Love, Loyalty & Mayhem: A Motorcycle Club Romance Anthology

by Ryan Michele

  No sooner does my ass kiss the stool, does the foxy Loretta have a pint of lager ready for me to sip. I pull out my wallet and slap a fifty on the bar as payment and tip. Happy to see me, a smile breaks across that angelic face. Then she reaches across the bar and tugs on my beard in hello. No words are necessary. I’m happy to sit and watch her work all night. That ass is hypnotizing in skin-tight leopard print leggings, like Peg Bundy wore in Married with Children. The top she’s got on ain’t much different, either. It’s black and hangs off one shoulder, then dips down to show off a classy amount of cleavage. Bet the tips are rollin’ in tonight. They damn well better be with her lookin’ like that. Though, I’m glad to see she didn’t go for heels and has on the pair of black flats I bought her years ago. Man, what’s it been? Four years? Five? Time flies when you’ve been screwin’ the same gal for twenty years.

  Not giving a damn about who’s here, I perch an elbow on the bar and sip my beer in private. It’s a dark, smooth blend, just how I like.

  Some suit wearin’, pretty boy down the way catcalls Loretta as she passes him to fill a different order. She turns and flips him off with a smile. He throws his head back and laughs along with his friends. I slap another fifty down to get her to serve me again, before him. The dick notices and does the same with a defiant chin lift. Game on, douchebag. I add another fifty. He slaps down the same, plus a fiver. Callin’ his bluff, I toss out a hundred like it ain’t no thing. ‘Cause it ain’t. I’ve owned the same gun and ammo shop goin’ on twenty years. It’s done me well. That, and I live with my brothers on our Sacred Sinner compound. No cost of living. His jaw clenches as that clean-shaven face turns a healthy shade of tomato red. I wink, then smirk, knowin’ I’m about to win whatever’s goin’ down.

  Nothing happens for a good bit as his friends lean into some frat boy huddle tryin’ to figure out how to best the old biker down the bar. Little do they know, the woman they’re objectifyin’ I plan to fuck in a few short hours. Not that it matters, when I can get Loretta a fat stack of cash to take home tonight.

  When the dark-haired goddess that rocks my world finishes fillin’ a dozen or more orders, she saunters back my way to top me off. Before she makes it, the douches have convened and wallets open. They compile what cash they’ve got to add to the stack. There’s a good four hundred maybe five there. Not bad.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” Pretty Boy whistles, shoving the money out for her to collect.

  Loretta spins their way. “Can I help you?” Those long lashes flutter with enough flirtation to make half the bar hard as a rock.

  Blondie Boy winks at me like he’s won before addressing her. “If you can get us a round of top-shelf cognac next, this would be in it for ya.” Cash is lined along the edge closest to my gal, who takes the stack and pockets it without a second thought. Good girl.

  The men high-five as she fills their orders with an extra pep in her step. Each of the four glasses are set in front of the douchebags before she walks to my end of the bar, reaches out, grabs a fistful of my beard, yanks me out of my seat and halfway across the fuckin’ thing to lay a soul burning kiss on my lips. And I let her. Damn, do I let her.

  Our tongues meet like old friends, tangling across the wooden top as my stomach digs into the side. I swallow Loretta’s needy little moans until the fox is left panting, and I’m so hard I could pound a dozen nails into concrete.

  When she pulls away and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, I do my best to conceal the spike in my pants. A smug, grateful smile consumes my face as I retake my seat.

  “There’s more where that came from.” She fans herself, smiling all sweet and bashful when I know she’s anything but.

  “I’d hope so.” I down the rest of my beer, not givin’ a damn who saw our little show.

  “I’ve missed your…” Those sparkling eyes flick to where I’m hiding an erection.

  I cover it with my hand, knowin’ she can’t see it. “Oh, yeah? It’s only been ten days.” We try to get together a handful of times a month. With all that’s been goin’ on at the club, things haven’t worked in our favor.

  “A week too long.” She grabs my empty glass and saunters that sexy ass away to refill it. Yet, the money I left still sits on the counter, untouched. I should’ve guessed she wouldn’t take more than the fifty. She never does, no matter how much I try to give her. Beautiful, stubborn woman. Guess I’ll pay her in other ways tonight. Orgasm currency sounds mighty fuckin’ fine.

  I check the glowing Miller Lite clock above the register.

  Only two hours and twelve minutes ‘til I get to make good on our monthly arrangement. It’s about damn time. I missed my gal.

  3

  Loretta

  Brick digs into my palms as they press against the wall outside the bar, in the alleyway after my shift. Animal print leggings and panties cuff around my knees. I push my ass back to give Blimp the perfect angle to stick that fat cock into my cunt. I’m wet for him. Have been all night. That stunt he pulled with the businessmen has me hotter than a firecracker. I need him here and now. We can’t wait. It’s been too long.

  A rough hand clamps over my hip as Blimp’s tip glides through my folds, teasing me, smearing his pre-cum around.

  “Please,” I whine, rotating my ass for more friction.

  Blunt fingers sink into my flesh, deep enough to bruise. I relish every second. Hungry for whatever he’s willing to give, my eyelids flutter in submission as I let him take control. A cool breeze swirls through the alley, arousing goosebumps. I shiver.

  “Say it,” Blimp commands.

  “Please.”

  He swats my ass. “No. No. No, naughty slut. Say it.”

  Oh, how I’ve missed you, baby. That dirty talk. That dick.

  Knowing what he seeks, I give Blimp what he wants. “I need your fat cock.”

  Rewarding my words, he slides in the smallest bit. “Need it. Eh?”

  “Yes,” I moan, not caring who hears.

  Blimp knocks my feet apart, forcing me to widen my stance. The leggings roll down to my ankles, baring my legs. “What else you gotta say?” he prompts.

  What else does he want? What more can I say? Can’t he see I’m at his mercy? That I always will be?

  When I don’t reply quick enough, a sharp sting radiates across my backside as his hand brands flesh. I cry out. Not from pain, but desire. Frustration. I don’t like to wait. This is the sexiest form of torture. Watching him sitting at my bar, drinking my drinks just so he can see me has always been a turn on. He knows it. I know it. It’s our hottest form of foreplay. One neither of us will admit to, but a game we both play to have moments like this.

  Growing impatient, Blimp prompts a second time. “Well?”

  Saying what must be said, I express my innermost feelings. “I missed you.” More than any woman should.

  Gentle, almost reverent, fingertips brush my hip bone, swirling designs there as Blimp’s cock remains motionless, hovering inside my pussy. “What’d you miss?” His voice is low and jagged.

  “Your dick.”

  An inch glides in, stretching my walls around its immense girth.

  “What else?”

  “That mouth.”

  Another inch has my toes curling in my shoes. Sweat beads on my brow as he touches that special spot, sending sparks of pleasure straight to my nipples. They harden, stabbing the lace of my bra. A rush of air bursts from my lungs and my stomach quakes, as he grants me mercy giving a second inch. We’re halfway there.

  “And?” Blimp grits. Resuming his hold on my hip with one hand, he releases his dick with the other to gain complete control.

  “You.” I missed you so much.

  “That’s right, my sweet, sweet, slut, you missed me.” With that Blimp slams home, giving me the full eight inches to the hilt, knocking my world askew. I pitch forward, taking the brunt of his power, but Blimp’s got me, as he always does.

  Using me as his fuck toy, he pistons his thickness in and out of my
hole relentlessly, not giving me a chance to work for it. To beg. To do anything more than go along for the brutal, erotic ride.

  “That’s it, slut. Take it.” He lands another smack, and my walls convulse around his shaft. I almost come.

  He unleashes another, knowing the right buttons to push.

  And it works.

  Closing my eyes, I throw my head back and scream into the night as starbursts of colors explode behind my lids. I shudder, knees giving out. But there’s Blimp, anchoring my smaller body to his larger, much softer and cuddlier form. His beard tickles the back of my neck as he pulls out and…

  “Fuck!” Blimp jerks away as blinding police lights fill the alleyway. An officer exits his car.

  I stand here dumbfounded, watching him approach with my shoulder resting against the building, bottoms around my ankles. I squint to make the man out, trying my damndest to see if this is a joke, or if we’re caught with our pants down.

  When I glance at Blimp, he’s grinding his jaw, nostrils flaring, clothes back in place. Unlike me, who still has orgasm brain. It’s a thing. I promise. One night with Blimp and you’d understand. It’ll make you forget your own name. Or the fact you’re flashing the popo your hoo-ha. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound. I let it ride.

  The young blond officer stops a safe distance away as he eyes Blimp. Noticing the leather cut, he pulls his gun. Rookie. This punk is out patrolling on a Friday night in our town by himself, and he has the balls to draw his weapon because of a Sacred Sinner. Big‘s gonna have a field day with this. So is this boy’s chief, Wanda, when I tell her about it.

  “Get back in your car, son. Leave us be,” Blimp warns, both arms down at his sides, fists flexing and unflexing in anger.

  The officer raises his gun and aims it at Blimp’s chest.

  Dumbshit.

  Not fazed in the least, my favorite guy looks at me. “Sweetheart, get yourself together, please.”

  Right. Clothes.

  Sighing, I push off the wall to do as I’m told. Which is boring, but whatever. It’s obvious the newcomer doesn’t know the score, or he’d have apologized and left. Trust me when I say this isn’t the first, nor will it be the last time, Blimp and I have gotten caught having naughty fun outdoors. Thing is, we won’t do it with kids around and adults are smart enough to turn a blind eye.

  “Identification, sir,” the rookie addresses Blimp, who then slaps the patch on his chest that displays his name.

  The police officer repeats himself. “Identification, sir.”

  Rolling my eyes, I rest my back against the building, hoping this game will be over soon so we can get back to fucking. Maybe not here, but somewhere. His tongue will be on my clit by night’s end.

  Not one to fight authority in my presence, Blimp produces his wallet without argument and hands over his ID. The cop radios it in over the com on his shoulder. The person who responds is laughing their ass off when they reply. I press my lips together to keep from joining them. The rookie’s face turns beet red as he holsters his weapon, but…

  Oh, this little dickhead is not pulling out the cuffs.

  “Turn around, sir. Place your hands behind your back.”

  Blimp arches his brow at me, almost amused. Almost.

  “Sure thing.” Blimp complies. I have to cover my mouth to keep from losing it. This is too damn funny. If I hadn’t left my phone in the bar, I’d take a picture to send to Jade. She’d love this. So would my son.

  “Ma’am.” The officer addresses me after he has Blimp locked down.

  “Yes?”

  “Can you please follow behind? I’m taking you in, as well. Don’t run or I will have to chase you.”

  This keeps getting better and better. We’re headed for the slammer.

  I cock my head to the side. “Can you tell me what you’re arresting us for?”

  “I think that’d be obvious, ma’am. You and Mr. Blimp were illegally exposing yourselves.”

  The poor thing can’t even say it aloud. How old is this kid? Josh’s age?

  I play along because this’ll make for a damn good story. “Right. So, you’re arresting us for having sex behind a bar?”

  “That is correct, ma’am. Now please come along, or I’ll have to cuff you, too.”

  It’s Blimp’s turn to press his lips together to keep from busting a gut. He knows all too well how much I love cuffs. The real ones. None of those toy gadgets.

  I nod in compliance. “Yes, officer.”

  Satisfied with my docile response, I stroll ahead of them to the rear of the patrol car. Still holding onto Blimp’s bicep, the officer opens the back door and folds my fuckbuddy in first before giving me a chance to enter. Once we’re locked inside, I look at Blimp, he looks at me, we lean in, give the other a quick kiss, then smother whatever laugher we want to unleash until we reach the station, which isn’t more than a five-minute trip.

  4

  Blimp

  Seated on a bench in the middle of our small-town police station, Loretta’s knee bounces beside mine. The second Officer Shitstain brought us in, the place has been buzzing like bees. Even at the early hour, eyes flash our way in concern. They know what’s up. If they’re smart, they do. It’s common sense ‘round these parts.

  They’re lucky word hasn’t reached Big or Gunz, yet. I give it another twenty minutes before my prez busts through that front door and causes a scene nobody will soon forget. If Loretta hadn’t been with me, Officer Shitstain woulda learned the hard way we don’t take kindly to guns bein’ aimed at our chest. But I'm not about to get my favorite gal cuffed on account of me bein’ a biker. So, I’ll play along to this pathetic charade ‘til it no longer suits me.

  Elbows restin’ on her knees, Loretta shakes that pretty head. “What’s takin’ so damn long?” she hisses under breath.

  I knock my knee into hers in support, since my hands are still incapacitated. “Babe, it’s early in the mornin’. We might be here a while, ‘til someone shows up to scold that stupid kid.” I get rules are rules and laws are laws, but we weren’t hurtin’ anybody and were keepin’ to ourselves. He ruined that. Didn’t even give me time to bust a nut in that sweet, sweet, wet cunt. The only hole I go bare in. Do you know what that does to a man? To his dick? Condom fuckin’ works and all, but bareback is a whole different world of pleasure. Seein’ as though I’ve only ever done it with Loretta, I’m pissed. That slit looks mighty sexy with cum dripping from it.

  “My son is gonna lose his mind.”

  She’s not wrong. White Boy respects his mama. Would kill for her... die for her, as would I.

  “So is my prez.” Let’s pray Big doesn’t try to send a message by doin’ something rash. Since he and his old lady have settled down, he’s been better, more even-keeled. Though, you can’t take the outlaw outta a biker any more than you can take the bite from a dog.

  Loretta sits up and looks at me, eyes wide. “Oh shit. Big. I didn’t even think about him.”

  “Let this be a lesson to the new blood ‘round here. Better they learn it with us than pickin’ somebody else up. Can you imagine what’d happen if Bink got arrested?”

  The flash of horror that crosses her face says it all. You arrest Bink, you die a slow and painful death. No questions asked.

  “Guess it’s a good thing I’m a club whore and not someone’s old lady,” she remarks, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The cop saw her pussy. My slut’s pussy. Oh, you bet there will be hell to pay when she’s not around. Club biz doesn’t go down with bitches present. Never has, never will. Not if I can help it.

  I lean over and peck my gal’s cheek to calm her britches. “It’s gonna—” The rest of my words fade away as a familiar, brass-balled voice causes chaos in the station.

  “Who in here arrested Loretta and Blimp?!” Wanda growls, and everybody pauses. The ballbuster has that effect. She might be a woman, but she runs this place, and not a person here would question why. The feisty redhead’s presence says it all.
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  “Moranis did, ma’am,” a female employee explains. I can’t see much, not even Wanda. This bench doesn’t give us much of a view; apart from two windows, two doors, and a whole lotta dingy white walls.

  “Release them now,” she orders.

  I smirk and so does Loretta as we exchange a knowing look. Wanda is a far better outcome than Big. Her clout in this place has a helluva lot more staying power than his.

  “But… Captain.” It’s Moranis A.K.A. Officer Shitstain.

  Loretta’s nose wrinkles in distaste upon hearing his voice.

  Wanda scoffs, having none of his back talk. “I don’t want to hear it. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not in a month. When I get woken in the middle of the night with this shit, Moranis, I am not a happy woman. I’ve ordered you, and every single officer under my command to never arrest a Sacred Sinner without my permission. And when I say you don’t arrest a Sacred Sinner, you don’t arrest a Sacred Sinner. Are we clear?”

  “But they were—” Oh, little boy wants to argue with the boss. This won’t go well for him. Even I don’t fuck with the authority in my club. You respect leadership. Damn kid needs to learn his place.

  “Did I ask what they were doing? Does it look like I give a damn? ‘Cause I don’t. Release them at once, or you’re out on your ass.”

  “Yes, Captain. Sorry, Captain.” The idiot scurries into the room, headed straight for me, to unlock my cuffs. Wanda’s right on his tail, standing in the door frame; her face bright red, jaw set. She glances at Loretta, then me. That’s when she notices Officer Shitstain unlocking my wrists from behind my back. If I thought she was angry before, nothing covers the fury boiling in her veins now.