Born to Ride: A Biker Erotic Romance (Blue Mustangs MC) (3 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

How many rides had she been on in her life? Thousands? Hundreds with men who weren’t a relative. None of them affected her the way this ride did. From the moment she’d settled in behind Christian, she knew it was different.

At first she’d kept her distance; or at least as much as possible. Then he’d hit the curve at the end of the road to the clubhouse and poured on the speed, forcing her to snug up and hang on.

The night was hazy and heavy with heat, the humidity almost unbearable. Even with the air generated by the ride, the area where their bodies touched was soaked with sweat. The pure male scent of him combined with the honeysuckle sweetened air was doing a number on her. She was sure that he could feel the hard tips of her breasts rubbing against his back. It was one of her girlhood fantasies come true.

The road to the pond came up and Sandy breathed a sigh of relief. She needed a break before she embarrassed herself any more. She hopped off the minute he stopped, pulling her helmet off and shaking out her sweat-dampened hair, her legs wobbling.

“You alright?” Christian asked, pulling off his helmet and swinging his leg over to sit on the seat sideways.

Color rode her cheeks at his question. He’d obviously noticed the shakiness in her legs. “I’m fine, just overheated I think.”

He tossed her a bottle of water from the pack on the side of his bike. “This is the hottest summer since I moved here. That’s saying a lot, considering it’s always hot here.” He watched her throat work as she gulped the water. “At least it’s slightly cooler down here by the water.”

She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and tossed the bottle back to Christian. When he took off the lid and put his lips around the mouth where she’d just had her own, she had to look away.

He capped the water bottle and stuck it back in his pack. He was having a hard time getting himself under control, and if he stood up right now he’d make a fool out of himself. How could he not react when she’d snugged those tight thighs up around his and pressed her hard nipples into his back? He’d felt the way her breath got rough the minute she’d gotten close.

“My Daddy has warned me to stay away from you.” Her voice was husky and low. When he looked up she was staring off at the water, her hands in her pockets.

“Your Daddy warned
me
to stay away from
you
.” He stood and took three steps, close enough to reach out and touch her, far enough that she could easily stop him. “Wonder why he’d feel the need to do that?”

She couldn’t answer that question honestly. Not without betraying what her Daddy had said, and she wasn’t going to do that. Thunder rippled overhead and she looked up, the first drops of rain hitting her face.

Within seconds the sky opened up and lightning crackled a little too close for comfort. Christian grabbed her hand and ran for one of the picnic shelters. They were soaked by the time they got there and took cover.

Hopping up on the top of the picnic table, Sandy pulled the hair back off her face and tried to wring some of the water out of it. “Hell of a time for Mother Nature to decide to do some watering.”

She was completely unaware of how naturally sexy she was. She’d laughed happily at being caught in the rain, running through it like a kid, never once screaming about her hair getting ruined or her clothes getting wet.

Without conscious thought, Christian moved in close to her. Taking her face in his hands, he roughly took her mouth. Her hands dropped from her hair and grasped his wrists tightly. A moan rolled up her throat and into his waiting mouth. She tasted like cinnamon, spicy and a little sweet.

Breathing hard, Sandy pulled back. “This is a really bad idea.”

“Best idea I’ve had in years,” he replied, taking her mouth again, sweeping his tongue inside and exploring slowly.

She wasn’t shy when it came to sex. Never had been. Maybe it was because everyone in her life had been so matter-of-fact about it. It felt good, and done right it was safe for everyone involved. Still, this was the man who’d played center stage in every fevered dream fantasy she’d had since the age of nineteen when he’d walked through the door of the Blue Mustangs club with tight leather pants and a bad attitude. A man who, up until yesterday had acted as if she hadn’t existed.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her bottom to the edge of the table, fitting his hips snugly into hers. Her hands dug into his sides for leverage to pull herself even closer, rubbing her aching breasts against his chest. His deep moan was a reward, and she wanted more.

Breaking away from her lips, Christian pushed her down, gritting his teeth when she wrapped her long legs around his hips. He yanked her shirt up and pulled her bra down, cupping her handful-sized breasts. She squirmed, and the seam of her jeans ran up his denim covered erection. He could feel how hot she was through both layers of clothing.

She rose up on her elbows slightly, just enough to watch him touching her. His hands were rough against the smoothness of her skin, and watching him was insanely erotic. His eyes were focused on her and dark, so dark. It was a look she’d dreamed of seeing so many times, but this was all wrong. “Stop.”

Christian immediately took his hands off her and placed them on the tabletop on each side of her. “You okay?”

She shook her head. “I can’t do this, Christian. Please take me back.”

“I didn’t intend to do this.” He stood up straight and stepped back, giving her some room to fix her clothes back.

She pulled her bra up and top back down and held out a hand for him to stop. “I know you didn’t. That’s not the problem.”

“Atticus?”

“It’s hard for me to just disregard his wishes. I don’t know what’s going on with you two, and so that’s another issue I have to take into consideration.” She climbed down off the picnic table. “I’m not sure I can start something with someone my Daddy hates so much.”

“I get it. I’m not good enough for the old man, so I’m not good enough for you either.” He wasn’t mad, just tired. So tired.

Sandy walked right up to him and looked him dead in the eye. “I have no clue if you’re good for me or not, Christian. I don’t know
you
. I know what people have said, but that is rumor and I’m not so dumb that I would put stock in rumors—or the people who spread them.”

Her eyes were spitting fire. He’d pissed her off by accusing her of being like everyone else. He didn’t want her to be like all the others. He didn’t know why, he just knew he wanted her to be more. “I’ll take you back to the club.”

She nodded and gathered up her things, following him back to the bike. This time when she got on there was no shyness. She moved in close and wrapped her arms around his waist as if she’d ridden with him a thousand times.

He liked the way she felt, the way she laid her head on his back. She might have doubts, but she felt something for him already. He was going to work on her, and Atticus could either deal with it or explain to his daughter exactly why he hated Christian so much.

They got back to the club sooner than he wanted. He got off the bike and helped her off, retrieved her bag from his pack, and handed it to her.

“This isn’t over, Sandy. I can be patient when I want to be.”

“I never thought it was over, Christian. I thought it was just beginning. Be here tomorrow night after you get off work. That tattoo isn’t going to ink itself.”

“You never showed me the design.”

“Nope, and I’ve decided I’m not going to. If you show up, I’ll give you the best ink you’ll ever have.” She put a hand on her hip and shot him a look that was pure challenge. She knew exactly how to get to a man like Christian.

He took the bait. “I guess we’ll see what tomorrow night brings.”

“Goodnight, Christian.” She turned and unlocked the door to her shop. “Thanks, for the ride.”

“My pleasure.” He kicked his engine over and took off, waving at her on the way out.

*****

From the window in his office upstairs, Atticus watched his daughter eyeing the man he hated ride away. She had a soft look on her face, one he’d seen there back when Christian had first come here. He’d sent her away to school hoping Christian would get himself attached before she returned. He hadn’t, and now she was back, still looking at him that way.

He’d been afraid that a simple warning wasn’t going to keep Christian away. He picked up the phone and dialed a number he hadn’t used in years.

“Nick, it’s Atticus. I need you to do a job for me.”

CHAPTER SIX

Friday went by faster than she’d expected. Sandy went apartment hunting in the morning, then opened the shop. She had two customers; a Mustang with a faded out tat that needed new color, and a towner who wanted a small butterfly tat on her shoulder blade. Neither appointment took long, so she spent the rest of the day hanging out with Mariah, helping prep and chopping vegetables for the dinner menu.

She managed not to obsessively watch the clock once it reached five o’clock. She took her dinner and a tall glass of tea back to the shop with her. Just in case.

She hadn’t seen her Daddy all day, but that was nothing unusual for a Friday. The Blue Mustangs had a ride nearly every weekend, which required a lot of organization and paperwork. Especially on weekends like the one coming up: a community in the next town over was having a fundraiser for a child who’d developed a rare form of brain cancer, and the Blue Mustangs were going to ride to collect donations.

Riding for kids was one of Christian’s contributions to the club. Usually they only did donation runs for members of other clubs who were hurt or ill and needed financial assistance for medical bills. Christian had pushed her Daddy to do the runs for sick kids in the area for two reasons: it was good for the community, and it improved the Blue Mustangs’ image with law enforcement.

A big part of the animosity between Christian and her Daddy had to do with their approach to the opinion of the public and of law enforcement. Daddy just didn’t give a damn what anyone thought and felt they were mixing too much with the towners, becoming less exclusive. Christian worried that the recent upsurge in certain TV shows and books depicting bikers as nothing but druggies, dealers and murderers was going to harm the good they did. He felt having a little more positive contact with law enforcement and locals would help.

Sandy had been raised by Atticus Rivers, a child of the sixties with a natural suspicion of authority and an arrest record as long as her arm for assault and battery, drunk and disorderly, and careless and imprudent driving. He felt the police targeted bikers because they lived outside the norms of society and formed tight knit groups that were treated more like gangs than a group that was only out to protect others like themselves.

Being Atticus’ daughter had gotten her some flack in her teen years. Certain girls in school had ridiculed her for her Daddy being a biker and a criminal. She’d gotten into more than a few fights, but she’d gotten good grades and learned to walk away from the kind of girls who were out to make a name for themselves by using her as a punching bag.

When she’d first started riding solo, she’d been pulled over a few times, nonsense stops that had pissed her Daddy off. They hadn’t pissed her off. She’d stayed calm, done as she was asked, and was always sent on her way with a respectful word from the officer.

Then there were the towner boys. There were two types that talked to her: those who thought hanging around her would make them look tough, and those who thought that, because she was raised with bikers, that she was easy. A real slut. It had made dating in her teen years especially trying, but she’d learned to spot the types easily enough and avoid getting her heart broken.

Of course, no boy had ever been good enough for Atticus’ little girl. She’d managed to hide the existence of her first boyfriend for almost a year before she’d slipped up and gotten caught. Daddy had scared the boy so badly he’d hidden from her for three weeks. It was funny now… not so much back then.

Her other two serious relationships had happened in the past two years while she was away at school. Daddy’s influence didn’t reach that far, and she’d been free to date and explore what type of relationship worked for her. Of course, none of the boys she’d dated had come close to comparing to Christian Belz.

She worried at times that she was never going to convince her Daddy that she was mature enough to handle her own life. He was overprotective by nature. It was partially because he remembered what he’d been like at her age: young, dumb, and full of cum. It was also because the idea of raising a daughter, alone, had terrified him. It still terrified him.

He’d compensated by raising her the way he’d raise a son. He’d taught her to shoot a gun, ride a bike, play darts and pool, handle her whiskey, and fight. In the midst of all that, Mariah had been there to teach her how to do her hair, dress up, put on makeup, buy her first bra, and act like a lady when she wanted to.

All in all, Sandy felt she struck a decent balance between hellcat and lady. Through it all, she’d had her art to get her by. Her birthmother had been an artist, or so her Daddy said. As she’d gotten older and her tastes had changed, so had her art. Then she’d discovered a tattoo gun. After that, all the other forms of artistic expression had fallen away. Her love of tattooing was all encompassing.

She looked up at the clock, her food half-eaten on the plate, and admitted that she was worried he wasn’t going to show. No matter what she tried to tell herself, she still had it bad for Christian.