Had any of this happened even a few days prior, Chantel would have just shook her head until the voice went away. Chantel would have told herself, “no, that’s not me.” But that was the Chantel who felt certain she’d be married. It was the woman who thought she’d be Mrs. Marc Jennings. Seeing her ex writhe in the embrace of his mistress hit Chantel’s system like electroshock therapy. Somewhere deep within her, Chantel still buzzes from the event.
She looks in the mirror, fully dressed. She’s not entirely certain who she is and the thought is exciting. With a smile, Chantel teases her hair. A night in the motorcycle club has given her the exotic, tousled look that makes men foam at the mouth. With one last look behind her to the window, Chantel takes a deep breath and opens the door to the Motorcycle Club’s meeting room.
“Ha!” Jake bounces on a barstool across the room, hands clapping. “I knew you’d be game, Chantel. I have to say, you had me worried for a moment there that you’d slip out the window and I’d never see you again.”
Chantel snakes through the maze of card tables to where Jake sits at the bar. Instead of pretending to be invisible, like the old Chantel would have, she forces herself to make eye contact with the various bikers as she passes, a sly grin on her face. She can see the desire glinting in their red-rimmed eyes. Their reddening cheeks feed something inside Chantel, making her walk taller with each step. By the time she reaches Jake at the bar, Chantel can’t help but wear a broad smile across her face.
“Well look at you,” Jake says. He swivels on his seat and taps the bar. “Mick! Can you get an Ameretto Sour for the lady?”
“Ameretto sour?” Mind hops up onto the stool beside Jake. “How did you know?”
Jake turns, a wry grin on his face. “Doesn’t take no Sherlock Holmes. You ordered about twenty of them last night, darling.”
Chantel nods, a slight flush in her cheeks. “Ahh. It’s a nice bar you have here at your club,” Chantel nods to the expansive spread of liquor bottles just beyond the bar. “Much better selection than what they had at the bar last night.”
Mick the bartender, portly with long, stringy, white hair, waddles over and slides an amaretto sour to Chantel. She takes the glass with a nod.
“By definition, we like the good things in life. We like good bikes, good roads, good liquor. Don’t see the point in wasting life on bottom shelf vodka in plastic jugs and light beer. Goes the same with our women,” Jake says, giving Chantel a sidelong look. “I don’t bother with anything less than the best of the best.”
Chantel raises her drink and clinks it to the sweaty tumbler sitting before Jake. “I’ll drink to that.” The alcohol splashes the back of her throat, sending a wave of tingles through her chest. “I suppose,” Chantel says, rolling her glass along its edge on the bar, “it’s because I’m an Aeries. Always open to new adventure. Who knows, Jake, had I been born a day later, maybe I’m not even here. Maybe if I was a Taurus, I’d be living somewhere in the Midwest, working day in and day out as a librarian.”
Jake, his glass empty, nods down the bar to Mick. “Aries, eh? Well look at us, two peas in a pod.”
“Really?”
Jake raises his hand, his face straight and serious. “I’m an April Fool’s baby. If you just missed being a Taurus, you must be…” Jake pauses to think. “April 19th?”
Chantel smiles, swooping a tangle of hair behind her ear. “My due date was the 20th. Apparently part of my being an Aries was wanting to start my adventure here on this planet a day early.”
“And now you’re here, love.” Like magic, another drink appears in Jake’s hand. “And what an adventure we’re having, right? How about a little more? You want to sit and play cards with the boys?”
Chantel swivels on her seat, head shooting back to the room behind her. Cards are scattered over most of the circle-top tables, some of them being played, some of them just sitting, looking like some sort of avante garde interior design. Take away the beards and the leather, minus the beer tallboys and smoke-curling cigars, and this could be a bridge game somewhere. Most of the men looked of the Mall Santa ilk, simply gathered into a group. Cards flopped without any table-pounding and shouting. Just guys playing cards.
Chantel’s mind flashed back to the bike between her legs, the wind in her hair. Arms around Jake as they zoomed down some dark highway, the air going into Chantel’s lungs seemed somehow more pure, as if this was the first time she’d ever really tasted the air.
She swiped the second amaretto sour glass now waiting by her hand and hopped from her bar stool. “Sounds like a blast, Jake. Hope you guys don’t mind losing all your cash to a girl.”
The six other bikers who ended up anteing into Chantel’s poker game really had little need to worry. Being an Aries may have made her an adventurous spirit, but it didn’t do much for her poker face. By the third amaretto sour, other players are floating her cash. It doesn’t help any that Jake, sitting beside her, takes to squeezing her thigh when Chantel is in a hand.
“I’ll bet…,” Chantel looks to her king-two and takes a breath. She feels the rough skin of Jake’s hand slowly slide up her leg. First his finger runs circles around the ball of her knee. He lets loose a small chuckle as the fingers slowly snake up the flesh of her thigh. He pushes at the band of her jeans, sliding them down over her panties.
“Oh my,” Chantel shivers in her seat. “I’m all in!” The words blurt from her mouth as Jake’s finger dives under her jeans and curls dangerously close to her womanhood.
“Shit, I’ll call that,” the biker sitting beside her, tall and dark haired, shoves his pile of chips into the center of the table. They spill and clatter of chips joins a handful of chuckles from around the table. The rest of the players throw in their cards, anxiously looking between Chantel and the other biker.
“Good ol’ Bubs,” Jake says to Chantel’s ear. “Always up for a challenge.”
“Alright, sweetheart,” Bubs turns to Chantel with a saccharine grin. “It’s just you and me in this pot now. Let’s see what you got.”
Still Jake’s fingers keep to their search of Chantel’s upper thigh. Her head buzzing, she takes a delicate finger and pulls at the collar of her shirt. The feeling of eyes on her skin, Jake’s finger running between her thighs, gives Chantel a moment of invincibility. “You want to see the goods, do you?”
Bubs can only nod.
With a grin, Chantel turns over her cards. The table takes a breath, a long moment of eerie silence, before exploding in cheers and laughs. It is in this moment, the world around them churning with activity, that Jake slides his finger inside Chantel. At first pushing, her body quickly gives way to Jake. The wry smile stays fixed on Chantel’s face, her cheeks already red, even as Bubs turns over his own pair of aces.
“Chantel, dear,” Bubs says, “You got some cojones pushing in with king deuce. I don’t know what the hell you were thinking.”
Warmth spreads up from Chantel’s thighs and into her stomach. Without a word, without even looking to Jake sitting beside her, she spreads her legs ever-so-slightly, inviting him to push deeper. Jake wriggles in his chair a bit and then his finger is curling inside Chantel, stroking the bundle of nerves just inside her pussy.
“Perhaps,” Chantel says, taking a hiccup of a breath, “I was distracted.”
“I should say so,” Bubs laughs. The dealer flips the remaining cards in the hand. It doesn’t take a professional poker player to see the number of aces on the table favors Bubs. Chantel leans back in her chair as he rakes in the chips, arms crossed over her chest to restrain her sudden shaking. Just with his one finger, Jake has her whole body buzzing. The muscles in her thighs jump and flex as his finger slowly slides in and out, in and out. Chantel closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, the silken sensation of Jake’s finger better than any liquor.
“No hard feelings, though,” Bubs says. Her eyes still closed, Chantel can only hear the steady clip clip which sounds like chips being stacked before her. “Just as
a show of good sportsmanship, I’ll let you have a little of my stash here. You won’t find any better.”
Any better? Chantel opens her eyes. The chips cleared from the table before her, three straight white lines stretch from the edge of the table.
For a moment, Chantel forgets Jake’s magic finger. “Is that…?”
Bubs nods. “No pressure, kid. You do what you want. But I wouldn’t want to be an awful host and not offer some to our esteemed guest.”
Chantel looks to the lines on the table. Jake already has her heart beating like mad, but this sight makes her pulse race even faster. Her head suddenly feels heavy on her shoulders.
“Well,” Chantel scoots forward in her chair. Jake’s finger slides out from her velvet, leaving a small trail of wetness on Chantel’s thigh. “I am an Aries, Bubs. Us Aries…” Chantel turns. Tugging Jake’s hair, Chantel pulls him close and plants a kiss on his lips. The sting of whiskey gently burns Chantel’s lips as their tongues twist a lustful dance. With a sigh, Chantel pushes Jake from her.
“We like adventure.” She scoots forward. Without any other experience and not wanting to seem uncool, Chantel does just as she’s seen mobsters and junkies do in the movies. One finger closing half her nose, she stoops down to the table and inhales through her other nostril.
The powder feels like ice as it slides down her nose and drips down the back of her throat. There’s an instant jolt, like electricity but without the pain, as Chantel finishes the line. Though overcome by a fit of coughing, Chantel can’t feel much in her chest. Each wracking cough hits only like a gentle tickle in the back of her mouth.
“Holy fucking shit,” Bubs says in a low voice. “Girl took that like a damn champ.”
“Again,” Chantel rubs at the tip of her nose. It feels all of a sudden like she’s got some sort of cold, her nose running like mad. “It’s all about the adventure.”
“That’s my girl,” Jake says. He tugs at her hair, pulling Chantel’s gaze to him. Slowly, Jake puts his finger to his lips. First suckling Chantel’s juices from his own skin, Jake darts down to the table top and inhales the second white line. He whips his head back up with a heavy, sucking breath. The act done, he leans in and kisses Chantel, both their faces hot.
“I don’t know,” Chantel looks around the room, brow pinched. “Everything looks the same. What’s the big deal with this stuff. It just feels like I have something in the back of my throat.”
Jake smiles and places a firm kiss to the hollow of Chantel’s throat. His teeth scrape at the top layers of her skin, causing her to jump from her seat. “Wait a minute, love,” Jake growls. “You’ll feel a whole new person. Won’t nothing stop you then.”
It hits Chantel all at once. The cards being cleared from the table, drinks being poured all around, Chantel blinks and when she opens her eyes, the world around her has expanded. Chantel reaches out into this new world and it feels as if the very air churns and obeys her every movement.
“Okay,” Chantel says in a quiet voice. “I get it now. Wow. I feel like I can do anything.”
“A great feeling, isn’t it, Love?” Jake whispers in her ear. “And this is just the tip of the iceberg. Wait until we fuck later. God, it’s like entering into the very stuff the universe is made of.”
The word ‘fuck,’ whispered into Chantel’s ear, again gives her the shivers. The muscles between her legs quiver and tense, waiting for Jake’s finger, waiting for Jake’s girth.
The table before them, the cards and chips cleared away, suddenly bears a handful of liquor bottles and shot glasses. Bubs and his squared, smiling face to one side and Jake to the other, Chantel looks around to see every seat suddenly filled with leather-wearing, stubble-faced bikers.
“Ooh, are we going to have some sort of party at our table now?” Chantel says, her head light the world swimming pleasantly around her.
Chantel blinks and the shot glasses are all full, amber liquid sloshing in each.
“Better than a party, dearie,” Jake says, sniffing at the liquid in his glass. “We’re having us a drinking game.”
Bubs leans forward in his seat. “You ever hear of ‘Never Have I Ever,’ Chantel? It’s a favorite here at the club, especially when we’ve got newcomers in the building.”
“Never Have I Ever?” Chantel places a hand to her chest. The gentle drip drip down the back of her throat seems to strengthen her, give her untold power. “Sweetie, I’ve spent three years at the biggest party school in the fucking country. I eat poor suckers for breakfast playing Never Have I Ever.”
“Well let’s do it then, if Miss Chantel claims to be queen of the drinking games,” Jake says. “Just to warn you, hon, playing with your sorority sisters is like the minor leagues compared to these dudes.”
Chantel looks to Jake’s eyes. Beneath the table, she slides a hand up the leg of his jeans, letting her fingers dance over the bulge in his pants. Jake’s shoulders quiver from the contact, his breath sucked in ever so slightly.
“I’d worry more about yourself than little old me,” Chantel says. With a wink, she turns from Jake to the other burly dudes sitting at the edges of their seat around the table. “If you’re ready, boys, let’s play.”
“Well,” Bubs tips his shot glass in Chantel’s direction. “House rules say the newcomer gets to go first.”
“My pleasure,” Chantel says. She takes a breath to take in the gazes from each of these bikers. Just a petite little 21 year old girl, she has them all eating out of the palm of her hand. Chantel isn’t sure if it’s the drugs or the booze or the power, but she feels larger than life.
“Never have I ever,” Chantel says, drawing out the words in a torturous tease, “…spent a night in jail.”
A number of the men around the table groan and slap the hardwood. “No fair!” some say.
“Hey,” Chantel points to their downcast faces. “You know the rules. Drink up, bitches.”
Every man at the table, save Jake, slam down their drink. Chantel turns to Jake as the glasses are being refilled. “What, not you?”
“Please, honey,” He says, pulling Chantel’s hand back toward his pants beneath the table. “I’m too smart and too pretty for jail. I let Bubs here take my falls. Isn’t that right, Bubs?” His hand guides hers to the now-growing mound of his jeans.
Chantel, her face hot and breath short, hardly notices as Bubs nods beside her. “Yeah, you’re sittin’ next to our own resident jail virgin, Chantel.”
“I prefer to think of it being as the smartest man in the room, Bubs,” Jake says. His smile quivers slightly as he guides Chantel’s hand up and down the front of his jeans under the table. He looks into her face, feeding off the passion glimmering in her eyes.
By the time the game has circled back around to Jake, not only is he starting to feel the alcohol buzzing in his head and warming his cheeks, but Chantel’s hand has stoked his fires to a roar. She looks at him with a small smirk on her face, only she and Jake knowing what it is she smiles about. Even in a room full of men, their wandering hands below the table is their little secret, something no one else can have. The thought makes Chantel’s heart flutter. Already feeling like a larger person, a more daring soul, the twitching of Jake’s jaw nearly takes the breath from Chantel’s chest. It feels like she’s in control of him, like she only needs to say the word and this strong, burly motorcycle man will bend to her will.
Jake takes the shot glass in his hand, slowly turning it in the low light of the motorcycle club. “Never have I ever…,” he says with a wide grin, “had a threesome.”
The men around the table erupt in hoots and whistles. Surprisingly, a number of them pick up their shots and slam back the alcohol. Men with long, scraggly beards and missing teeth drink. Twenty four hours ago, this would have surprised Chantel to no end, but now, in the club, the memory of that motorcycle still quivering her thighs, she can see why these men are probably in no shortage of company.
“Well well,” Bubs says, leaning across Chantel
to look at Jake. “Looks like we’re the only three here whose lives lack the adventure of a three-way.”
Chantel smiles and turns her head, dark hair whipping like comet tails behind her. Her chest swells with hot excitement. “Well I suppose we can fix that pretty easy. Right boys?”
Again the table around them erupts in noise and clinking glasses.
“Well look at you,” Jake says to Chantel. “One line and you’re fearless.”
Chantel leans in close, her lips brushing against Jake’s neck, relishing the prickles of his stubble over her lips. “Well let’s see what we can do with another line. You up for some fun, Bubs?”
All White Alphas: Four Adult BWWM Stories Page 5
