by Snow, Nicole
Sure, I'd read about the wonderful things a man's tongue can do in dirty romance books and even seen it in some porn. But it was nothing compared to having him there, shaking his huge head from side to side, pulling my clit between his teeth and crashing his tongue against it until my entire body exploded.
I came so fucking hard I almost went blind.
Five minutes later, I'd barely come down from the high, and he'd flipped me over in my stupor. One hand pulled me open, baring my virgin slit for his cock. His pants were off, and I caught a quick glimpse of his rock hard, throbbing, insanely huge dick.
I didn't know how he'd ever fit. He didn't care.
There wasn't time for any questions before he pushed himself inside me, all the way, stretching everything wide open for his cock. He sank deep, held it for a moment, shaping my pussy to fit his length.
It didn't hurt much. After several seconds, it started feeling pretty damned good actually, and then fucking amazing when his thrusts picked up speed. A dozen strokes in with my legs splayed wide, taking his massive cock, and I couldn't think straight.
I couldn't bother with right or wrong, or what time Uncle Ralph wanted me back with his workhorse on wheels, or even the fact that I couldn't check if the outlaw between my legs rolled on a condom first. Roman taught me a lot that day, especially about losing my mind.
Good sex was worse than good whiskey.
A woman couldn't think about anything when her nerves were on fire, blowing all her circuits. I stopped trying when he rocked my body harder, shaking the truck along with it, quaking my whole fucking world apart.
The things that came out of my mouth probably made mama spin in her grave. Especially when he slowed his thrusts, just enough to let me form words, urging me on.
“You like that, woman? Fucking tell me you do. I wanna hear you beg for this dick. Start talking. You'd better practice talking dirty awful fast if you don't want me to pull out right now and shoot my load on your tits.” Then his hand came down, slapping my butt for emphasis.
“Oh, don't stop! Please don't pull out. Please keep fucking me.” If only I would've known those words sealed my fate.
“Fuck you like what, babe? I don't give a shit if you're a virgin. I don't do gentle. I don't do slow. I only know how to fuck sluts.”
“Then fuck me like one.” His hand reached around and cupped my breast. Pushing into his palm, I moaned, praying he'd understand my body's needs.
“Bullshit. You're a good girl, Sally. I've never seen you so much as hanging around a hog roast out here before. You're not a biker bitch. You're not a club whore. I can't fuck you like one unless you make me believe it.” Growling, he pulled out, resting his cock between my ass and rubbing it up and down.
“Anything. Do you want this?” My cheeks burned bright red as I shoved my ass cheeks against him. Yes, he had me so drunk on his body I offered him everything that moment, and I would've given it to him too – anything to bring him back to the fire he'd kindled inside my pussy.
Silence. Until I heard the thunder building in his throat. With a snarl, he tilted my head to the side, jerking my hair in one fist, pushing his lips close to my ear again.
“You're lucky the thought of fucking a virgin cunt no man's ever been in makes my dick pulse lava, blondie. Turn the fuck over. I'll take all your holes another night.” Another slap on the ass, and I obeyed.
I was so vulnerable, so exposed beneath him. His dark hazel eyes flashed. He took a good long look, bathing me in his hungry gaze.
“Lock those legs around my waist, and don't you fucking let up when I make you come. Consider this a test. We'll see if you're worth more than one fuck. I hardly ever do girls twice, and never when they've got hooks on 'em, trying to pull me into some shit. I'm a free man. You hear me, babe? You down with that? I'm looking for a fuck. Not a girlfriend.”
My eyes narrowed. I can't say he didn't give me many chances to run. He told me straight up he was the world's biggest asshole with a gladiator's body and a tiger's stripes going up his arms. The roaring bear inked in the middle of his rock hard chest should've been warning enough.
I ignored it all. I wanted him that bad. I'd play along to keep this going, to feel him shaking me again. I'd already gone too deep, and now I wanted my virgin innocence obliterated.
For one night, I just wanted to feel his cock inside me as many times as I could. I'd deal with the guilt in the morning.
Reaching up, I ran my fingers down his chest, stopping just above his throbbing cock. Steam shot out my pores when I really felt how hard he was. Holy shit.
“You talk a lot about wild and free, don't you, Roman? Why don't you shut up and show me what that means?” God, I sounded nervous, but I managed.
I hooked my legs around his waist and gave him a squeeze. I teased him, and I loved it.
His cock jerked, letting out a steady trickle of pre-come. For several seconds, I watched the thick, pearly liquid dribble down to my soft belly. Then, I reached down and swirled my finger through it, instinctively raising it to my lips.
One drop was all I needed to be addicted to his taste. And apparently, one stunt like that was all it took to tease the animal inside him, the beast that took hold of his body while he pushed his magnificent cock deep into my virgin wetness again.
“Fucking shit.” He shook his head, sliding in to the balls. “Don't you know you're playing with fire, baby girl?”
“Mm. I guess I'll just have to be your pyro for the night.”
His whole body shifted forward. Taking my wrists in both hands, he slammed them onto the leather seat beneath me, holding them over my head. Then his hips moved, and he resumed thrusting. He pistoned in and out a little easier this time because I was twice as wet.
He melted me alive, or at least turned everything below my waist into napalm.
I came apart. Panting. Pleading. Impossibly wet and hot and wanting, ready to blow up the entire biker clubhouse attached to this garage if he refused to finish fucking my brains out.
Thankfully, he did.
Roman throttled my whole body. His deep, hard strokes shook my breasts and vibrated through my bones. My lips popped open, forming an O, a release valve for the fireball exploding around my clit. I barely had time to reach up and wrap my hands around his neck before it went through me, scorching everything, promising an earthquake.
“Roman!”
“Come on, babe. Keep it the fuck going.” As if it was so damned easy. “I wanna feel you clenching this dick 'til I blow.”
Hugging his powerful ass, I lost it. I thought I knew what an orgasm felt like from using my vibrator, but having my pussy wrapped around his dick drilled it into my brain, introduced me to a new sensation a thousand light years from earth.
It's different. It's incredible. Shit, I think I'm addicted.
I could've said the same about him – not just the sex. Something about being fucked by an outlaw giant three times my size fueled the hormones blazing in my veins.
I couldn't hold back. I didn't try. I came as hard as he commanded, throwing my head back and screaming my lungs out, so loud I wondered if any of the other rough bastards inside the clubhouse would come storming out to find out what all the commotion was.
Nothing would've stopped them from seeing us tangled together through the half-fogged windows, locked in ecstasy.
Roman's hips didn't stop either. If anything, they fucked harder, deeper, so fast and relentless I started to worry something would break in our bodies. But then his hips jerked to a stop, and he pressed me deep into the leather with all his weight.
“Goddamn, you're fucking tight.” One more ragged breath and Roman couldn't speak. “This pussy's mine. Mine.”
His cock pulsed, buried deep against my womb, making me feel him swell and twitch. He came with the same raging intensity. The deluge instantly fed my own orgasm like kerosene, and my legs squeezed his waist so hard they hurt.
His come flooded me in molten jets. Pulse after pulse hit m
y womb, so hot and powerful I swore I could feel it. I came so fucking hard, so long, I didn't know if I'd ever be able to walk straight again. I wondered if he'd left me paralyzed.
A small eternity slipped by in the heaving, rocking, sweating mess of us pinched together. My pussy refused to let go until he began to soften, and then I started my long glide down from the high, awakening to his salty lips on mine.
“You fuck pretty hot for a girl who's never done this before. You sure you're not bullshitting me about that virgin thing?” he asked, gently pulling out and wiping his dick. “Never felt a pussy ramp up to a hundred degrees and stay so damned tight.”
Smiling, I caressed his legs with mine, feeling his seed trickle down from my middle. Ugh. I should've been worried, but I told myself there was plenty of time for that later. I'd been taking my birth control as steady as I could, hoping for the big day, and now I could finally put the pills to use.
I couldn't worry. The deed was done. I just wanted to enjoy the moment, the hazy afterglow we'd left in the truck, the smell and warmth of smoking sex.
“Fuck me,” he growled, cupping my mound and feeling our cream pouring out into his hand. “I think I'm in love with this pussy.”
“Yeah? Does that mean I get a second date?”
Roman looked at me, wiped his brow, and laughed. “You gotta be shitting me. You think fucking in an old truck's some kinda date?”
My cheeks flushed and I looked down. Of course not.
How dumb could I be? Dumb enough to entertain love-at-first-fuck, I guess. Suddenly, I wasn't so keen on being so naked before this man.
Embarrassed, I started reaching for my clothes, somewhere in a heap on the floor, when he put his hand on my cheek. “Ah, what's this? I'm just fucking around, Sally. Come on, get dressed and we'll go have some grub. Every chick deserves a sit down date when it's her first time.”
* * * *
The next week defied belief. The fun didn't end with a late night breakfast and another romp at his place.
I dated a bad boy, an outlaw, a man who'd probably strangled guys almost as big and bad as he was with his bare hands.
Roman picked me up a couple days later for a ride on his Harley, and the sweet autumn breeze blew through my hair. Having my hands wrapped around his body was sheer heaven. On his bike, holding him close, all my problems faded into a big fog of masculine spice and rippling muscle.
Roman saved me from having to think. With him, I didn't have to worry about the bad economy, my pissed off cousin, or hurtling toward permanent farm girl status.
I didn't fret skipping college, or feel my stomach twisting in knots when I remembered the only places hiring in Redding were even scarcer and lower paying than Uncle Ralph's ranch.
Him and his bike took me away from all that. He teleported me to an alternate universe of motor oil, dark inks, and pounding hearts, a paradise so awesome I never wanted to come back.
One evening became two, and then an entire week of hard riding, hard fucking, quality time together.
Roman picked me up every sunset, and we tore through the countryside on his bike, occasionally stopping in town for drinks or food. It always ended the same way – my bare ass bouncing beneath him in the bed, or sometimes in the tall, cool grass.
We fucked our way to happiness. We used sex to wipe ourselves clean. Me, with my boredom and mundane worries. Him, with his dark biker obligations, his mysteries, the scary warrior bloodlust I saw darkening his hazel eyes.
Club business, he said, warning me not to wander too deep into his world. And I didn't because when we were alone, the only business he had was me.
We fucked underneath the stars and in his little apartment. We kissed until each other's taste was inscribed on our brains forever. We fucked until neither of us knew night from day, right from wrong, heaven from hell.
One day, he woke me up early at his place. I wiped the sleep from my eyes, and realized he'd just ended a call.
“Get moving, babe. I gotta get you home.” The tension in his strong face told me something was wrong, but he wouldn't say what.
I kept pressing him about it the whole ride home. My heart thudded like never before on the bike, and it had nothing to do with the road tearing by underneath us.
I was scared for him, terrified at his silence.
When we pulled up the dirt path to my family's farmhouse, he ripped off my helmet, and told me he'd call me later. I couldn't let him leave without trying one more time.
“Roman, please...what's the big secret?” I asked, frustration heating my blood. He gave me the same icy stare and looked away, mumbling something about it being nothing I needed to worry about.
I grit my teeth. “Fine then, keep it to yourself. Guess you can tell me now, or I'll just find out later when I come by the clubhouse.”
Shaking his head, he got off his bike, and grabbed me by the shoulders. Then he shook me – and I mean really shook me – so hard I stumbled back scared.
“Don't you fucking dare,” he growled. “Not now. I told you the rules our first night out – I come to you, Sally. Never the other way around. There's a damned good reason for that, and I need you to fucking listen.”
“Listen to what? How can I trust you if you won't tell me what's going on?”
“It's club business,” he snapped, making me hate that two word sucker punch for the first time. “Not yours. I've gotta put my brothers first, second, and third. That's what a man does when he's in the Grizzlies MC.”
Thanks, I thought, feeling the chill realization of how far down the ladder I must be.
“I swore an oath to this patch.” His right hand formed a fist and slapped his chest, right where he wore the roaring bear tattoo underneath his shirt. “What's going on today's between brothers only. You've gotta understand that. Look, you know I like you a lot, but I can't fucking bring you into a world where you don't belong. I'm not gonna be responsible for you getting hurt.”
Hurt? So, it was just as bad as I thought. Maybe worse.
Without another word, he turned his back, and began revving his engine.
Fuck it. I went after him, too upset to worry about the loud motorcycle drawing Uncle Ralph's attention from the fields. He'd look at me with horror if he knew I'd been hanging with a Grizzlies MC man for more than a week.
But it didn't matter. Him leaving did, especially when the chill current swept up my spine, telling me this could be it.
Whatever was going on threatened to pull him away from me forever. It scared me senseless.
“Wait!” I yelled, stepping in front of the bike before he could dart away. “Will I see you alive again? Just tell me the truth. Just that. Please, Roman, don't do anything that'll get you killed. Please.”
Frustration stormed in his eyes. “You'll see me in one piece if you step outta the way right fucking now. I'm going, babe. Don't make me run you over. I've got my orders. Yours are to calm the hell down and let me go. I'll be back for you. Promise. Right now, there's shit I have to do, and nobody's standing in my way. Not even you.” His cold, angry voice chilled me.
I wilted. My feet dragged on the ground as I reluctantly stepped away, watching as he sped off without so much as a wave goodbye.
I thought it was the last glimpse of him I'd ever have. Forever.
Turns out, forever was actually a little under two years.
* * * *
Weeks rolled by, and there was no call. No note in the mailbox. No breaking news in the paper or on TV about a bloody battle that left men dead anywhere in NorCal.
Nothing.
I couldn't take it. I had to find out what happened.
My next visit to the clubhouse was a fucking disaster. I drove in about a month after he disappeared, circling past the gruff faced guards by the gate, hoping I'd see some sign of him.
But if I did, that would've been worse. If he'd chosen this way to dump me...
I bit my lip, trying to keep it together, especially around all these scary, rough stran
gers.
An older man with long gray hair named Blackjack answered all my questions. Thank God, because he was the most approachable of the bunch. He told me Roman was in prison, part of his service to the club for...God only knew what.
“Club business,” the weathered warrior said.
I hated those two words before, and now I fucking loathed them. For any woman unfortunate enough to be in the Grizzlies MC's orbit, it was like having the door slammed in her face.
Of course, I broke down in my car. I wasn't just chasing him because I wanted to find out he was still breathing, though that was a big part of it.
I had something to tell him, a slow motion disaster building by the second.
“Why are you crying, girl? Look at me.” Blackjack's eyes were surprisingly soft, far kinder than any ruthless killer's had any business being. Looking at the ENFORCER patch on his cut told me he ranked higher than Roman, which probably meant he'd been into even darker things for far longer.
“That's my business,” I said. “Mine and Roman's. Is there an address where I can reach him? Maybe visiting hours or something?”
Blackjack shook his head. “It's too dangerous. Where he's going, rival gangs use visiting time to sneak up on a man and cut his throat. He knows to keep his head down, refuse everybody, even from the club. Sure, the guards will come in blazing, but by the time they break up the fight, he'll be bled out like a slaughtered hog if somebody gets a lucky stab.”
Jesus. Telling him in person would've been hard enough.
Now, this old vulture was telling me I wouldn't get a single chance for nearly two years? If ever?
“Stay there a second,” Blackjack said after a moment, watching new tears pulling at my eyes. “I'll get some paper and pass along a PO box where you can send him letters.”
I hated sitting there and staring at the clubhouse wall. A huge mural of a ferocious grizzly bear leered out from the side, its mouth stretched wide, ready to devour everything. Right now, it was chewing my world apart, piece by bloody piece.
I barely knew the club, and I hated it. I certainly wouldn't be the first in Redding to feel that way. Uncle Ralph told me they were no good, though my cousin, Norman, always said they were the only thing stopping even bigger rotten apples from rolling into town and taking over.
