True North: A Wordsmith Chronicles MC Standalone

by Harlan, Christopher

  I pause. I’m waiting for some laughter. Or judgment. Or ridicule of some sort. I realize that’s my own insecurity talking. She doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t judge, and she doesn’t ridicule. She puts her hand over mine.

  “I only have one question.”

  “What’s that?” I ask with trepidation.

  “What’s your first story going to be about?”

  I’m shocked at what I’m hearing, and by the next question she asks me.

  “So, what’s it gonna be? An action story? A fantasy? A mystery?”

  “Romance,” I tell her. “Crazy as it sounds, I was thinking of writing a romance story. I have a bunch of ideas that I’ve been rattling around in my head for a while now. Badass male character, hot female. Plenty of bikes. Plenty of hot sex.”

  “I like the last part.”

  “Oh yeah?” I ask. “I saw your face light up when I said hot sex.”

  “There should never be any other kind as far as I’m concerned.”

  The entire time we’ve been talking I’ve been turned on. Every time I look at her I just want to fuck, uncontrollably, like an animal in heat, and right now is no exception. I loved telling her about my life and my past, but the entire time all I could focus on were the creamy white legs popping out from underneath her dress, and the fact that they’re crossed is just a challenge to me.

  “This may sound cocky,” I begin. “But I know that if I wrote a book, it would be the greatest book there was on that subject.”

  “That does sound cocky,” she says. “It also sounds sexy as all fuck.”

  I’m distracted by the stiffening of my cock. She can’t help but look beautiful, and I want to have her right now. The majority of my brain is devoted to thoughts of her straddling and riding me.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. And I know you’d write something hot.”

  “Hot sex. Fast bikes. Hard men. Sexy women. That’s my formula, and I know that I can tell a story as well as anyone can. The boys used to gather around me at the clubhouse to hear me tell stories of the old days. Maybe I’d write about this badass dude—tall, in good shape, dominant as fuck—he meets this girl who’s not from his world. Maybe they like each other. Maybe by a few pages in they fuck like maniacs.”

  “Like maniacs, huh?”

  “Like crazed fuck bunnies, whose sole mission is to make the other person come like they’ve never come before.”

  “I’ve come pretty hard,” she jokes. “Not sure it can ever be topped.”

  “With me?” I ask, foolishly.

  “I’ll keep you guessing on that one.”

  I raise my eyebrow as high as it’ll go. I don’t like being told what I can’t do, and I take any declaration thereof as a challenge to do that very thing. “You wanna bet?” I ask defiantly.

  “I sure do. I’m calling your bluff. What are you gonna do about it?”

  She has no idea what she just asked for, but she’s going to. I don’t speak. I don’t need to. I signal to her with my index finger, pointing at her, and then pointing at me. She comes over like I command and stands in front of me, waiting for direction. She looks sexy as fuck, but I’m not going to break my cold exterior. My dick is already hardening just looking at her, and the thoughts of the near public blowjob I almost got are fresh in my mind. The more I think of her under that table, her hands reaching into my pants, the harder I get, and pretty soon my body gives me away even if my face doesn’t.

  She takes note, looking down at my lap as my cock starts to change the shape of my pants. She smiles, then hikes her dress up all the way to her hips. I stare at her cute little pussy for a second, and then she straddles me as the pain in my pants becomes almost unbearable. I grab onto her hips and then work my hands around to the back and let my fingers seep into the softness of her ass. I pull her forward, and she buries her face in my neck and starts sucking.

  It’s not long before I’ve had enough teasing. My cock is screaming to be let out, and if I’m going to make this girl lose track of how many orgasms she’s had, I need to get to work. Once our clothes are off, I stand up and throw her down on the couch. I grab each of her knees and pull her legs apart. From there it’s easy access to her beautiful pink pussy.

  My tongue finds her clit right away, and I rub my warm tip over it. She arches her back and reaches her hands on either side of her, clawing at the couch and whatever else she can reach as I pleasure her. I flick gently upwards, over and over, the tension in her body building as I do. I know that the first time is going to be fast. Little does she know my tongue is going at half speed, and when I pick it up to my full capabilities, she comes like a geyser.

  When she relaxes I sit up, confident that I’ve achieved what I set out to achieve. “Mission accomplished,” I say.

  “How do you know you made me come as hard as I ever have?”

  “I don’t,” I tell her. She looks confused.

  “Huh? I don’t get it.”

  “My mission wasn’t to make you come as hard as you ever have right now. I just wanted you to see what I’m capable of. That was a five out of ten. I don’t want to overwhelm you. We’ll build to the best orgasm you’ve ever had. And when it happens,” I tell her, “you won’t even remember any other guy you’ve been with.”

  Twenty Seven—North—Now

  Have you ever run for your life?

  It’s an expression every kid uses when they’re running away from trouble—a staple utterance of every boy’s childhood. But those words have a very different connotation when they’re literal—when the speed of each hurried step might mean the difference between living a long and healthy life, or being killed by a group of your kidnappers.

  I was never the fastest runner, but right now I’m Usain fucking Bolt.

  I was right about the alarm. It wasn’t a minute after I spotted that camera—or when it spotted me—that I wasn’t being chased by five mean looking Leviathans looking to do terrible shit to me should they catch me.

  I turn left and let my legs do all the work.

  Right now, my brain is on auto pilot, and I’ve never felt so much like an animal being hunted. There’s no thinking, only feeling, and the intense knowledge that I’m being hunted. I hear them behind me, a few feet in the distance, but I don’t turn around. I turn a corner, and that’s when I see it—a section of chain link fence that doesn’t have any sheet metal reinforcing it. Either they forgot, or never put it up, but right now that three feet of fence is my salvation.

  I kick my legs into second gear, and use every drop of the adrenaline that my body’s releasing to keep my ass alive. Seconds later I leap, grabbing onto the fence like a jaguar climbing a tree, and start to work my way up the eight feet above me. I haven’t climbed a damn fence like this since I was a little kid, that shit is like riding a bike—it comes back to you, fast.

  I know they’re on my ass, probably climbing beneath me, but I know that I’m safe from gunshots because it would attract too much heat, so I just keep moving. The top is lined with barbed wire, and if this were a normal situation, such an obstacle would deter me from ever trying to get over, but this is no ordinary circumstance.

  When I see those metal spikes above, waiting to slice me open like a Thanksgiving turkey, I don’t think about them, I just think about Delilah and my worry for my own safety dissipates instantaneously.

  I grab the fence for the last time just below the rings of barbed wire. Pulling my own weight with every bit of strength I have left in my arms, I fling my legs over to the other side. My left leg clears, but my jeans on my right leg get caught as the rest of my body falls to the other side of the fence. I pull as hard as I can, and the third tug rips the fabric from the fence, and I’m free.

  I climb down for a second and then just let go, free falling the rest of the distance until I hit the ground with a thud. I collapse, and open my eyes to see three angry Leviathans punching and screaming at the chain links. I hear a yell from behind me.

  “Hey, mi
ster, are you all right?”

  I don’t want to turn around, but the voice of the Good Samaritan pulls my attention. It’s a man in his car, yelling from the window. The look on his face tells me that he’s read the situation pretty quickly, and he looks at me with kind and concerned eyes. He should be concerned. If these animals on the other side of me clear the fence they wouldn’t hesitate to kill us both.

  I don’t answer him with my words. I answer him with the desperate expression on my face. He yells a second time. “Get in, hurry.”

  I don’t need to be told twice. I scramble to my feet, and run as much as I can to the passenger door of this kind stranger’s car. Once I jump in he hits the gas, and we’re off. I roll the widow down and struggle to catch my breath—my heart going faster than a heart should.

  “Are you alright?” he asks.

  No kid. I’m pretty fuckin’ far from alright. A maniac from my past is on his way to rape and kill my wife.

  “You saved my ass back there.”

  “I had to stop. I saw you climbing that fence and you looked like you needed help.”

  “You have no idea,” I say. “You’ve got some balls, kid. Most people would have just kept on driving.”

  “Can I take you somewhere? No offense, but I don’t want those guys after me so I’d rather bring you where you need to go and be on my way.”

  Smart kid. “Yeah, there is a place you can take me.”

  I know exactly where I need to go.

  Twenty Eight—North—Way Back When

  I wake up, the taste of Delilah still on my tongue, and the smell of her hair in my nose.

  She fell asleep right away, and so did I. It’s been a long day, and I was more than happy to close my eyes to the darkness of this world for a few hours. But something woke me up. A worry. A look I didn’t like tonight between Travis and Joaquin. It bothered me in the moment but I chose to ignore it, but now it’s waking me up from an otherwise peaceful slumber, and I reach for my phone to text Joaquin.

  Me: What did you decide to do with the clubhouse?

  Joaquin: We’ll sell. You were right. But I’m not giving it away for free. I’ll accept his lowball offer. I’ll tell Travis tomorrow.

  Me: Let me come with you. I don’t trust that crazy bastard.

  Joaquin: You’ve done enough. I’ve been unfair. This is my thing now. I’ll do the heavy lifting on this one, don’t worry. Enjoy that beautiful woman of yours.

  Me: Are you sure? Feel like I should be there as your backup.

  Joaquin: I got this. Don’t worry about me.

  Me: Alright. Call me after.

  I put the phone down, but I feel uneasy. I didn’t like the look in Travis’ eye tonight, and I know he’s capable of anything.

  I just hope it goes smoothly.

  Twenty Nine—Delilah—Way Back When

  When I open my eyes, I see that North’s already up.

  “Good morning,” I say. “I slept like a baby.”

  “I thought that you might after what I did to you. That was my intention all along.”

  I stretch my arms up to the air. It’s true, the man makes me come like never before. And it’s not just the orgasms either, it’s everything. The sex is different. He’s different. And it doesn’t hurt that he has the absolute largest cock I’ve ever seen. “So, when do I get to see your full capabilities?” I ask.

  “Oh, sweetheart, we need to save that for a special occasion. I don’t want to overwhelm your system all at once now.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” Most guys who say shit like this are just bullshitting. I’ve met guys who told me that they were going to be the best I’d ever had, and they always end up a disappointment. “I don’t joke about making a woman come,” he says. “If I say I’m going to do something then I’m going to do it. A confident man doesn’t need to exaggerate his capabilities.”

  I lean over and kiss him. “I guess I’m not used to confident men then, because in my experience they all exaggerate.”

  “That’s just insecurity. I’ve been dealing with it in others my whole life. There’s nothing more dangerous than an insecure man. They’ll tell you anything you want to hear because the truth of what they are embarrasses them.”

  “That sounds familiar,” I say. He might as well be talking about my ex. The man was a pathological liar and a cheat, and I should have known because he had no self esteem at all. There I go blaming myself again, I have to stop doing that.

  “Talking about the husband?”

  “Ex husband,” I correct.

  “There are usually silver linings in these situations. That’s not to make light of what happened to you, it was horrible, but it certainly could have been worse.”

  “It’s hard to imagine that whole thing being any worse than it was.”

  “Think about it,” he says. “You mentioned that you were trying to have a child with this man, right?” I nod. “What if you had? What if you had a one-year old little baby when you discovered his daddy was a con man? He’d still have parental rights as the father, even if he was a huge prick. Adults are adults. We make our own beds and fight our own fights. But nothing worse in this world than children having to go through things like that.”

  I don’t want to accept what he’s saying at first, because I’ve always told myself that what happened to me was the worst thing that could have happened, but I never considered the child thing. North’s right—what if we’d had a small kid and that whole thing took place?

  “You dodged that bullet. And there’s also a second positive you can take from it.”

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “You wouldn’t be here with me. You’d still be the wife of some deceptive asshole who was forcing you to live a lie against your will. I hate what you had to go through, because the idea of you being in pain hurts me, but now that it’s over I have to say that I’m happy it brought you into my life, Delilah.”

  I kiss him again. I can thank him for the kind words better with my lips than anything else. I didn’t see it before, but I notice there’s a paperback on his lap. “What are you reading?”

  “The Things They Carried, by Tim O’Brien. You ever read it?”

  “Can’t say that I have, but I haven’t read a lot of books. Is it good? Like a new release?”

  He starts belly laughing like I’ve never heard him laugh before. I’d be amused, if he wasn’t laughing at me. “What?”

  “It’s one of the most famous books ever.”

  “Oh,” I say, smiling and feeling a little dumb. “What’s it about?”

  “A lot of things. But really what it’s about is a man’s experience in war—the Vietnam War specifically—but it has a lot of applications. It’s one of my favorite books.”

  “Do you read a lot?” I ask.

  “All the time. You won’t find me without a book for too long a stretch. A mind needs books to function—it’s just that simple. It’s like eating or drinking. Books are required to be a person.”

  I’ve never heard anyone talk about books like that. But, then again, North is widening my horizons in a lot of areas. I have to admit, I really thought he’d fit the stereotypes that I had in my head of bikers. I was drawn in by how fuckin’ sexy he is, and how quickly he came to my defense, but ever since then he’s surprised me at every turn with his interests and his intelligence. I really did take him for granted.

  “You’re making me feel bad that I don’t read as much as I used to.”

  He shakes his head dismissively. “Nonsense. You’ve been wrapped up in some bullshit that wasn’t of your doing. Reading takes time. It takes concentration. You’ve been preoccupied. But you should get back into it.”

  “Maybe I will,” I say. “What else do you like to read? Just war books?”

  “I’m pretty diverse. I’ll read anything—war books, like you say, mysteries, suspense, romance, it doesn’t matter to me. After all, a good story is a good story, right? Who gives a fuck what section they put it
in on some bookstore shelf. I’ll read what’s good.”

  “If I’m going to get reading again, I might need you to make a recommendation. I’m not sure going to a bookstore and just picking a random book is the best way to get started.”

  “Probably not.”

  “But why this one?”

  “I used to be in the military. I’m a veteran.”

  I’m a little shocked that he hasn’t mentioned this before, but he’s not the most forthcoming with his past. I’m seeing that he’s a man who needs to be asked a question directly to give an honest answer, but he’s not the guy to just tell you his whole life story over dinner. It makes him way more interesting to me, because I get to discover his layers a little at a time.

  “Really? I didn’t take you for a military guy. Seems like it would have too many rules and regulations for your liking.”

  “It does, to be honest. But there was more about the military lifestyle that drew me to it than there was to drive me away.”

  “Like what?” she asks.

  “Like the values it embodies,” he tells me. “I’m a free spirit, sure, but I’m also a man of principle, of honor, of discipline. I found all of that in the armed services, despite some of the dumb rules and regulations, as you put it.”

  I smile at him. “You never cease to surprise, James North.”

  He doesn’t address that comment, just changes the subject back to reading. “Maybe I can give you something that I wrote to get you started back on your journey.”

  It’s the first time that I’ve heard him sound hesitant about anything. It gets me curious. “You want me to read something that you wrote?” He looks at me like a kid waiting for approval. It’s the only time I’ve seen him be anything less than one hundred percent confident in himself. He nods. “I’d be honored to. Whenever. Is it some hardcore smut that’s gonna make me wanna get on top of you and start riding?”