Savage Angels: A Savage MC Erotic Romance (5 page)

When he slipped his fingers up between her ass cheeks, held her ass in his other hand, put his thumb against her little ass, he pressed. He hadn’t bothered to take off her panties or the tiny cut-offs. There wasn’t much point, they would hardly get in his way. Then he pressed with his finger, cupping her whole pussy in his palm.
 

Pressing the mound of his thumb against the mound of her sex. She always thought of her mound as being a great big bulge. In his hand it felt tiny. He pressed her little star, and he moved his finger around it. Slowly burrowed his finger in. Pressed down a little more.

Then he lifted her off the table as he stood. Angelica put her arms over his shoulders and gripped her legs around his ribs. Tilted her pelvis up. The lips of her puss tingled on the hair at the bottom of his stomach.
 

The curls that led down to his cock. Her buttocks felt the bones of his wide pelvis. Her ass felt the head of his hard cock. He looked at her and said,

“You ain’t done this before.” His lips tightened very slightly as he said, “You ain’t done a whole lot of this before, have you. You sure ain’t no whore.” His eyes looked hard into hers for some time before he said, “No, you ain’t no whore. Lot of men will pay a lot of money to have you act like one, though.” Did his voice soften a little, or did she imagine it?

Maybe she was just dreaming. Catching a stale whiff drifting from one of the damned tele-novellas her Mama and her little sister Inez watch every afternoon. Or if not, if his voice really did soften a little, it was most likely a mixture of jealousy and admiration for the money that Jake was going to make out of her.

She said, “You mean if I act like I’ve been acting with you, American?”

“Mm-hm.”

“And what if I’m not willing to do that? What if I won’t do it with just whoever comes through that door?”

“We’re talking about hardcore MC brothers here. If they know you’re going to put up a fight, they’ll pay even more.”

Angelica’s lips tightened between her teeth. He said, “Well, we’re here,” and she clung on to him. Tight. Pressed her breasts against him through the ripped cotton. But he only pressed gently against her ass.
 

She tried to relax. That made it easier. But not much. Plus, she couldn’t really relax much. And her ass was tiny. And his cock was huge.

She said, “You want me to put up a fight, American?”

He stopped. Looked at her. His cock was just engaged at the opening to her ass. “Whatever you want. It’ll be okay with me.”

Then he pressed in. He slid into her ass and out, and deeper in, and slowly out, and on. The strokes got faster and harder, and he got harder, and her ass hurt like hell.
 

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t like it, she did. She liked it a lot. She was getting to like the scent and the velvety skin of this hard American. But she saw no reason to let him know any of that if she could help it.

Gripping on tight to him with her thighs, she stretched back. He put out his hand out along her back. And he rammed harder in. It ached and burned, but through the pain was a thrill that she hadn’t ever felt before.
 

Something deep. And dark. But strong. It was like an echo of something from long ago. Impossibly long ago.

Then he lifted her off his cock. Lifted her like she was a bag of sugar or a cake. She couldn’t imagine this rough biker with either of those things though. So like a what? A bag of money, probably. Dirty dollars in bundles of thousands.
 

He pulled out of her ass, and slipped straight in to penetrate her dripping hot puss. She felt like she had exploded. She wrapped her arms tight around him, squeezed with her thighs.
 

She rode him as hard as she could. She was so ready to cry, and she really didn’t want him to see that. The thought made it harder to hold back. Her hands slid into his shirt. Her fingers snaked around to the ridges of into his back. Dug her nails in. Dragged on his flesh.

Didn’t seem to make any difference to him. She drew back and beat on his chest. Flailed her fists at him as hard as she could. He kept right on, his huge cock filling her up, hard, hot and pounding into her. His thighs slapped against her soft cheeks, still raw from his cock.
 

Angelica beat wildly on his shoulders. His rhythm didn’t change. She slapped her hands on his face. Over and over. As fast and as hard as she could. He didn’t twitch.
 

But the effort, while he was fucking her, so deep, so hard, while her hips, her treacherous little woman’s body, while her hips slid lasciviously along the length of his long, fat cock.

The more she beat him, the closer she was to crying.

She sunk her teeth into the top of his shoulder. He still didn’t seem to care. And rage was the only defense she had against the well of tears so close to bursting.
 

So she rode his cock as hard as she could and through her teeth she shouted into the hard, muscled flesh of his shoulder, “Fuck me. Come on, American. FUCK ME!
FUCK ME NOW!
”

The orgasm blasted into her like the Pacific smashing against high granite cliffs, breeching through vast, ancient caves, like a tsunami bursting into a bay, filling and consuming the coves and crags of the coast with white, raging foam.

Lying back on the table, Angelica could hardly move. She ached all over, but all of her muscles sang. Never before had she felt anything like that. So powerful it almost felt religious. Maybe because she was exhausted and hadn’t eaten properly since the wedding.
 

Whatever it was, it left her unbalanced. Confused. She felt drawn to this big biker like a father. Like a savior. And she knew that he wasn’t going to be either. Not for her.

The sound of boots came from outside. Then a bang on the door and a rough male voice, “You done, bro? Ready to go?”

Not taking his eyes off her, the biker said, “Ax there?” Another voice came from behind the door,

“We’re all set, bro.” The biker called back,

“Ax, take the merchandise and stack it in the cage. Call the geek and get him over. Don’t let anyone start to open anything before I get there.”

“You got it. See you back.”

“Ax?” the biker called again, insistent, “Nobody opens anything. No exceptions. Clear?”

“Aye. You be far behind?”

“No, I won’t be long.”

As he fastened his silver buckle he told Angelica, “I hate to think of you being manhandled, mistreated and mauled, just to put money in Jake’s pocket,” he looked at her for a long time. Looked her over again.
 

He said, “Seems tragic when you could fill my pocket instead.” She watched the emblem on his back. And she watched his ass. As it moved in the soft leather, she wanted his cock again. And then the door closed behind him.

She must have slept, but not for long. There were sounds outside the door. The biker pushed the door open. The one with the red bandana and shades came into the room ahead of him, saying, “So, this gonna square us, right? The bust, Carter, the package you say you were short, we gonna be all squared away on that now. Right?”

“All square. Only today’s thing left to complete.”

“Brother, you paying a high price for a piece of tush. Let me take another quick look, okay? You sure she ain’t got diamonds in her pussy or a pound of crack in her bra? A weight of grass up her ass, maybe?”

“This deal didn’t suit you, you wouldn’t be doing it, Jake. No more fucking around, okay.”

“Okay, bro. She’s all yours. We’re good.” They clasped hands, locking their thumbs, embraced with their other arms and patted each other twice on the back. It was like a dance.

The biker was leading her from the room. Whether this was taking Angelica to a better situation, she had no way to know, but the biker looked to her like a better bet than Jake in every way.
 

She pushed away the thought that she had never experienced orgasms anything like those he’d given her. Whatever else, she was sure he was a pimp just like Jake. Allowing her emotions to get tangled up with him would probably not lead to a happy ending.

As we neared the door she started to say, “My sister...” and realized immediately that it was a mistake.

Jake grinned wide as he said, “Oh, you got a sister?”

Jake learning that Inez was Angelica’s little sister, it wouldn’t do her any good at all, or Angelica either. Thinking fast, the best she could come up with was, “I gotta call my sister. Let her know I’m OK. And I want to know how her test went.”
 

Maybe she went too far. From law school she remembered, the more detail a witness offers, the more likely they’re lying or trying to hide something. Either one of those lies should have been good. Saying both could have been too much and she may have given herself away.

Jake said, “It’s okay, I’m sure Bogart will let you use the phone in your suite. You gonna put her in the penthouse, right, Bogart? With the rooftop infinity pool? You gonna let her use the chopper?”

Bogart. So that was what they called him.
 

Bogart said, “Don’t worry, Jake, she’ll be on a chopper night and day. She’s headed straight for the panthouse.”

Out at the back of the shed, in darkness again. Seemed like the sun had taken a vacation. “Hold onto here,” he pointed at a grab rail below the seat of the huge motorcycle. Angelica clambered onto the back of the saddle and grabbed the chrome rail and he flicked a pair of cuffs over her wrist, chaining her wrist to the bike’s rail.
 

He said, “If I’d expected a passenger, I’d have brought the Softtail. The Sportster’s higher, less of an easy ride. Just hold on, lean when the bike leans, go where the bike goes.” He swung his legs over the front of the bike, sat and turned the key.

The engine burst into a crackling roar beneath us, with a steady pulse from the pipes behind. The thing jerked forward and she didn’t think that she was going to be able to hold on. They rode for what seemed like hours to Angelica.
 

With both hands gripping on to the grab rails under her ass, Angelica’s arms felt like they had turned to ice. Her legs were freezing so much in the wind that her knees shook violently for the whole trip. The rags of the tee snapped and flapped around her bare breasts.

The bike’s powerful engine thrummed underneath her. Reminded her of her Mama’s tumble drier, the way it shook her. Only, Mama’s tumble drier did that because it was a cheap appliance.
 

It shook because it wasn’t made well enough not to. This thing, this bike, it vibrated with a precision, speeding up, slowing down. Always with a force. And a beat.
 

This machine rocked her clit and her pussy and her insides, it even made her breasts shake. And it did it like it meant it. The feeling of his ass, like steel balls between her shaking thighs did nothing to lower the effect.
 

That whole journey Angelica was freezing and almost edging at the same time. Most uncomfortable ride she ever had.

Eventually, they came to a big roadhouse in a blasted crater of dry scrub. The red neon over the entrance said,
HELL’S KITCHEN, BAR & GRILL
. A heavy metal thud oozed out through the walls. Several bikes leaned outside, plus a number of pickups and a big container rig.