years of marriage, I never thought I would be out at a bar slow dancing with another man. It was so wrong. So viciously naughty.

My entire body tingled with electricity just being so close to this beautiful, strong man, like I had woken up after being asleep for years.

I was acutely aware of my breasts pressing against his chest. The feeling of it teased my nipples into hard points, making them feel more sensitive than they already were. He pulled me closer until my hips pushed into his. I could feel the length of him against my hip. It excited me.

The feeling of arousal I’d had earlier in the evening came back all at once like a great wave crashing down on me. It made my head spin and my pussy ache. I shifted against his cock, feeling it twitch, and I exhaled heavily, almost in a groan.

I wanted to grab his cock right there and tell him to stick it in me. To fill me up. To make me feel sexy again. To make me feel like I used to feel before Terry married me and took my life away from me.

I didn’t know if I was ready for that, though.

Still, I liked that I was turning him on. It made me feel good. And I liked that he was turning me on. It made me feel alive. But I didn’t know if I could go through with an actual affair.

Certainly, Terry deserved it. He had cheated on me first, and for a long time. I could fuck a hundred guys and not feel guilty. But that was a lie. I knew I would feel guilty anyway. Cheating on Terry would make me just as bad as Terry. Sure, he had been wrong first, but cheating was cheating.

Or was it?

My marriage was over. I would never go back to my husband, not after what he did. We were done. All that was left was to actually file the divorce papers.

My head started swimming. I pulled away from Jack.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Sorry,” I said. “I need to go to the ladies’ room.”

I staggered away on unsteady legs and pushed past the wooden swinging door to the restroom. Three sinks lined one wall. Only one of them was not completely filthy. I turned it on and splashed some water on my face.

Away from the music and the lights and away from Jack, I felt better. More like myself. More in control. I looked at myself in the mirror.

I saw two versions of me in the mirror. One who was scared and played it safe. The other who was daring and wild and wouldn’t take shit from her stupid cheating husband.

That’s the woman that I wanted to be.

The door whooshed open and Jack’s huge figure filled the door frame. I looked up at him, surprised at the interruption and feeling vulnerable. He stared at me for a moment, letting the door close behind him. Without saying a word, he walked over to me and planted a kiss on my mouth.

Chapter 3

I felt myself tighten up in fear, not expecting such a forward and intimate move by the man I’d just met. But his lips were firm and hot, and I felt myself melting into him. The passion I felt on the dance floor rose up in me, taking over my senses and my reason.

His hands found my breasts, massaging them with his strong, sure fingers. He teased my hardened nipples, rolling them between his fingers and pinching them. The pain was unexpected and exquisite. No one had ever pinched my nipples before.

I had been missing out.

I ran my hands down his rock solid chest and abs until I found the hardening length of his shaft. I stroked him through his tight jeans. He grunted. Blood rushed to his cock with every stroke. It grew like a living thing in my hand.

His hand slithered underneath my dress. He traced the line of my sex through the thin silk fabric of my thong. I hissed in pleasure at the feel of that thick finger playing with my silky folds. My thong was already damp with my arousal.

He pulled his wet finger up in front of my face. With a sultry smile, I wrapped my lips around his finger and sucked it as if it were his cock. I could taste myself, and it drove me crazy.

My hands fumbled with his zipper as he found my pussy again. He yanked my underwear aside and slid a finger inside me. I ground my hips into his hand, desperate for him. I found myself panting and moaning.

I slipped his cock from his jeans and wrapped it in both of my hands. The heat from his erection was like a furnace. I stroked him up and down, timing my caresses with the rhythm of his fingers inside my dripping pussy.

It had all happened so fast. I got carried away in the moment, and now I was stroking this stranger’s cock in the bathroom of a bar. The wildest sex I’d ever had with Terry was nothing compared to what was happening now.

Fuck you, Terry.

The sheer insanity of it added to the excitement. I felt myself slipping closer to the edge.

He pressed his palm into my clit as he fingered me. That tiny bit of pressure was enough to make me moan and gyrate my hips into him, desperate for more. I was so close. I could feel the pressure building inside me, aching to erupt.

He gripped my hair by the roots and yanked my head back. “I want to see your gorgeous face while I make you come.”

Something about his words and the feeling of his strong hands overpowering me sent me spinning over the delicious edge.

Fireworks exploded in my brain. My pussy clenched around his finger, and I gushed against his hand. I pushed my face into his shoulder to muffle my cries of pleasure. He wrapped his arms around me and held me while my orgasm shuddered through my body.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby,” he groaned. “Now wrap those pretty lips of yours around my cock.”

I dropped to my knees in front of him and took his cock into my mouth. He groaned and put his hands on my head, guiding my tempo. I swirled my tongue around the ridges of his head and tasted the saltiness of his precum.

He pushed my head further down onto him until the thick head of his cock was pushing against my throat.

I found myself gagging but I desperately wanted to take the full length of him. I relaxed my throat and took him all the way in. My eyes were watering and saliva dripped from my lips, but the grunts of pleasure coming from him were worth it.

He pumped his hips against my face, fucking my throat. I sucked on him, determined to give him the pleasure he had given me. His passion was savage and untamed, and I couldn’t get enough of it.

I felt him twitch inside me. His whole body tensed up and he shot hot loads of cum into my throat.

I pulled away from him. He slid from my mouth and the last few loads of cum splattered on my face.

Normally, I was disgusted by that sort of thing. I would never have let my husband come on my face. But somehow being in the filthy bathroom of a dive bar, getting face fucked by a strange biker, and having him come on my face just felt right. It made me feel like a dirty little whore, and that was exactly the way I wanted to feel at that moment.

I locked eyes with him and wiped his warm, dripping cum from my face. While he watched, I licked his fluids from my fingers. The sight of that seemed to turn him on even more. He yanked me to my feet and planted my ass on the edge of the sink. He dropped to his knees between my legs and looked up at me with a grin.

“It’s your turn,” he said.

He flipped my dress up over my stomach. For a brief moment, he stared at my pussy, drinking in the sight of my sex. Then he tore away my thong from my hips. He wadded them up and shoved them into my mouth like a gag.

I cried out in protest, but the sound was drowned out by my panties. I breathed in the scent of my pussy and I tasted myself in my mouth. To my surprise, I liked it. I left the panties in my mouth while he ate my pussy.

He ran his tongue up my wet slit then swirled it around my hard clit. I moaned against my makeshift gag and arched my back.

He sucked at my lips and at my clit roughly, almost like a wild animal. I gyrated my hips into his face, urging him on. Then he sucked on my clit like he was sucking on a ripe peach.

I couldn’t fucking stand it. Pleasure ripped through me. My body writhed beneath his expert mouth. My hands gripped my breasts and kneaded them roughly. My orgasm coiled up tightly inside me like a snake about to strike. I teetered on the brink.

Then pleasure burst inside me like a broken dam. The panties stuffed in my mouth barely muffled the sound of my scream. He lapped at my gushing orgasm as I writhed in sweet agony. Every tiny touch of his tongue caused me to tense up, my body too sensitive. I pushed his face away.

I collapsed back against the sink. The hard metal faucet poked uncomfortably into my back but I didn’t care. I spat my panties out of my mouth and struggled to catch my breath.

He stood over me, watching me with glimmering eyes. I reached up and grabbed him by his leather vest, pulling him down so I could kiss him. The multiple orgasms he had given me had kindled my lust instead of extinguishing it. I needed more. I needed him.

“Fuck me,” I begged. “Please, I need you.”

“You want my cock?” he asked.

I nodded.

He pulled away from me. “Say it,” he said. “Say you want my cock.”

“Please,” I whimpered. “I want your cock. I need your cock. Please. Fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before.”