Mica (Rebel Wayfarers MC) (47 page)

She stepped away from him, standing along the edge of the dirt turnout where it sloped down to the lake’s edge. “How could I mind, Mason? This has always been our thing, but I didn’t think you’d be willing. Plus, what if I suck and can’t learn? I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

He scoffed. “Babe, I think you’ll be a natural. Want to head back and start now?”

Holding her hand up when he started to approach, she halted him after only a step towards her. “How long before we can leave to go home?”

Shrugging, he answered, “Depends, but as soon as tomorrow if you wanted.”

She nodded at him and smiled. “I want. Let’s go. Learn me, oh, Master of the Motorcycle.”

***

Four days later, they were pulling into a hotel just south of St. Louis, both ready for a break and a shower. Parking the bikes together in a space near the entrance, they stepped off and stretched, grinning at each other, because they were so closely in sync. “I’ll gather our stuff while you go check in,” Mica told him, flipping her braids over her shoulder and unbuckling the saddlebag on her bike to pull out clean clothes. She yelled at his back, “Find out who delivers, Prez. I’m starving.” She laughed to herself as he stopped short and turned back to her with a shocked look on his face.

Stalking back towards her, he asked tightly, “Did you just fucking call me Prez? Because that, Mica…babe…is off fucking limits.”

He spun on his heel and walked back to the hotel entrance, leaving her standing flatfooted in the parking lot trying to decide what had happened. She’d heard so many of the Rebel members call him Prez it seemed natural, like using his last name instead of Davis. Gathering up the things they’d need for an overnight stay and stuffing them into a bag, she started into the hotel, meeting him in the lobby.

He was silent as they went to the room. After he opened it and pushed the keycard into her hand, he shoved her inside, and as he was pulling the door closed, he said, “I’m next door.”

Confused, she looked at the door as it shut. They’d shared rooms since leaving Texas. Last night, they shared a bed, where he’d affectionately spooned her all night long. Something had gone badly wrong in the parking lot, and she didn’t understand what she’d done.

She dropped the bag with their stuff on the floor and scrabbled for the door handle, pulling it open to see an empty hallway. Shaking her head, she stepped to the next room and knocked quietly on the door. “Not now, Mica,” was the response from the room.

“What the hell, Mason?” she spoke into where the door closed in the frame.

“Not now, Mica,” came again more harshly, followed by silence.

“Oh, no you don’t, buddy.” Now she was yelling a little, pounding on the door with the flat of her hand. “You do not get to pull crap and then sulk in a room by yourself.”

The door ripped open and he was standing in the way, flexing and stretching one hand up to grab the top of the doorframe, growling out between his teeth, “Not now, Mica.” He’d already taken off his jacket and shirt, and was standing there naked from the waist up, the light dusting of hair on his chest setting off the defined muscles on his chest and arms. He wasn’t looking at her; instead, he was staring at the wall above her head.

She ducked under his arm and slipped quickly into the room, repeating, “What the hell, Mason?”

“Can you not simply leave something for once when I ask you to? Just once?” he yelled loudly at her. This wasn’t like him.

He pushed her to the wall, crowding her with his body. She felt the heat radiating from him all along her frame as he put his hands up on either side of her head. “Can you not simply fucking leave it alone?”

A few tendrils of hair had escaped her braid, and she brusquely shoved them out of her face and shouted back, “Not when you are acting like a butthole, and when I don’t know what I did wrong. Not when you are mad at me—I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me. No buddy, I can’t frickin’ leave it alone.”

He hit the wall beside her head hard with both hands, the crash making her jump and brush against him. “Fuck,” he growled and turned back to the middle of the room.

She took a step towards him, and he flung out a hand to the side, halting her before she took another step. “Talk to me, Mason. What did I do?” Twisting at the waist, he half-turned to look at her with an anguished look on his face. Oh, well, okay then. She’d seen this pose from him before, and now knew he was trying to hide an erection from her. “Mason, if you are…I’m…um…I’ll go.” Her face bright red, she escaped out to the hallway and then back into her room, leaning against the wall and sliding down to sit on the floor.

***

Mason groaned as the door closed quietly behind her. She had no idea the impact she had on him every single fucking day. Hearing her call him his club title had made him instantly hard; he couldn’t imagine being more aroused by anything. Then, it was totally devastating to remember she could never, would never be that person in his life. He was taking her back home for Daniel, not himself. He couldn’t act on anything he felt.

He couldn’t do any more than high-five her when he was so proud of her bravery, riding like a champ, even in thick traffic, or do more than sling an arm around her shoulders as they stopped to look at the view along the winding mountain roads through Arkansas. Anything more, and he was sporting a boner within seconds.

Yesterday, she’d worn a sundress, tucking it under her legs along the tank to keep it from billowing around her. He knew it was a bad idea, and not safe—she should’ve had leathers on, just in case—but he couldn’t deny himself the sight of her straddling the bike in that fucking dress once she put it on. He needed those memories, because that was all he would ever fucking have.

Sharing a bed with her last night, he had dreamed of her as he often did, caught up in memories of their one night together. He woke up pressed tightly against her back with a raging erection, which he got up and took care of. Carefully he had slid back into bed behind her not long before she awoke. Now, standing alone in a hotel room, he unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down, along with his boxer briefs; sitting for a minute on the edge of the bed, he removed his boots.

He adjusted himself several times, each touch causing him to groan and think about Mica—her mouth smiling at him in laughter, her grin as she conquered another mountain, her hands as she tugged the hem of her shirt down from where it blew up in the wind, her holding her hair in a one-handed ponytail as they ate an impromptu picnic.

Stripping off his clothes, he was headed into the bathroom when the connecting door between the rooms opened. “It wasn’t locked,” she said softly, stepping into the room.

He was unexpectedly angry at her. Why couldn’t she simply leave things alone? Sometimes she made it too difficult to be around her and still not have her. He decided to stop hiding from her; he wanted to force her to understand so she’d just fucking stop. Maybe she’d be too embarrassed to be around him. Maybe it would break their friendship. In this moment, he didn’t care, because he fucking wanted her.

Turning to face her, he reached down and gripped his cock tightly, feeling it twitch and jerk in his hand. He slowly stroked his thick shaft from root to tip with one hand, the other hand rubbing across his lower stomach lazily. Tipping his head back slightly, he let his hips thrust forward, stroking harder. Bringing his head up and looking at her, he said in a low voice, “You wanted to know what you did, babe? This,” he stroked again, “this is what you did. I fucking want you, Mica.”

He groaned, tipping his head back again. “I want your mouth, your hands. I want to be buried balls-deep inside you. I want to hear you call my name when you come.” Stroking faster, he confessed, “You are in my every fantasy. I stay hard constantly when I’m around you. I want you all the fucking time. You. I want
you
.”

Closing his eyes, he ran his callused fingers across his hardened nipples. “You wrap your legs around my ass on the bike, and I get hard. You ride beside me, and I get hard.
You fucking bite my back, and I nearly come in my pants.”

Leaning his shoulders back against the wall, he shifted his feet to widen his stance and moved faster, his hips thrusting with every stroke. “You wear a fucking sundress on a bike, and I get hard. I want to love you like you deserve; I want to be your lover. Your one and only. I. Want. You.”

He didn’t hear her move, hadn’t heard a sound from her, so his eyes jerked open in surprise as he felt the heat of her small hand laying over his on his chest. She looked up at him, her bottom lip between her teeth. She put her other hand over his on his cock, stilling him mid-stroke.

“Don’t, Mason.” Her breath caught. Her fingers slid down his chest, tracing the letters inked along his ribs. “Could you even accept my love? Am I enough?” Shaking her head, she answered her questions for him, “You and I both know I’m not. I’m too afraid of some really big parts of your life. Those things are central to who you are. I can’t be everything you need.” She started moving her hand, stroking the hard length of him slowly. “You’d have to hide too much from me if we were together as a couple. It would break us, break everything.” Stroking him faster, her other hand slid low to cradle and massage his testicles. “If you accept my love, if you say it’s enough, you are lying—to yourself and me. You need someone who will be there for you always.
You deserve so much more.”

She leaned down and kissed the phrase tattooed on his skin—
We accept the love we believe we deserve.
Folding her legs, she sank to her knees in front of him, still stroking and fondling him. “But we can have sometimes, when there is need. Let me be your sometimes…until you find your always.” Rubbing her cheek against the length of him, she nuzzled her nose into the thick, curly hair at the root, breathing deeply. Wrapping her tongue around the head of his cock and licking languidly, she looked up at him and whispered, “We can have this,” and then she took him in her mouth.

***

Riding side-by-side up the Dan Ryan, Mason and Mica were nearly home. She turned her blinker on, checking her mirrors and looking over her shoulder as they moved over towards their exit. Letting Mason cross over in front of her, she followed his lead through the surface streets, knowing he had the best idea of what she could manage with all the lights, cars, and turns.

She was really tired and her butt was numb; it had been a long day with a late start. They hadn’t ridden terribly far on any of the previous days, but she was determined to make it home tonight. She wanted to sleep in her own bed for the first time in weeks, and was looking forward to hanging with Mason.

Finally turning onto their street, she goosed the throttle and pulled up alongside Mason again, nodding her head and grinning. He made a mock bow and let her pull ahead, smiling widely at her. Riding in front of him for the few blocks to the alley that separated their property, she saw in the distance an enormous row of bikes parked on either side of the alley, and an ocean of black leather, colorful bandanas, dark shirts, and countless tattoos spread out across the lawn and road between their houses.

Suddenly terrified of making a mistake in front of people who’d been riding bikes all of their lives, she put her feet down and idled through the turn, braking to a stop in the middle of the alley. She was relieved at least she’d had the presence of mind to pull the clutch before putting down both feet.

Mason pulled up alongside her, tapping her arm to get her attention. He pointed to her house and indicated she should park on the concrete pad beside her back porch. She nodded and rolled forward with the tiniest bit of throttle, starting to pick faces out of the mass of people as she grinned at everyone. She saw Roach, Road Runner, and Doc, and then she saw Daniel’s friends Jason and Gary. They all slapped and thumped her helmet, back, and butt as she rode past, and she heard voices calling her name.

Finally at the pad, she was going to pull straight up on it, but then remembered how Mason had insisted they all back into parking places, because it was easier to pull out than back out. Pulling past it, she idled the bike, pushing backwards with her feet until she was parked nice and straight. She grinned; Mason would be proud of her.

Heeling down the kickstand, she leaned the bike over and killed the engine. She sat there for a second on the canted bike, just looking around and taking it in. Pulling off the helmet to hang it on her handlebars, she smoothed her braids back and fluffed her bangs. It was a little overwhelming, because she wasn’t prepared for the noise level that more than a hundred people brought to her backyard. Wow, they were loud. There was music too, and evidently a keg somewhere; she saw distinctive red cups everywhere.

So tired that her legs were shaking, she hoped using force of will to not fall down getting off the bike would work.

Standing, she started lifting her leg over the seat, when hands grabbed her waist and picked her up. Turning her head, she saw Slate behind her with that sexy lift at one side of his mouth, which was what passed as a smile for him. Twisting around and hugging him tightly, she pulled back and put her hands on either side of his face. She leaned in, kissed his closed mouth tenderly, and whispered in his ear before she stepped back, “That’s from Essa.” She watched his face closely as his smile widened.

Behind him was Digger, waving at her with his arm around a pretty little blonde in leather with gorgeous full sleeve tattoos. Stripping off her leather jacket, Mica laid it across the tank of her bike and hurried over to hug him tightly. “I want to hear about everything,” she softly said to him, feeling his body move as he nodded at her.