I belatedly realise that I should have found out about our destination before and told someone who I was going out with tonight. Truth is, I expected my co-workers and friends to find it amusing, so had kept the details of my date quiet.
But hey, we’re here. I’m safe.
He taps my leg and I interpret it as a sign that I should get off the bike. I do, balancing my hand on his shoulder, then stand back as he walks the bike back into a parking spot. The ground feels firm and stable under legs which are still trembling from the vibration of the engine.
After taking my helmet and securing it in the saddlebag, he holds out his hand for me to take, his expression suddenly nervous. “I didn’t check, should have. This going to be okay for you, babe?”
I smile, possibly the most genuine I’ve yet summoned for him. “Perfect.”
“Come on then. Let’s get you fed.”
The next few minutes are taken up with being shown to a table he’d already had the foresight to book, then perusing the menus. Strangely I quickly become relaxed in his company and feel no need to make any pretence. I’ve been on dates before when I’ve eyed all the delicious sounding dishes, only to restrict myself to a salad as I think it’s expected, but with Skull I have no qualms in ordering the same as him, a steak with loaded potatoes. He nods approvingly as I do.
It’s while I’m sipping my wine and him slaking his thirst with a beer, that he reaches over the table and takes my hand.
“Tell me about yourself, Melissa.”
Another good sign. Some men I’ve been with make the evening all about them.
“I work for the city, but you already know that. I’ve got good folks up in Denver, no siblings, I was an only child. I love cooking and reading. See, I’m quite boring.”
“You’re not boring, Melissa. I reckon there’s a lot you’re not saying.”
I shrug. With me, what you see is about what you get. “How about you, Skull? Tell me about the MC and what you actually do for them.”
“Yeah.” His mouth twists. “The MC. Okay, you deserve to know what you might be getting into.” He takes another mouthful of beer. “The Satan’s Devils MC is like one big family. We’ve got a few chapters around—our mother chapter is in Tucson, Arizona—but I ride with the Pueblo crew.”
“The mother chapter. Do you have to do what they tell you?”
“Nah and yes.” He gives a quick grin. “The by-laws and regulations are the same all over, but the local prez runs things how he wants. We choose what businesses we want to get into.”
My heart stops. Is this where he’s going to tell me he’s a criminal? It’s easy sitting here with him, more natural than I would have thought. If he’s now going to list the reasons why he’s not right for me, I already know I’ll be upset. But I can’t tie my flag to the mast of a man who walks on the wrong side of life.
“Your face is very expressive.” He takes back my hand that I hadn’t realised I’d moved away. “Our businesses won’t cause you worry. We run a strip club, yes. Let’s get that out of the way. All the dancers work for us voluntarily, none of them are forced, and we don’t allow drugs on the premises. We also run a bowling alley that’s very family-orientated, a tattoo parlour and an auto-shop. Recently we’ve started up a new security business.”
I’d stiffened at strip club, but slowly became more relaxed as he listed the rest. “What do you do for them?”
“I started off at the auto-shop, but also work with Cad—he’s our computer expert—and one of my other biker brothers, Pal in SD security.”
My teeth worry my lip. “That’s not code for protection rackets, is it?”
Again, he tosses back his head and gives a hearty laugh. “Nah. We install state-of-the-art security systems.”
I’m thoughtful for a moment. “Sounds like any other company with diverse interests. How did the MC decide to get into those businesses, and how long have you ridden with the Satan’s Devils? Oh, and why?”
Chapter Five
Melissa
“That’s a lot of questions,” he observes. But he doesn’t seem at all upset I’ve asked him. “What do you know about motorcycle clubs?”
“I’ve heard of the big ones which have quite a reputation.” Mostly I’ve just watched Sons of Anarchy three times, but I keep that to myself.
“Yeah, I suspect you’re referring to the Wretched Soulz?”
I nod, I am. Though there are others, Wretched Soulz make the headlines quite a lot. They’re known throughout the southern states, all over North America really.
“We do have an affiliation with them, as we’re set up in their territory, but all that means is that they approve of how we run the club.” A strange look comes into his eyes. “We stay out of drugs and gun running.”
I tilt my head at his expression, though quickly it’s replaced by the more familiar smile once again. “Some clubs are set up by vets when they return from overseas. They’re looking for something they find is missing when they come back to civilian life. The Pueblo club started in the early eighties when the steel industry crashed. In fact, our clubhouse is in an old steel mill. Our barbeque pit is a furnace where they could melt half a train at a time.”
My eyes grow wide. “It must be huge.”
“It is,” he agrees, with a quick grin. “Well, getting back on topic. The ex-steelworkers who started the club wanted something to belong to, a place to call home, a family and an income. Back in those days the club wasn’t as clean as it is now. When Hellfire, that’s our current prez's Demon’s father, took over from his dad, Blackie, he joined forces with the Satan’s Devils and got the club out of the worst of the shit.”
“Hold on. You’re saying Demon is the grandson of the founder?” I shake my head. “Sounds like nepotism is alive and well.” I soften my statement with a smile.
“Well that’s their familial relationship, but anything else isn’t how it sounds.” He frowns. “No one got their position because of who they are. We were all happy to vote Demon in. Fuckin’ good man to lead us.”
Message to me, stay out of things I don’t know about. “You say it’s like a family?” I ask, wanting to get onto a safer topic.
“Yes. Take me, I’ve got no one of my own. Now, I’ve got more than a dozen brothers who’d give their lives for me. A few have ol’ ladies, and there’s even a kid.”
“Old ladies? Grandmothers?”
Another bark of laughter. “Nah, that’s what we call the wives or significant others.”
Sounds derogatory to me. Suddenly I realise bikers are a breed I know nothing about. “You don’t have an old lady?”
His eyes grow wide, then he snarls, “Wouldn’t be here with you if I had. Don’t roll that way. One woman at a time is all I can handle.”
Well alright then. I seem to have touched another nerve. “So, tell me more about this family.”
Our steaks arrive. For a moment, conversation stops as we apply our fixings to our meals and begin to eat.
“I like that,” Skull points his fork at me.
“Mmm?” With a mouthful of delicious steak, I can’t respond.
“Your expression. You enjoying your food.” His face becomes heated. “Can’t help wondering if you wear that look when something else is in your mouth.”
A glass of water is hastily pushed in my direction as I choke on my food.
Recovered, I rasp, “I cannot believe you said that.” An unrepentant grin encourages me to have the courage to add, “That’s for me to know and you, if you get lucky, to find out.”
“Oh, I fully intend to get lucky at some point.” Skull catches me off guard once again. “Those lips and that sinful mouth, and your…” His hands wave down my body, and his eyes land on my breasts. “Mmm mmm. Bet you taste better than any steak.”
Flustered, I reach for my wine.
He’s not leering or making me uncomfortable. There’s something about the way he’s speaking that shows his appreciation of liberties he eventually anticipates, but there’s no
pressure either. Despite him being so forward, instead of making me uneasy, he’s making me feel things that no one else ever has. He’s making me think of myself as a desirable woman. Suddenly it doesn’t matter that I’m larger than most, curvier than models in magazines and on billboards. Skull’s completely focused attention is making me feel feminine and wanted.
“If you could do anything, or go anywhere, what would it be and where?”
His question makes me do a one-eighty, but as though he realises he’s skating too close to the edge, Skull reels the conversation back in.
The rest of the evening continues in the same vein. Mostly spent getting to know each other, with occasional inappropriate comments from him, and heaven help me, a bit of flirting from my side too.
At one point I feel bold enough to ask, “How did you get that scar?”
He looks puzzled.
“Over your eye.” I tap my brow to show him.
“Oh, that. Long, long time ago.” He leans in. “I could make up some story about single-handedly disarming an armed robber, fighting pirates or something. Sure, I could come up with something that sounds sexy, but I’ll start as I mean to go on. Total honesty. I was a four-year-old-kid, I got it by falling out of bed and smashing my head on my bedside table. Bled like a bitch.”
Honesty. I like the sound of that.
I like everything about this evening. It’s easy, companionable, with a promise of sexuality. As the end of our meal and our date approaches, it hits me with a start that I can’t remember having enjoyed myself so much with a man before. We might not have known each other long, but now I’m already counting him as a friend, and someone who could possibly become more.
We’ve laughed, been serious, commiserated. Shared jokes and anecdotes in my case about co-workers, in his, his brothers. I’ve heard about Bitch, the cat who appears to be the boss of the compound, and even about the sweet butts who live there as well. I’d frowned when he’d mentioned them, but while he admitted he’d gone with them when he first patched in, having a woman to himself was more to his taste, and not one who’d been shared by all the men of the club.
Skull had apparently spent nearly a year as a probationer, or prospect as he referred to himself, and has only become a patched member for the last couple of months. Another tell, a twitch of his cheek, and I gather there’s a story there he hasn’t yet told. But hey, this is our first date, and we’ve already talked about more coming after. I don’t need to learn everything tonight.
I’d forgotten our age difference and why it had ever bothered me. And who gave a damn I was big and him slender? Now I’m getting to know him, if he finds my curves sexy, I’m certainly not going to argue. I’m not trying to hide so he’ll know what to expect when he eventually ends up in my bed.
My bed. Where I’m currently lying. Alone.
True to his word, Skull had dropped me home, not wanting to come in. He couldn’t trust me to keep my hands to myself, he’d said, while wearing a big wide grin and winking.
Tomorrow night he’s providing security for one of their contracts, but on Sunday he’s going to take me out again.
I can’t freaking wait.
Totally unexpected, having predicted tonight would be a one and only, thinking either him or I, or both, would be bored, I’m already looking forward to the next time I see him. Skull seems far more mature for his years than his looks would have led me to believe.
I really like him.
I hadn’t anticipated doing so.
I thought I’d have found his company tedious.
I did not.
His leaving me on the doorstep with just a peck on the cheek? I’d wanted more.
Saturday passes far too slowly, and I try to occupy myself doing chores. I bake, of course, then notice the state of my oven and clean it. Anything to keep busy.
When Skull pulls up on Sunday, I’m already at the door, having grabbed my purse when I heard his motorcycle’s engine roar. My eagerness is greeted with one of his cocky grins.
As I’m unused to riding, he doesn’t want to take me too far. His choice of destination is again perfect, as we ride up into the forest where it’s cool. Once the bike is parked, we walk hand in hand along a shaded path with the sweet smell of a soft carpet of pine needles underneath, conversation flowing easily, never stopping.
Suddenly Skull comes to a halt, his pause in steps ceasing my forward momentum. As I turn, it’s to see a gleam in his eyes.
“Want to kiss you, Mel. That okay?”
More than okay. The warning, though, has me swallowing nervously. First kisses can be awkward, not knowing what to expect. Where should I put my hands, for example? Does he expect tongues, or just a brush of our lips?
To give myself a moment, I query the shortening of my name. “Mel?”
His eyes darken, then he places his hands on my biceps and he pushes me until I’m pressed up against a tree. “Everyone else calls you by your full name. Want to have something for me.”
Wow. Romantic or what?
He pauses just a second longer, and then, his lips lower.
I shouldn’t have worried, as he takes complete control. My hands naturally go to his shoulders and just hold on for the ride. His tongue invades, his taste immediately mingling with mine, our mouths meld together as though we’ve done this dance many times and this isn’t the first.
The aroma of pine mingles with the leather of his cut as I now know his vest is called, and birdsong, which a moment ago sounded loud, now only just reaches my ears above my murmurs of appreciation, and his growls of encouragement.
Time stops, my brain quiets, and all I can think of is how we are joined, mouth to mouth, his hands holding me close, mine grabbing onto his arms.
I can feel his hard cock pressing into me, but he doesn’t grab my breasts or touch inappropriately.
At last he pulls his head away, leaning down to place his forehead against mine. “When I get you in bed, you’re not coming up for air for a very long time,” he rasps against my skin. “Be warned, darlin’. Once you let me in, that’s where I’m stayin’.”
There’s nothing about that statement of intent that concerns me at all.
In fact, the words spill out of my mouth in a breathless gasp, “Your place or mine?”
He chuckles, softly. “Yours, babe. I live at the club at the moment. But for now, how about another taste?”
After that second kiss, and a few more as we make our way down the mountain, we arrive back at the bike. As he fastens the strap of the helmet under my chin, I find myself trying to picture how I left my place. Is there underwear strewn across my bedroom floor? I shaved my legs, are there hairs still in the shower tray? Is there makeup left around? That box of tampons isn’t still left out from last week is it?
He stares into my eyes. “Doesn’t have to happen today, Mel. Not if it’s too soon.”
The fact I’m worrying about all the insignificant things perhaps means that it is.
The fact he doesn’t mind, shows me Skull is a good man.
When he drops me off, Skull smooths his hand down the side of my face. “Can’t make it tomorrow or Tuesday, I’ve got work.” His grimace shows he’d prefer to spend time with me instead. “Wednesday we’ve got church, that’s our club meeting. But Thursday I can be all yours if you want.”
I want. “How about I cook?”
“Yeah?” he grins.
I nod vigorously. “Any requests?”
“Anything you come up with, I suspect will be great.” He leans in, adding, suggestively, “I’m particularly looking forward to dessert.”
I turn bright red.
The days pass oh so slowly. I can’t wait to see Skull again. Eventually it’s Thursday, and I leave work right on time.
In preparation I cook something that is simple but tasty, that I can turn down and leave in the oven if necessary, and doesn’t take a lot of fluffing around getting up and down and taking stuff in and out of the oven. I make an apple pie and
have whipped cream on standby, hoping that the dessert he’s thinking of means the pie goes uneaten.
My house is spotless, everything in its place, and nothing left out that could cause me embarrassment. I’m excited as I wait for him to arrive.
I’m wearing a knee-length floral dress that’s as flattering as anything I own.
A knock on the door.
When he steps inside, it seems symbolic.
He sniffs the air. “Smells good.” Then he turns his heated eyes on me, looking from my head to my feet, his gaze lingering on my breasts for a moment. He swallows. “You look amazing. Tell me, are you wearing panties?”
My brow scrunches, and I shrug.
“Go take them off. I want to eat dinner knowing I’ve got dessert ready and waiting for me.”
No man ever has asked me to do something so risqué. Oh, I’ve read such things in books, but the men I’ve been with have had their meal, and only then started their version of foreplay which may or may not have been successful in getting me aroused. That Skull’s kicking off this night, making our dinner something that whets our carnal appetites as well as filling our stomachs makes me feel immediately aroused.
And, playful.
Instead of retreating to my room, I keep my eyes on his, bend, and sliding my hands under my dress, discreetly remove my panties right there in the hallway. When he holds his hand out, I place them in it.
Then gasp, as he sniffs them, breathing in deeply. “Oh yes, I’m looking forward to what I’ll be tasting later. Mmm mmm.”
Did he just do that? Did he really just sniff my underwear?
I stand gawking a little too long, as he chuckles. “Is that your oven beeping?”
Shit it is! I turn and run into the kitchen, turning the heat right down. “Want to…” I start calling out, only to find he’s come in behind me.
“What do you need me to do, darlin’?”
A man offering to help in the kitchen? Skull’s already getting straight As tonight.
“Nothing, really. I’ve got the table set. Want to eat now, or…”
“Now,” he decides. “Then you, we, can relax.”
Devil's Dilemma: Satan's Devils MC Colorado Chapter #4 Page 4
