The Biker's Touch - Book 2 (An Alpha Motorcycle Club Romance) (Ghosts of the Prairie Motorcycle Club) (3 page)

He plunged his tongue inside of her so deeply, tasting all that he could. He worked it in and out, lighting up every cell of her channel. Jennifer felt a surge of heat that was the tell-tale sign of an orgasm. If he kept doing what he was doing, it was inevitable.

Instinctively, she placed her hand on her pleasure spot to help him along. He laughed a deep laugh against her.

“Go ahead baby,” he said. “Find your pleasure.”

He resumed his penetration of her with his tongue while she, with a few quick-pressured movements, was spasming uncontrollably against his mouth. Trenton pinned her hips, making her come while he licked her endlessly. It was a new experience for her completely. She had no idea that it could be like this.

He continued throughout the entire span of the climax. He rose from her. Her body was screaming to be filled. She spied on him. By the looks of things, she was about to be filled in a most amazing way.

He laced his fingers at the small of her back. Her knees were naturally apart and her body opened for him. He took her hand and placed it on him. Together they put him inside of her. Again, it was a new experience to feel an amazing erection inside of her body that had been so exquisitely electrified by an orgasm.

Jennifer felt completely helpless the pleasure was so stunning. She struggled to keep her mind clear; it wavered as the arousal blurred reality for her. He drove into her at a dominating pace. That same heat surged within her and she knew that the recent sweet, amazing orgasm was about to come back to life.

She pressed at her center again with her fingers, but this time he gently removed her hand, pinning it to her hip momentarily. He grinned at her.

“Oh,” he said. “You’re going to have to enjoy it for a while, baby.”

That cleared her mind and she was able to gaze into his eyes. He was an extraordinarily handsome man. The hair was long and slightly wild, but he could definitely be on a Madison Avenue billboard. He was that perfect.

And so big and powerful. His body, as tall as he was, was perfectly proportioned. He had to be the most gorgeous man she had ever been with. He moved so smoothly in and out of her, tormenting her with pure bliss. His hardness conformed perfectly to her body, striking and rubbing each of her most sensitive places at just the right pace. With just the right pressure.

“So, do I need to ask you?” Jennifer inquired saucily.

“Ask me?” he replied, very clearly sinking into erotic intoxication.

“To come? Do you want me to ask for your permission?” she asked.

He smiled. “I will let you know when you may, and when you are I want you to tell me. I want you to say it clearly.”

That was all she needed. There was almost no time to play along. She asked a rapid clip before her pleasure was upon her.

“May I?” she managed before being overtaken by powerful seizures of uncut rapture. “I’m  coming,” she gasped.

Trenton quickened his pace trying to catch up with her. It did not take long. His orgasm was all male. All animal. He cried out so fiercely it pushed out all other sound from the room. His body stiffened, overcome by his own climax. They came together. They pushed, rocking against each other to the last, until they could move no more.

Trenton tried his best to not collapse on her, his body drenched in perspiration. He scooted in next to her, both of them still suffering the labored breathing of pleasure.

“Mama,” he exclaimed.

They were both a wonderfully sweaty mess.

“Come,” she said, taking his big bear paw in her dainty hand.

She led him to her bathroom, which was the size of a small bedroom. It had a stand-alone shower that was the perfect size for him and a big soaker tub. She opted to run the shower water till it warmed. They stepped in.

She had wanted to wash his back but she realized there was a considerable difference in their heights.

“I think I might need a step stool for you,” she said.

“Oh yeah?” he asked and he lifted her with ease.

He brought her up to his height. He gently pinned her to the granite wall of the shower and tenderly kissed her. She had completely forgotten how erotic kissing was. He brought it all back to her in tender strides of his tongue against the insides of her mouth. His tongue mated with hers.

The position of her body, with her legs wrapped around the tree-trunk of his own body created the perfect position to join again. She felt his generous erection nudging against her petaled opening. His hold allowed her enough slack to slip just so. She impaled herself on him.

It had only been minutes really since they had been slamming it home with one another, but with him inside of her again, Jennifer realized how immediately addicted to him she was. She had missed him. She needed him again. She loved having him inside of her.

He was strong enough to work her body up and down on him. He let her weight do some of the work. Their rhythm was just forceful enough to be completely exhilarating. Each stroke sent electric blasts throughout her, renewing her excitement over and over again.

Trenton reached for the showerhead behind them and took it off the mount. He pressed his thumb over the flow to create a very forceful directed spray.

“Fucking hold on to me baby,” he said.

And he strategically aimed it at her. Immediately her pleasure was alive and she was seizing hard around him. He had to let the showerhead dangle because his idea had turned him on so that he was climaxing as well. They were paralyzed against the shower wall as their pleasure rolled through them.

Trenton replaced the showerhead and they rinsed off.

Jennifer had a couple of robes. She took one of Brill’s, which at first Trenton refused to wear, because he knew her husband and he just didn’t like him. But then he put it on and modeled it for her.

“Looks like I have on one of your robes,” he said with an arched eyebrow.

“You calling my soon-to-be ex-husband a girl?” She giggled.

He wrapped his arms around her. “I wouldn’t insult women that way.”

Chapter Two

Three times in a row Trenton Gillis gave Jennifer more pleasure than she had had in a lifetime. It was almost a mistake. Because she lay staring at the ceiling, realizing all the time she spent alone and unloved. If she had been having one-tenth of this fulfillment she would have had a rich, complete life indeed. As it was, she knew how empty she had been this entire time.

Trenton kissed her check, stroked her hair. She was afraid he was going to sense her sadness and she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to bring down one of the most amazing moments of her entire life.

“Are you hungry?” he asked lightly. “Because I am hungry.”

“I am so starved,” she said, realizing she was indeed hungry.

“What do you have in the refrigerator?” he asked, bounding out of bed.

He put his fingers to his head as though he were a mind reader. “I am going to guess, lettuce. Um, carrots. Yep, definitely carrots. Celery and peanut butter. What else? Tomato. Oh, and there is another kind of lettuce. Perhaps some kale.”

“Okay,” she socked him gently, “I also have bread. And some other stuff, I can’t remember.”

“Shall I hazard to guess? Fruit?” he asked.

“Are you teasing me? Are you fruit and veggie shaming me?” she kidded.

He rubbed the firm cheek of her buttocks before he kissed it. “No, I am digging you.”

***

As it turned out, Jennifer had pork chops as well. She had forgotten about them. It was a whim that she had picked them up on the night she learned her husband was in jail. They were supposed to have dinner together as a family and he decided to go to The Bison without her or the kids. Jennifer didn’t feel like eating. She fed the kids mac and cheese. She ate nothing.

When Trenton saw the chops, the bread and the salad, he beamed.

“Oh boy,” he teased. “This is going to be so good!”

“You’re a weirdo,” she kidded him.

“I am and you’re going to like it a lot,” he said.

He leaned down to her and kissed her so tenderly. Finally, he broke the kiss and started cooking. Jennifer bent over, resting on her elbows, watching. There was something so hot about a gorgeous, masculine man working in the kitchen.

Jennifer mooned at him. “You probably know how to do everything, don’t you?”

“No.” He winked. “Not everything. Just the good stuff.”

“The ‘oh my God things’,” she said.

It crossed her mind fleetingly that he was so good in bed because he had so many partners. Jealousy panged in her belly over all the other women who had the same pleasure that she had just experienced. She was jealous that she hadn’t spent her married years with him. It was really hitting her; the wasted time she had spent with her husband.

After he browned the chops he put them in the oven.

“Twenty minutes,” he said.

He pulled out his cell phone and streamed music. He dragged the coffee table out of the way so that they could slow dance in front of the fireplace in their bathrobes. He held her close to his warm hard chest. Mostly they swayed and grinded and kissed until the timer dinged. Jennifer had not realized that slow dancing in a romantic moment was on her bucket list. Definitely coming three times in an evening was.

She set the table for them as he plated the food that was as pretty and artful as any from a five-star restaurant that she had been to. There was so much to this man. Jennifer felt incredibly lucky to have met him.

They sat and they dined by candlelight. He cut a bite of pork on his plate and held it to her mouth to taste. He had glazed it with brown sugar and the coffee left over in the pot. She thought he was nuts at the time, but tasting it now she thought he was a genius.

“What is this sauce called?” she asked.

“Red eye gravy. Now how can you be from North Dakota and not know about red eye gravy? Don’t they serve that in ivory towers?” he teased.

Her feelings were actually hurt by the remark. She was well-off, to be sure. She was not exactly comfortable with the wealth since she was pretty sure it was ill-gotten by the hands of her dastardly husband. But she didn’t grow up that way.

“My parents were migrant workers in California. I know when you think ‘migrant worker’ you think minorities from other countries, but there’s actually a lot of people born and bred right here who are migrant farmers. I lived in a shack for the most part, growing up. I picked as soon as I was able.”

The look on Trenton’s face was horror. She felt guilty, as though that was an unfair response, but she was glad she got it out in the open. It was a thing she rarely talked about. Something she hadn’t really ever dealt with.

“Well how did you get out here?” he asked.

“I had a job at a Sonoma winery when I was eighteen. I wasn’t allowed to do certain things because I was a minor but I could act like a hostess. Brill and some of his co-workers had been on a business trip and one of the things they did was take a tour of the winery. He took one look at me and he basically bought me,” she said.

“Hmm,” said Trenton, comprehending.

“I had never seen so much money as my first paycheck at the winery. I think I made eight bucks an hour to show people where the wine tasting section was. I thought I was a millionaire. I gave every penny to my mother and father,” she said.

“And where are they now?”

“I moved them out here as soon as I could. I made Brill build them a place. My children are visiting them right now. Boy, my parents were different people with the burden of poverty off their shoulders. They’re golden,” she said. “I went to school here. Brill insisted. But the only thing I wanted was to make a nice comfortable home. I am glad I went though.”

Trenton brushed the hair from her face and kissed her softly.

“You are an amazing woman,” he said. “I’d like to make you breakfast if you’ll let me.”

“I would really like that,” she said.

They cleared the dishes after their meal was done. He made coffee and somehow it tasted so much better than when she made it.

“I am going to check in with my captain,” he said.

“Captain?” she asked.

“Ghosts of the Prairie. Our motorcycle club. You might remember when you stormed into lunch the other day that I was with some guys. I am not just the attorney for the club. Those men are my buds. We rode up here from Parshall.”

“Oh,” said Jennifer with sudden disappointment. “You don’t live here in New City?”

“Huh unh. We came up here looking for your husband. Made him answer for the woman he brought out here. The one you paid off? We’re probably going to be going back there in a bit,” he said.

“So where did you go to law school?” she asked.

“UC Berkeley ma’am,” he said. “Son of a coupla’ Haight-Ashbury hippies. I’m a transplant just like you I am afraid.”

“So how did you come out?” she asked.

“Well, I was a corporate jock for a long time. I was general counsel for an energy firm like your husband’s, only honest. I grew up always loving to ride. I found Ghosts of the Prairie. I liked the lifestyle more than I liked the paycheck. So I quit. I do a lot of pro bono work. Help out the Native American population quite a bit and the tribes are very grateful. So that’s satisfying. And then I do some freelancing for some of the corporations here and there. I am set.”