by V. Theia
Rider's hand was doing its own coaxing by sliding up her outer thigh tormenting her exposed skin. Zara could barely stand it, the desire from him, the same she was feeling, was intoxicating.
Higher he went and then he touched her core.
Soundless sobs tore from her throat, racking her, as her lower body pumped against his hand, groaned some more when he slipped a finger into her.
His longest one, the one that could reach places to make her squirm.
His thumb pushed through her folds grazing her clit.
Oh god. The biker president knew what he was doing alright.
Her G-spot was being tormented with idle rubs.
She jerked uncontrollably and moaned.
"Is this better? You needed me inside you."
“Yes.” she breathed, jerking her hips forward just a little bit, the friction felt like heaven “But you knew that already.” Her words ended shakily. On the verge of an orgasm.
So desperate, she tried to hurry him when his finger stilled inside her.
“Good, baby, kinda like you tellin’ me it straight like that.” his grin melted her. “You’ll get used to askin’ me for what you need. Twice a day, five times a day, you come to me, baby, you got it? And I’ll make you feel all better again. Now tell me why you been moody as fuck with me when I woke you this mornin’ with my dick shovin’ as deep into you as I could get. You seemed to like it all the screamin’ and please, Ambrosio you were doin’. Rode you twice, Icy, made you come three times, not that I’m countin’, you were soaked and smilin’ when I left, all soft and pleasured and worn out from my fuckin’, so that shouldn’t have put you in a piss-poor mood, should it?”
One long stroke of his thumb, her clit pulsing, craving more, she was at his erotic mercy, his question re-created this morning, he’d rolled her onto her belly even before she’d been fully awake, jerking her ass up into the air with his two large hands, his voice so gruff, sleep-laden, sexy when he’d grunted he’d woke aroused because of her and needed to give it to her hard and she better hold on tight. Zara had been close to the first orgasm before she’d fully come to consciousness.
To hell with her pride. “I didn’t like that woman…” that thirsty bitch, “talking about you with … with all that history you share. She knows how you like your dick sucked, for god's sake, Rider. And she’s in the clubhouse bragging right in front of me and everyone all day long about what she’s going to do to you when you get back, and there I am having to listen to it all, she’s saying all this knowing fine well who I am and pressing her boobs into you. INTO YOU, Rider! All breathy and sexy with the oh Rider hungry bullshit”
She’d been flirtatious so naturally, something Zara was still unsure of.
She’d never flirted with Rider and maybe she was a little jealous someone else could do it so naturally with him.
“Fuckin’ hell, baby. Your jealousy tastes good.“ The grin split his face.
Ugh. Of course, he would like that. “You’re an asshole!”
“Yeah, baby. The asshole who gets you off.” As if wanting to give her proof he stabbed his long finger twice more, making her cry out, before he removed his hand, leaving Zara shaken and unfulfilled. “Now take what you need from me. My cock is hot and hard and waitin’ anytime you wanna crawl up into my lap and take what you want. Show me who it belongs to. Soak me good. First time I’m gonna be in your raw, I wanna feel everythin’.”
Zara didn’t know what came over her, this primal instinct, but boy did she show him for two hours, fucking his brains out, they’d cried out together so many times her throat felt scratchy, he’d looked edible and so bad beneath her, looking up with pride and sexual hunger in his eyes as she indeed did take what she wanted from him over and over again until even she at the end had to tap out, as she collapsed at his side on that narrow twin bed, half laid on top of Rider, her chest pumping wildly for air, both of them sheened with sweat.
Her hormones were still under his sensual spell
For long minutes neither of them spoke, comfortable enough to enjoy the comedown and the quiet of each other, it was still so new to Zara, that this bad-ass biker man wanted her. Truly wanted her.
Rider laid a palm on her flat belly and she twisted her head to look at him.
“They don’t know I’m yours, Icy. You don’t touch me out there, you’re only my dirty she-devil in my bed.” he smirked.
Zara rolled her eyes. “What should I do, unzip your dick while we’re eating dinner so everyone knows I’m on it and I don’t share?”
“It’s the language the groupies know. You have to understand, the club life is all they’re used to, it has its own rules and hierarchy among the chicks, Zara. All they see is this new woman around their men. I can tell them to back off, but take it from me, it’ll be better from you, they’ll respect you more.”
“God almighty, Rider. I’m not getting into cat fights with bitches too dumb to know a man is taken and off the cock sucking market. I mean really, it’s a little backward, it’s the twenty-first century, should I host a coming out ball for you, maybe put a ring on it.” she didn’t mean his hand when her eyes darted south.
Rider laughed.
“I had to listen to that bitch talk about you all afternoon, and firing me bitchy looks, telling her gaggle of other bitches just how she was going to bounce on your cock because she knows,” Zara threw up the air quote fingers “’just how you like it’ All afternoon, Rider! And then to walk in on her rubbing her boobs in your face…” her short inhale finished her sentence.
“Wait up. You heard ‘em talkin’ about me and you didn’t step in and tell ‘em you were ridin’ my dick?”
She guffawed. “As if I would do that. Oh, by the way, ladies, I’m hitting that, sorry to disappoint you. I might be a former whore but I’d like to think I have a bit more class than that.”
“Yeah, baby. Exactly like that. And don’t ever fuckin’ call yourself that again” He growled.
Zara bypassed his warning. She was what she was, no denying it. “You’re joking? Say that, really?”
“I told you it’s the language they understand.”
“Jesus,” she chuckled rolling her eyes. She was Dorothy in Oz.
“Sweet baby. Stop talkin’ now, you’ll figure out the groupies in your own time. But you talked about hittin' my dick and now you gotta keep your word. Climb on..I'm fuckin' addicted to being raw inside your pussy, wanna get you wetter until it feels like I’m fuckin’ warm butter.” his smirk was so lewd and held a lot of promise for dirty things Zara laughed out loud smacking him.
“You’re disgusting, Rider. “
“I am. Now get the fuck on my cock and gimme it hard. Show me how an old lady owns me. It’s you I want bouncin’ on me.”
Of course, she showed him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Fuck my troubles away...“ – Hawk
“What’s got you on edge? More than normal, anyway? You’ve been MIA for more than a day, the same last week and Snake threw a clear insult in church and you left him with his head.”
Hawk paused wrapping tape around his hands, caught the glance from Rider before his head cranked down to continue winding the tape ignoring the curious look from his best friend and president.
Around and around he covered his hands in the white tape, tight over his knuckles, wound hard near the thumb so he could pull the gloves on over it. Hawk never minded getting his body busted up, he welcomed the pain sometimes, but this was just sparring. No point in getting broken if he could avoid it.
Five days after Gia had left the compound and he was still strung out like a junkie jonesing for the needle straight to the femoral artery.
“Nada.” He spoke finally, grabbing one of the black gloves he shoved his hand inside, followed suit with its mate.
“Bullshit, Hawk.”
His shoulder rolled. “I let Snake off this time. Not in the mood for his humor.”
“Exactly. So, what the fuck is up? D
o you need to take off for a while, is it that time again?”
That time again. He felt like shit that Rider had a term for his fucking neurosis.
Stillness.
The air thinned out as Hawk’s lungs hesitated for a second then kick started again.
He made his body move. To act normal. Whatever that fucking meant.
Striding his long legs over to the punching bags hung from the ceiling by thick chains he gave it a push first. The bag weighed close to two hundred pounds, a fair opponent for the rage that lived within Hawk. He swung once more, gentle, testing it out, found his rhythm four punches later making the bag swing with every hard swipe of his fist.
Rider joined him a minute later. Praying he'd let it drop. Rider was a fucking bulldog with certain crap. Side by side the two friends worked-out on the bags and Hawk thought Rider had thank-fuck-fully dropped the subject until.
“Do you need to get away, Hawk? It’s not good fuckin’ time, but we can spare you if that’s what you gotta do.”
Get away.
A polite way for the president to say he thought Hawk was losing his shit again and he should take time off to go fuck and beat someone up until he was back to normal.
Normal. What the fuck was that anyway? He'd once known a bunch of people who per society were normal when in fact they were the devil himself in disguise.
At least he was only a highly functioning monster.
But as he took a side glance at Rider, those penetrating blue eyes trained on him, he was holding the bag with one arm, leaning into it as he surveyed Hawk, he felt his belly coil tight and painful, bile rushing up his oesophagus.
That’s what normal looked like. Rider was a normal guy. If only.
He had the little girl now didn’t he, making his life even more normal. Nice.
Hawk didn’t know what nice felt like. He was too fucked up in his own mind to even try to achieve nice and normal and not with...her.
Never with her.
His voice was flat when he replied. “Nothing is wrong, Rider. Drop it, would you? you're creeping me out with the emotions. I don’t need to get away, if I do I’ll let my president know with plenty of notice.”
Nothing to do with me thinking of fucking your baby sister until she can’t walk. Or licking her between the legs until my tongue falls off and her thighs squeeze my head so hard she deafens me.
“I’m not your fuckin’ president right now, you, shithead. I’m your friend and you’re acting like something is up.”
Hawk deflected, swinging once more at the bag before his own eyes switched to Rider.
“You going to marry that girl, make her your old lady?”
“That girl?” Rider’s tone changed from concern to a warning. Darkness staining his tone
As Hawk, had known it would.
He knew every brother's trigger.
Again, his belly tensed. He knew already that girl was going to be sticking around. It wasn't just a sex thing. Rider had it bad.
“She has a fuckin’ name. Jesus. Is that what this is, you don’t like Zara? For fuck's sake, really, Hawk?”
He didn’t like her. But that was here nor there. It was nothing personal and all personal. What could he say to Rider that wouldn’t have him pissed off about it?
“Are you?”
Rider sighed, using one gloved hand to push the other onto his hand. Eyes still narrowed.
“If that’s what she wants, eventually. Yeah, I will. Now, you gonna fuckin’ answer me? You got a problem with Zara?”
“I have no problem.” he lied with ease and zero guilt, after all Rider was the best friend he ever had, the first friend ... he didn't want to hurt him by saying his girl gave him the fucking skin crawl heebies, not because of who she was, because he hadn't taken the time to find out, but what she represented, what she put in front of Hawk's eyes every time he looked at her. She dragged up his own demons until he thought he'd vomit.
He had so many fucking problems they were stacked ten high, but that was Hawk’s existence and nothing he needed to analyze, he lived with himself, he knew already. No amount of touchy-feely bull shit talking would change it.
Hawk would rather gouge his own eyes out.
He respected Rider more than any man, any club brother, but his girl embodied memories he’d prefer to bury in the desert.
Whenever he looked at her he saw his past ugly and glaringly real all over her sweet normal face. “She’s fine. I don’t know her, Prez.” He added to the room, avoiding Rider’s watchful gaze.
“Told you, not your president right now, but you should know, Hawk, I don’t believe a fuckin’ word outta your mouth. And I’ma fill you in real quick because I know you and what you’re not sayin’, and tell you if you hurt my woman in any way we’re gonna have us a problem, you get me? I won’t be your president then either, Hawk. I mean it, do not even fuckin’ look at Zara the wrong way. You are my friend, my best fuckin’ friend, we’ve been through some shit haven’t we, side-by-side, I’d kill for you. But you hurt my woman. Not gonna be happy about it.”
Hawk snorted not offended. Rider was a bleeding heart. That's what normal looks like. So much better than Hawk was.
He cocked his brow and said. “I’m not planning on doing anything to that girl, calm down, Rocky. Now we gonna stand around talking about our feelings all day or we doing this?”
Zara was not the girl Hawk wanted on his mind.
Rider cocked a grin. "Fine. Ring the bell, shithead."
Hawk met it with his own nasty grin, held his hand in the air. "ding ding."
All through the spar session with Rider, both men throwing banter around, taunting the other, making them faster, honing their reflexes, Hawk thought of only one woman and it had nothing to do with the new one inside the club changing shit.
Nah., It was his little bit of a thing.
His. Not his.
The only woman he was staying far away from. Until the end of fucking time. Maybe Rider was right and it was time to take off for a while, hit the road and clear his head.
He wouldn’t think of Gia if he was balls deep inside some other pussy.
Or so that was the theory. Hadn’t worked yet.
His cock only wanted one wetness choking it. Would only come alive for one. The last time being a few days ago.
Goddamn her.
She didn't even know the leash she'd tied around him.
Or just what a fucked-up monster he was when it was fear or her that could get him off.
And Hawk had a feeling Rider would throw around an objection or six if he knew the only stress reliever he wanted was found under his baby sister's skirt.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
"Sometimes toast just won't cut it for breakfast, Icy. Want between your legs." – Rider
As with most things, Zara’s life settled into a new routine. The sun rose and fell over the club, days ticked by one by one. Normalcy seemed to happen really quickly for the men once the lockdown was called off, like raiding and killing had never occurred just a few weeks ago. Some club boys left to go on several days’ worth of runs out of town, not entirely sure where they went or why, but they usually came back full of boasted stories and pleased with whatever had transpired.
Zara was in that weird medium of the before and the after. Unsure what she was doing with her life, she knew one thing; she was using Rider as a buffer between herself and everything else.
She had still to call her parents.
Needing to decide what to do with her life again she simply avoided by having as much sex as she could with the president. She didn't know how she'd fallen into that pattern, only acknowledged she was doing it.
Hiding was an ugly annoying word.
She was determined to get a life and soon.
The only thing Zara had right, she thought, was the urges she felt towards Rider.
"Oh…ohh.. Jesus... please, Rider. I need it."
His fingers went in mercilessly deep, the stroking drove h
er mad, he curled them as if he meant to drag the orgasm out of her by any means necessary, only she really felt it when he touched his tongue tip to the hood of her clit, his fingers never stopped moving, in ... out ... deep ... around ... he gave her one long lick, not at all polite, it was a hard, obscene, fierce lick, growling the entire time. He licked her again and again, sucking her clit against his tongue.
Oh god. Yes. I want this so bad.
The sight of Rider with his bare bronzed shoulders, one covered in colorful ink, popped muscle beneath the skin, hunched against her spread thighs, his head moving so he could deepen the intimate kiss sending shards of pleasure to where it's needed, Zara arched her back, braced her foot to the counter and as his two fingers punched into soft soaked tissue she cried out his name. Cries that were throaty and agonized like an animal, she was so far beyond caring if anyone heard her, she had lost touch with reality.
It was only this way with Rider.
How he made her feel.
She could easily lay there and let him possess her, to be his thing forever.
"Again."
Zara lifted her heavy head, blinked through the haze.
Was he crazy? She panted looking down at him. No way she could do that again so soon. She'd die. The orgasm had been powerful enough she was still feeling it shudder in strong ripples while he petted and stroked her slowly.
And she told him so. "Rider, honey, I don't think I can do that ever again. Let me take care of you now."
His face gradually moved in, drawing closer and closer as his gaze focused on her lips then up to her eyes.
Smiling. Smoldering. Gorgeous.
Zara's heart was beating like crazy and her stomach was clenched tight in that way only he made her feel, anticipating his next move.
She wanted so many again's she was stunned by the number.
Everything.
That's what she craved.
"Again, baby." To prove he was in charge, his longest middle finger caressed into her and touched her G-spot, the place that had her jackknifing almost toppling off the counter, to save herself she wrapped her other leg over his shoulder and he used his palms on her butt to drag her closer to the edge giving him full access to her pussy.
