Petals and Chrome: A Biker Erotic Romance (Flowers of Hell MC) (5 page)

BOOK: Petals and Chrome: A Biker Erotic Romance (Flowers of Hell MC)
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Reading it, I felt a weird pang of jealousy, deep down in my stomach, even though I knew I had absolutely no right to feel anything for him, whatsoever.
 

“Morning,” I mumbled, stretching and yawning.
 

I was back in the sleeping bag on the mattress, I realized. D must have carried me over in the night, while I was asleep, and I liked the image of that, imagining myself draped in his meaty arms.
 

I had a flashback to our early morning episode; remembering the feel of his thick cock pulsing in my mouth, and it seemed now to exist in that hazy unreality that dreams always have. I wondered for a moment if it had even
happened.
 

But then I noted that D was naked, his back to me as he scavenged some clothes from a tangled pile in the corner of the room … This time I was able to read the words beneath his rose tattoo clearly:
FLOWERS OF HELL.

“Listen, Rose,” he said, turning to me and stepping into a pair of tight white cotton briefs, his thick cock creating a meaty bulge as he pulled them up tightly around his hips, “I’ve gotta go out for a little while, there’s something important I need to do, so you’d better stay in here till I get back, okay? I don’t want anyone to know you’re here for now. Those guys out there … They’re not exactly friendly. Okay? You understand what I’m saying?”
 

I nodded.
 

“Whats the Flowers of Hell?” I asked.
 

“The Flowers of Hell,” D said, raising one eyebrow. “Well, if you must know, it’s the name of our club.”
 

Once he’d pulled on a stained vest and jeans, he moved over to a battered cupboard, the door hanging off its hinges, and retrieved a small pink suitcase from the top shelf of it.
 

“Here,” he said, placing the cheap, gaudy case down by the edge of the mattress. “There might be something in there that’ll fit you. I’ll be back in an hour.”
 

And then, before I could say anything else, he’d gone, leaving me huddled there in the dirty sleeping bag, listening to the silence for a moment, before it was broke by the vicious snarl of his bike’s engine as he sped away, down the dirt track, leaving me alone in the messy, sunlit bedroom.
 

§

Inside the case were clothes — women’s clothes, all way more slutty and slinky and revealing than anything I’d normally wear. Tiny little vests, tube tops, leggings, a couple of pairs of hot pants, and a large selection of skimpy g-strings. As I sifted through them, piecing together the best outfit I could, I thought again about that name tattooed into D’s neck: Roxanne. I guessed that these were
her
clothes and that she was … what?
 

Dead?
 

In prison?
 

Shacked up with some other biker guy?
 

Before I got dressed in this stranger’s clothes, I padded on through to the bathroom, finding a dirty stained sink and toilet behind the little door, and a rusting shower head dangling above a mildew-flecked cubicle. I cranked the taps and the shower creaked noisily into life, sprinkling down an anemic trickle of lukewarm water, which I stepped under gladly, soaping my body with a thin sliver of soap I found over by the sink.
 

There was no towel left in the little bathroom, so I padded back out toward D’s bedroom once more, planing to use the one he’d left on the floor in there, but as soon as I stepped out into the room, I froze in my tracks, the water dripping off my naked body.
 

Because there, standing right in the middle of the room were two huge, hulking biker guys.
 

They were both bigger than D; that burly, bulky place somewhere between muscle and fat. Both were tanned and tattooed. One had a long black goatee beard, and the other had a large spider’s web tattooed over the left side of his face.
 

I felt a pang of pure terror as I realized that they were looking at me with an unrestrained hunger in their eyes; the same kind of hunger I’d seen on that trucker’s face, back at the roadhouse.
 

Not again
, I thought, stricken once more with fear.
 

“Well, looky what we’ve got here,” hissed the biker with the beard.
 

“Looks like D’s been holding out on us,” the one with the spider’s web tattoo replied.
 

I took a step towards the towel, which was strewn in the corner of the dusty room, and both men flinched.
 

“Who the fuck said you could move?” the one with the beard snapped.
 

I became still once more.
 

“Hey, looks like she’s a natural redhead, Spider!” he cried out, his eyes now fixed on my pussy — on the small patch of my pubic hair, lit up by the morning sunlight.

“Well, isn’t that something,” Spider said, his eyes too moving to the place between my legs.
 

The two men both took a step towards me in unison.
 

“Say,” said the one with the beard. “You’re that cock-sucking slut from the roadhouse, ain’t ya?”
 

I nodded, petrified with fear, the breath shivering in my lungs.
 

“Well how about this for a deal?” he continued. “You suck me, while my friend Spider here fucks your pretty little asshole, and as a reward, we’ll let you live. How does that sound, baby girl?”
 

I parted my lips to speak, but all that came out was the dry click of my tongue, my mouth completely devoid of moisture.
 

I remained fixed on the spot, watching in terror as the two men unbuckled their pants and scooped out their dirty cocks. They were both already half-hard, obviously turned on from the sight of my young, naked body. Spider’s cock was short and fat, the shaft of it thick and round, ending in a small pale mushroom head, while the guy with the goatee beard’s dick was long and dark and thin, with a deep purple head. The two men stroked their meat, licking their lips as they took another step towards me, closing up the remaining space between us. I was preparing myself to do what I needed to — no chance of escape this time — my heart hammering, just wanting to stay alive, when I heard the door slam open behind me.
 

We all span around simultaneously.
 

There was D, standing in the doorway, dressed in his full leathers.
 

“Step the fuck away from her,” he said in a low, steady voice.
 

The two men looked to each other, then to D, their dicks still clutched in their grubby hands, then both bikers took one step back away from me.
 

D walked into the room, closing the door behind him with an icy, measured calm.
 

He fixed the men in the eye, one by one, before a thin venomous smile broke out on his face. “Let me take first crack at her, hey boys?” he said, giving them a wink.
 

He turned to me, his back now towards Spider and the other guy, and gave me a quick, serious look. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed.
 

I realized what was happening here: this was some sort of power play. D was obviously in charge, but he couldn’t let on to these two cretins that he thought of me as anything other than a simple piece of meat. He couldn’t let on that anything
tender
had actually happened between us.
 

So he took a step towards me, fumbling with his own belt buckle, and I felt a small wave of relief, knowing that at least it would be
him
who fucked me. I looked over his shoulder, at the two bikers, their hard dicks still clutched in their hands. They showed no signs of leaving the room. They were slouched up against the wall, lazily stroking themselves, their eyes taking in the scene, as D slowly approached me.
 

“Turn around,” he commanded.
 

I did as I was told.
 

He grabbed my wrists and directed my hands out in front of me, placing them flat against the wall, just above waist height.
 

Next I felt his leather boots nudging at the inside of my ankles, one by one, as he forced me to part my legs and step backwards a little, so that my back was arched, my bum sticking out towards him. I felt his hot hand on my neck as he pushed my head between my shoulder blades, bending me even further forwards.
 

There was a pause.
 

I looked back out into the room, from underneath my arm, and I could just make out the two figures of the bikers, standing over at the far wall, masturbating, and I could hear the jingle behind me as D freed up his cock from his pants.
 

I gasped as I felt his hot, rough fingers touch roughly against my exposed sex from behind, first slipping into my pussy which had become gooey and wet once more. Then I felt him work my slick fluids up towards my arsehole, slipping a finger into right it for a moment, causing a fresh shudder to run through me and another short gasp to escape my lips.
 

Then there was another pause, before I felt something else touch gently against my pussy lips. It was his hot, swollen cock head.
 

I gasped and whimpered as he slipped the first inch of himself into my tight cunt, stretching me wider than I’d ever been stretched before: this was a completely different experience to James’s pencil dick. I cried out again, my head hanging down between my shoulders, my wet hair dangling in my face, as he forced another thick, hot inch of himself inside me, his middle finger once more returning to my arse, slipping into my tight little bumhole, up to the first knuckle. The two bikers were pumping their dicks hard as they watched the scene, and I whimpered involuntarily as D pulled his cock a little way out, then slammed it right into my sopping cunt, right up to the hilt.
 

I ground myself back against him, and he slipped his finger a little further into my arse, too.
 

Then, he began to fuck me, hard, grabbing me and holding me now with both hands on my waist as he slammed his cock rhythmically into my tight pussy, with each stroke sending a fresh wave of pleasure around my body. His hands moved up to my breasts, tugging at my rock-hard little nips, my small breasts filling his hot rough palms as he took me, hard and fast, from behind.
 

Over by the far wall, I heard a low grunt, and looked over just in time to see Spider shoot a thick white rope of cum. It spurted in great jets from his swollen cock head, spattering in an arc onto the dirty wooden floorboards in front of him. The second biker came shortly afterwards, too, yelping ferociously as his own thin dick sent forth six big squirts of cum.
 

I could feel my own orgasm building and I focussed on it completely, grinding my ass eagerly back into D as he continued to slam his big thick cock into me. I reached between my legs and touched my fingers to my clit, which felt so swollen and hard, it surprised me a little. It was standing right out from my body, rock hard and engorged with blood, and I worked it with my fingers until I came, my pussy clamping and spasming around D’s thick tool, my orgasm causing a fresh wave of trembles around my tender young body. I whimpered and gasped as I came, and maybe it was this that caused D to come too, gripping my hips and thrusting his cock as far into me as it would go. I savored the feeling of it swelling and spurting its hot cum deep into my pussy.
 

Then, he tugged his cock roughly out of me and quickly buckled his pants, leaving me still bent over and panting, my arse thrust out towards the room, my hands still placed firmly against the dusty wooden wall.
 

“Okay, show’s over. Get the fuck out of here,” I heard D say to the bikers behind me in the same icy tone as before, and with grunts and mumbles, the two burly men shuffled out of the room, leaving us once more alone.
 

Chapter Eight

“I’m sorry about that,” D said, once we were alone, unable to quite meet my gaze.
 

“Don’t worry,” I said, softly. “I understood what was going on.”

“You did?” he said, a little surprised, his eyes flicking up to meet mine and his dark brow knitting.
 

“Sure,” I said, my voice still breathless. “You had to be a bad-ass in front of those guys, right?”

A small smile broke out on his face and he nodded. “Something like that,” he murmured. “Anyway, get dressed and then I’ll get you the fuck out of here.”
 

At this I felt something sink a little inside me, realizing that my adventure was almost over. Sure, it’d been fucking
terrifying
and a great part of me wanted nothing more than to be shot of this place completely, to be safely back in England, in Bristol, perhaps back at my parent’s house, tucked up snugly in my childhood bed. But then, another part of me felt alive: vibrant and buzzing and full of adrenaline.
 

I tugged on one of the g-strings from the pink suitcase, then pulled up a pair of leopard-print leggings. I completed my outfit with a black tube top, my nipples still rock-hard and poking out from beneath the flimsy material in prominent little peaks. Finally, I slipped my feet back into my scuffed up old Converse boots, and tied my hair in a high pony tail, using a dirty old scrunchie I found at the bottom of the suitcase.
 

“Are these things Roxanne’s?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the mattress as I tied up the laces of my left sneaker. As soon as I said it, I felt something change in the energy in the room, and D shot me such a vicious glare that I immediately wished I’d never opened my stupid little mouth.
 

“Forget it,” I said quickly. “Forget I said anything.”
 

“No,” said D, his voice softening. “It’s okay.”

He padded over and joined me on the mattress, sitting next to me and slinging his hot heavy arm around my thin shoulders.
 

BOOK: Petals and Chrome: A Biker Erotic Romance (Flowers of Hell MC)
12.64Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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