Hard Rider (Bad Boy Bikers Book 1) (17 page)

Through the hallway there was a bathroom on the right, paisley blue wallpaper wrapped around the walls. A kitchen in the very back of the house, small again with a small breakfast nook where he had hardly ever sat. The table there was more of a repository for mail most days, though he had just tossed most of it out a week before.

And then there was his bedroom. His bed was most of the room, a chest-of-drawers under the window. The sheets were soft cloth, the comforter denim. None of it matched—none of anything in his house matched, really, a Frankenstein work of parts he’d acquired from garage sales and hand-me-downs from other brothers in the club.

With June there, he arranged atmosphere quickly. The television played baseball on mute; the Rangers were losing. He brought June a beer and one for himself and they sat down on the couch.

It was all very natural. They didn’t speak. She sat next to him at first, not quite touching. The two just sipped at their beers. But his weight was substantial and the couch was old, and soon she was sliding down against his body, into his lap.

Very shortly after that she turned to him and began to kiss at his cheek and then his jawline, her face sliding through the thick surface of his beard. Small, delighted gasps left her as his hand grabbed at her waist, pulling her on top of his body. They didn’t seem able to be alone with each other and not start making out...or more.

He loved her hair. Long, thick, smelling like fall and the harvest, when he rode his bike through areas more fertile than West Texas, when he could feel the freshness of life flowing through his nose and mind. Her body ground against his, hips dropping to slide her heat across the heavy muscles of his torso.

They kissed for what felt like an hour. There was no clock in the living room. When they had started, the sun was still out and bright, but it was quickly fading now. His cock had been pushing, yearning up toward June’s body that entire time. He wanted her—all of her. He didn’t care what it meant, what it took. Ram wanted to be inside of her.

Wild Girl. My Wild Girl.

And she could feel him. Her thighs or her pelvis slid against the stiff rod. Sometimes her ass would land on it, rubbing gently back and forth against the heavy meat, moans leaving her like steam from a kettle.

There was no mistaking it—June
wanted
him. He took his good body and looks for granted most of the time, but what most woman wanted from him seemed to be just that—a ride on the wild side and then to be done. But the way June looked at him, she made him feel like she wanted to fuck every part of him. She made him feel like she wanted to ride his soul.

June rose up to meet his eyes, taking his head between her hands.

“I don’t know if I trust you,” she said softly. “But I am trusting you not to hurt me. So don’t, okay?”

He felt a little insulted. “I'd never touch a hair on your head. I don't know—”

“That's not what I mean. You know that's not what I mean.”

The anger fled him as soon as it came. He nodded. “I know what you mean.”

“I don't want either of us to say...to do anything that makes this more than it has to be. I want us to play and not get hurt.”

“That’s a deal.”

He was happy to oblige her, happy to play along. But somehow, thinking that they wouldn't start feeling anything for each other felt like a bigger game of pretend than anything else they were doing.

Because Ram
did
have feelings for her. Possessive, primal feelings, wanting her to be his and his alone. Wanting to own every part of her, to claim her like no one else ever would be able to. He'd give up every other pussy on earth for June—but there was no easy way to say that.

She slipped down then, unzipping him quickly. There was a mischievous glint in her brown eyes that he was quickly coming to love.

Wild Girl
.

When she took him out, he was already hard. Ready for her. The meat of it, the length, the thickness, made her mouth pop open with desire. He saw the saliva dripping down from her lips, barely caught by her slow, careful tongue. His cock surged forward, delicious essence dripping out and sliding down the heavy shaft.

Tenderly, her hand slipped around the shaft and massaged the dripping essence back into the skin, making her soft grip slick.

“I want to make you feel like you made me feel the other night,” she said, stroking with confidence. “I want you to relax.”

He had absolutely no objection to that.

She slipped her mouth down over him, enveloping him slowly. Still she stroked up and down, even as her lips slipped slowly over his cockhead.  He was large for a man, he knew that—but he had no way to know that he was significantly larger than the last man she had been with.

It took her time to adjust, to appropriate. But as she did, she stayed affectionate, letting him enter slowly, licking and kissing, inching him into her throat bit-by-bit. All the while, she stroked calmly but firmly, keeping his hardness iron firm.

Soon, her lips pressed all the way down on his crotch, her face buried in the heavy bush of pubic hair he possessed. His body was not unnaturally hairy; he had a man’s amount of hair, a long t shape across his chest leading into a long happy trail down to the heavy power line of his cock.

He could feel the tip of his cock deep in her throat where she swallowed, creating a vacuum-like slick tightness that made him lean his head back and moan.

She felt ungodly good. It was difficult to control himself—and Ram always controlled himself.

And she was
enjoying
it. He was used to women enjoying themselves with him, used to girls who liked to please a man like him. But he could see her hands sliding against her crotch, applying friction to her heated center while her head bobbed up and down with such stunning alacrity.

June was so turned on from sucking him off that she had to touch herself while it happened. That alone made him spurt out heavy threads of precum down her throat, coating her. Marking her. Making her his even more than she already was.

Her response to this was to moan and suck harder. With her lips running up and down his shaft with such eminent ease, she'd had to abandon her strokes altogether. Instead, her free hand slid up and down the heavy brick palace of his abdomen, fingers trailing between each dense ridge of tissue.

Touching him like that only made her pleasure herself more. Her face was getting red, small beads of perspiration forming on her forehead. His hands swept through her hair again and again, losing himself to her, losing himself completely to the power this beautiful woman had over him.

No one had ever pleasured him like this. No one had ever made him feel this way before. Ram had been with more girls than he could count, but not a single one had made him feel this free, this unburdened, this needy.

He had to come inside her, had to come down her throat. He had to mark her completely as his property, had to ensure that this magic mouth belonged to no one but his. He wanted his seed inside her; he wanted it to be the only thing she tasted for days and days.

He warned her, let her know—but she wasn’t that type of girl. She just moaned in approval and in need, encouraging him to finish inside of her.

My Wild Girl
.

Pleasure throttled him, his orgasm feeling like it had been built up for months. Heavy spouts of his seed emptied down her throat, splashing hotly and filling her mouth. Each new round of his gift was met with encouraging moans as she sucked him all down.

He kept going for what felt like nearly a minute, and she stayed on, draining him of the hot, heavy pleasure that she had taken so long to earn. She continued to pleasure him using her tongue and soft kisses with a gusto that made Ram throb and buck on the couch.

It took her several minutes to disengage completely. She seemed to enjoy suckling and cleaning him off, taking her time, licking him sweetly. When she was done, wiping her face with his shirt, she slid back up next to him and cuddled up beneath his heavy arm.

Ram was more than willing to reciprocate.

“Do you want me to...”

She shook her head. “No. I did what I wanted. Let’s just sit for a bit.”

They did, and both began to drift—content, sated, relieved from the stresses of the day.

––––––––

T
hey had been so close to fucking when he had eaten her out. June could feel it—and she knew Ram did too. If he started licking her pussy, she didn’t know if she could stop there without needing him to shove his cock as hard as he could inside of her tight body. That’s why she needed to stop there. She suspected it was fine by him after a blowjob like that.

But soon enough he would have her—when she wanted it—and he’d make sure she never wanted any other cock in her life ever again. That’s the sort of man Ram was.

That scared her. It electrified her.

So with his seed still warming her belly, they dozed for an hour, holding one another tight.

When he woke again, she was positioned across his lap, tinkering with a bit of hair. She perked slightly when she noticed he was awake.

“I have a proposal for you,” she said.

“Anytime you want to give me another blowjob like that, you go right ahead,” he said. “No proposals required.”

“No, different than that.” She took a breath. “I think we should get married.”

Ram sat up. His beer on the coffee table was still cool, though not entirely cold. He picked it up and downed it, shaking his head.

“Your proposal is a fucking
marriage
proposal? I thought you were a little more traditional than that?”

“And I thought your lot didn’t care about tradition?”

He shrugged, still clearly uneasy with it.

“Look, it’s not a
real
marriage, anymore than this is a
real
engagement, or you and I are doing anything but...having fun and making the points we want to make. Right?”

She had practiced the words carefully, made sure not to show any emotion with them. This
was
just a charade. That’s all it would be; all it had to be. A slow hardened look came over his face as he considered what she had said.

“We’ve already got the engagement.”

“And it’s been working great,” she said, nodding. “But this could make it
really
work. My dad wants me to call off the engagement. He still thinks we’re not serious. And you said it yourself, Howitzer won’t think you’re the real deal until you’re married.”

He was quiet, contemplative. She suspected she knew why.

“This won’t solve all your problems, I know.”

“You mean the war with Beretta and all his motherfuckers? Or that Ace is gonna try and kill me if I don't find a way to replace his bike?”

“Right,” she nodded. “But this—getting married—I think it
will
solve one of our problems. We can solve the other ones as they come, right?”

She watched him consider this. He was handsome when he was thinking. It didn't seem like something he did often. Not to say that he was dumb or immature, but he was a creature of impulse and habit, not planning. But his face went far away and his eyes turned up, down, side-to-side, examining in his mind's eye each new possibility.

“Okay.” He clapped his hands, nodding. “Sure, what the hell. Let’s do it. We can go to the clerk tomorrow.”

She slipped back down on his lap. Her fingers traced lines on the heavy, perfect muscles of his chest.

“Can I stay here tonight?”

He looked surprised. “Really?”

“Only if you say it’s okay. I just...I don’t want to go home. My father will be there, and he’ll start yelling at me or...whatever else comes to his head.”

“Sure,” said Ram. “No problem. Stay as long as you need.” He smirked. “My wife can stay in my house any old time.”

She shoved him. “God, shut up.”

It wasn't long before she fell asleep in his arms on the couch, feeling more comfortable than she had in what felt like months. She imagined Ram riding his bike, motoring through street after street, town after town.

Climbing up the odometer, past seventy, past eighty, up to that point where even the slightest swerve could send him flying to his death. Flying on the ground, the ultimate test of his control. Her body stirred from the thought, halfway ready for more sexual action...but she was exhausted.

“It’s too bad,” she whispered.

“What’s that?”

“You can’t just...find a bike. A good one all ready to go.”

She felt him probing her, asking again, but she was fast asleep.

––––––––

W
ith the arrival of the next day, June left the house to sneak back inside her own place and change clothes for her job interview. Ram suspected, also, that she wanted to be married in something that wasn’t her tight jeans and cleavage-baring sweater.

Before she left, she kissed him briefly and promised to see him again that afternoon.

Contentment, unexpected and briefly unwelcome, washed over him. He did not ever want an old lady, did not want some woman dictating when he ought to be home for her. But at the same time, the thought of June coming home to him—or him coming home to her—felt...pleasant.

They would fuck soon, he was dead certain of that. Now that he'd had his cock down her throat, he couldn't wait to try out the rest of her. If June really hadn’t taken a cock as big as his, like she had said with such alluring gusto, she quickly acclimated herself. He could sense himself developing serious feelings for this girl, for her doing the same to him, and he didn’t know how to take it.

When he stepped out of the shower after June left, Mikhail was waiting for him in the living room.

“Urgent?” Ram asked.

“Pretty urgent, yeah. Get dressed.”

In a few minutes, Ram was ready to go, colors on his back. “What’s up?”

“You know that Deputy, Theo?”

“Sure. That’s uh...” he thought for a second. “June’s cousin, I think.”

“Well, he doesn’t seem to be too welcoming of you in the family.”