by Cathryn Cade
Billie grinned. "I'm already on it. Since I work flex hours now, I'm going shopping. Thought I'd start at the sale racks at Macy's, get her some yoga pants, a couple of tops, and a sweater. T gave me her shoe size, so I can get her some slip-ons or something."
"What size is she? I might have some things too. I ordered a purple top online, but I don't care how 'in' purple is this year—it does nothing for me. And I have a pair of boyfriend jeans that I've only worn once."
Billie recited from memory. "She's a dress size twelve, panty size six, bra thirty-four B, and shoe size seven. T says the top of her head 'tucks under his chin', which is so stinkin' cute, but also means she's about your height." Billie was a little taller than her older sister.
"Aww," Lesa crooned. But she immediately switched gears. "She better treat him right. After that bitch Krystelle—and what the hell kind of a name is that anyway?"
"It's a cute name," Billie cut in. "Just... on any other woman." Because this Krystelle was a total skank.
"Whatever. After she stole his money, T needs a nice girl. One who's into him, the way he deserves."
"And one who can mind his money for him in a good way," Billie added. "The big guy throws money around like water. He would've given Krystelle all the money she wanted if the skank had just asked."
"True. He needs a woman who'll take charge of the checkbook."
They were both silent for a moment, reflecting that their own father was such a man—only a lot worse, because at least T wasn't an addict. "You talk to Dad lately?" Billie asked.
"Yesterday. He's staying clean. Hasn't been near a casino, he says. And his bank balance bears that out." Their dad had given Lesa oversight on his bank account on his final try to break the grip of his addiction.
"Good. Thanks again for being his personal banker."
They laughed together, sisters finding humor in a dark situation.
"Okay," Billie said, signaling to turn in to a parking garage. "Talk to you later. I'll bring the stuff by the clubhouse when I'm done shopping."
And hey, she might look for a purple top for herself today. Now that she had her college loans paid off, and money in the bank from her game creation, she had money to shop. She was having fun breaking her penny-pinching habit. Although Rocker would just pull out his own wallet and buy her anything she wanted. The man loved to buy her sexy undies and clothing.
"Come here to The Hangar for lunch, then you can show me what you get, okay?"
"Can't, I'm meeting Rocker at home for lunch." Billie blushed as she spoke, because when he'd kissed her goodbye early that morning, her biker man had let her know he didn't like leaving without getting his usual loving, and he expected to make up for that when he broke for lunch.
"Ooooh," Lesa teased. "Bet I know what's on the menu."
"Gotta go," Billie said hurriedly. Her phone signal cut out anyway as she passed into the heavy concrete supports of the garage. Just as well, 'cause she and Rocker were still new enough that she couldn't quite believe the sexual acts he talked her into. And she wasn't quite up to enduring sisterly teasing about them.
Her morning went well.
She had fun shopping, so much fun that by the time she got home, she was running late. She phoned Rocker to tell him so.
Rocker stood waiting for her in the open doorway of the garage, and he did not look pleased. Billie's tummy jumped—despite her career creating bad-ass gamer fantasies, she liked peace, and she really liked her man's approval.
But it was hardly her fault that lunchtime traffic was a mess downtown, so she put a determined smile on her face as she eased past Rocker into the big garage her SUV shared with his Harley and his muscle car. Both of his vehicles were big, black and shiny. Her SUV was champagne, and had a kick-ass Sheenah sticker in the back window.
She hopped out of her vehicle, leaving the bags for later, and walked around to meet him.
"Bout time you got here," he told her. "I had a shit morning, and the afternoon's not looking to be much better."
Billie tipped her head, and gave him a look from under her lashes. Then she sashayed toward the door into the apartment. "Well, then you best be making this lunch break a good one for both of us, hadn't you?"
"Hey," he growled behind her. "Come back here."
She darted through the door, and peered back at him around the edge. "No."
Then she headed for the kitchen, in no particular hurry. Her heart was racing plenty fast enough, though.
The garage door rumbled down, the inner door slammed, and booted footsteps clomped across the floor behind her. "Did you just blow off my hello kiss and say no to me?" he asked in a dangerously quiet voice.
Smoothing her hand down over her new purple top, which was crafted of snug knit, and a low vee neck that emphasized her cleavage, and looked awesome with her dark-wash skinny jeans and brown leather booties, Billie turned to face him. "Maybe. Whatcha gonna do about it?"
His dark eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared. "I'm gonna do plenty. And you don't get over here now, you're not gonna like it. Cause I'm not in the mood to be ignored, woman."
Excitement racing through her along with nerves, she tossed her hair back. "Bring it, biker man."
With speed that took her breath away, he swooped, grabbing her around her hips and tossing her over his broad shoulder. Then he turned, carried her the several steps to the big, leather sectional sofa that dominated the middle of their living area, and let her down, face down over the back of the sofa. She had to brace her hands on the seat to balance herself, her legs dangling over the back.
When she struggled, she received a hard smack on her ass from a broad palm. "Ow!" she yelped. "Rocker Hayes, you stop that."
He smacked her again, on the other ass cheek. "Be quiet and maybe I will. Or maybe I'll find another way to keep you quiet."
Reaching under her hips, he found the fastening of her jeans, opened them, and stripped them down over her hips, leaving her ass and thighs bared to him, except for a pair of thin, lacy boy cut panties, which just happened to match her top. Lesa was right—purple really was 'in' this spring.
He showed his approval by filling his hands with her ass cheeks, and fondling them. "Huh. Now this is pretty—although the color'd go better if your ass was pink all over." He smacked her again, twice in swift succession, and then drew his fingers through the furrow between her thighs.
"You're wet," he told her, a new note in his voice. "Why, a man might get to thinkin' you like this. He might, if he's the suspicious type, even think you goaded him into gettin' rough."
"Maybe I did," she said breathlessly, waiting for him to touch her again. "Not that it's getting me any real action."
She yelped as he smacked her again, this time more lightly.
"Smart ass. I'll give you some real action." He stroked between her legs again, and she heard the clink of his belt buckle, and then his zipper. The next flesh she felt on hers was the hot, satiny length of his cock, slapping against her inner thighs as he freed himself from his jeans.
He tugged her panties down, and then slid two fingers into her labia. Billie whimpered her relief at finally being touched where she needed him most.
"Oh, you want it, don't you?" He placed the hot, broad head of his cock where his fingers had been, and thrust into her depths. "You want this?"
"Yesss," she breathed, wriggling back against him as he drove deep, so deep his groin met her ass, and she felt his balls against her inner thighs. "Yes, honey." Oh, yes, he felt so-oo good filling her.
She waited for him to move again, but to her chagrin, he held her there, and she heard plastic crinkle. "Did I mention," he said, his deep voice laced with a grin, "That my latest appointment this morning was with the owner of a new store in town?"
"Um, no," she answered, tensing as something small and firm teased up the crevice of her ass. He dipped his fingers into her pussy, making them wet.
"Yeah," he told her, stroking her with the object again. And this time he tic
kled the puckered rosette between her cheeks with it. "A sexy toy store. And darned if they didn't offer me a couple of free gifts."
Billy caught her breath in alarm. "Rocker? Honey... I'm not sure..."
"Just let me try it, babe." His deep voice went velvet, coaxing, in a way that made her spasm around his rigid girth inside her. He grunted. "I'll take that as a yes. Fuck, you're so hot. You got no idea how gorgeous you are right now, takin' me so sweet."
As he spoke, he teased a small, rounded end into her, and then slowly worked it a little deeper, until it lodged there. Billie whimpered again at the overload of sensation. Oh, God, she was filled in both channels, by him and by the toy. It felt naughty and so good she could not help wriggling around both.
"Here, that's right," he approved, lifting her so she could rest her arms on the back of the sofa. "That's it. Show me how you want to take me. Fuck me how you want it."
And Billie did. She rocked back to meet him, and soon they were locked in the sweetest duel in the world, as she took her man and he took her.
The pleasure built and built, and just when she couldn't bear it any longer, she imploded. She cried out one last time and went still, letting him take her hard and fast. When Rocker found his own release, he let out a low roar, his body stiffening over her like a drawn bow. His cum spilled hot inside her, setting off another, smaller cataclysm.
He bent slowly over her and wrapped her in his long, strong arms, his bearded face in the crook of her neck, bared by her tumbled hair.
"Oh, babe," he muttered. "That was fuckin' awesome."
She sighed in agreement, smiling as he nibbled at her neck with his lips. "Feel better, Mr Rock Solid?" she asked.
"Oh, yeah." His stomach chose that instant to growl, long and loud.
Billie giggled, and pushed herself up as straight as she could with him still inside her. "Better get you fed."
"M-hmm." He pulled out of her, and gave her his bandana handkerchief to wipe up with. "Any chance you'd wear just this sexy top and panties while we have lunch?"
"I might be persuaded."
He gave her a last squeeze. "Keep the plug in too, and I'll eat you for dessert."
"Umm..." her face flooded with heat, and she wrinkled her nose. "Maybe next time?"
He chuckled as he let her go. "Fair enough. Maybe sometime when you can do some cinnamon shots first, hmm?"
He was getting to know her too well. Give her enough shots of cinnamon whiskey or Jaeger, and she’d try anything her biker man came up with. Of course, that was because she knew she could trust him to take care with her body and her heart.
While she ducked into the bathroom to finish cleaning up and tidy her hair, he got busy in the kitchen. When she came back out, he had bread, sliced roast beef, sliced swiss cheese and the fixings out on the cement countertops. He grabbed two sturdy plates and set them out, then opened the bread bag. "So, you were shopping?"
Billie grinned. "I was, for T's girlfriend. I hit the sale racks at Macy's and LulaBelle's. Got her some basics. T said all she has is a dress and one pair of boots."
Rocker slid a plate her way with two slices of fresh whole-grain bread, and reached for the roast beef. "Yeah. Poor kid."
His neutral tone made her shoot him a keen look as she spread mayo on her bread. "What? You don't like her?"
"Don't know her," he admitted. "Only seen her once, when she was waking up from a concussion. All I know is, T is seriously into her."
"And he hardly knows her," she added.
He nodded, slapping his sandwich together and sliding it across the counter toward the chairs on the other side. "That's the part that worries me."
"Hey, hey," she complained, beckoning for him to hand his plate back to her. She added lettuce and sprouts to his sandwich, and returned it. "So you're worried he'll get dumped again?"
"I am," he said, taking a huge bite of sandwich. Plate in hand, he moved around the counter and took a seat, chewing. "T doesn't have the best luck with women. Krystelle not only dumped him, she ripped him off."
Billie poured him a glass of ice water, grabbed the bag of baby carrots and the container of ranch dip from the frig, and placed them where he could reach them. She snagged a carrot for herself and pointed it at him. "Eat your veggies. You know what T-Bear needs—besides a nice woman, that is? He needs a budget."
He took another huge bite of sandwich, raised a brow at her, and then reached into the bag, grabbing a handful of carrots. "Not arguin' with you there. He throws money around like a millionaire—which he ain't."
"He makes good money at JJ's garage, right?"
"I think so, why?"
"Well, he doesn't have any living expenses. He should be saving most of his paychecks. And he should have a credit card, so he can start building up a credit rating."
"All true. Think he and Moke pay a little rent at the club house, but mostly just expenses. Stick considers them night security."
"Well, you should talk to him. He'll listen to you." She moved around the counter to sit beside him.
"You think so, huh?" He watched her, crunching his carrots one by one. "Sure like your new top. And I especially like that you found sexy, purple panties to match."
She smiled happily. "Thanks for noticing."
Rocker choked on a drink of water, and pounded his chest, even as he smirked at her. "Hard to miss with your ass in the air over the back of our sofa."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't gloat."
He was definitely gloating.
But since she was crazy about him, she rolled her eyes and went back to eating her sandwich.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
* * *
Tuesday afternoon
Manda sat at T's side in his pickup truck, looking out at the high prairie west of Spokane.
Since this was her first trip to the Spokane area, and Tim had been intent on getting through on their way to North Idaho, she'd never seen the small communities around the city.
She was thrilled to be out of the hospital room, and to have this drive through a new area to take her mind off of the huge, gaping hole that was her future.
Not to mention the distraction from T-Bear's revelation that he—and possibly his Flyer brothers, but she had the horrible suspicion it was all him—had paid her bill at the hospital. She didn't know, but suspected it must be in the thousands of dollars, maybe even as much as ten thousand.
And how an unemployed clerk-slash-cleaning lady-slash-stock clerk was going to reimburse him ... she couldn't begin to imagine.
Please God don't let T-Bear’s 'brothers' decide the fastest route to payback was on her back.
As this had her breaking out in a clammy sweat, Manda forced her attention back to her surroundings.
"So, Airway Heights, huh?" she chirped, her voice shrill.
Luckily, accelerating on the straightaway between industrial developments, T-Bear didn't seem to notice. "Yeah, we got the Spokane airport and Fairchild USAF base, so I guess the city fathers figured they best pay homage. Us Flyers fit right in."
Other than the airport control towers to the south, Airway Heights looked like any other small town in the west. The main street had a big farm store, grocery store, some fast food chains and other small businesses.
Low hills lined the horizon to the west, scattered with evergreens. A tall water tower rose to the north, industrial buildings to the south.
Manda was glad the country out here was open. She loved trees, she loved being in them, especially in the summertime. But right now, that would be too much like being back at the Pine Cabins. She shuddered at the memory of the cramped, chilly and damp cabins, and the smell of mildew and old dirt.
As they rolled through the middle of town, T proudly pointed out a white building with a red-blue-and-white sign proclaiming it The Hangar Brewpub & Grill. Owned, he said, by his bro Pete and his fiance. "We'll have supper there soon. You'll love it. And I'll show you JJ's Auto another day."
He turned left, away
from the brewpub. They headed south along a narrow paved road with fields on both sides. T pointed to a long, low one-story building coming up on the right. "There's the clubhouse . I'll give you a tour around later."
He pulled through an open gate into a paved parking lot. A row of gleaming motorcycles had been backed in before the building. They were big, shiny, and Manda recognized the Harley insignia on the nearest one. T parked next to a jacked-up, white pickup truck, and a silver sports car.
On the north end of the building, she could see a strip of privacy fencing. Other than that space, the complex was surrounded by open fields, one with a few horses and cows grazing in it.
As for the clubhouse itself, plate glass from the one-time flooring showroom still made up the front doors and the big windows beside them, but were now reinforced with steel bars, and heavy shutters, now open.
Continuing the aircraft motif prevalent in the town, a big, old airplane propeller had been mounted over the club house's front doors. As Manda stepped down from the truck, she blinked. "Is that a bra hanging up there?" she asked.
T chuckled. "Yep. Used to be a thong with it, but the wind blew it off. Now, come on in, and we'll get you settled."
Feeling a bit like she was being admitted to a fraternity house, Manda followed him into the building.
The interior was shadowed, but she could see they were in a big room, with a bar running along the right wall, pool tables and foosball along the left, and tables and chairs scattered throughout the middle. Ceiling fans moved lazily overhead, wafting the scents of lemon cleaner, beer, and cigar smoke.
The biggest flat screen she had ever seen took up a good portion of the back wall, with speakers on either side. Big sectional leather sofas slouched before it, along with low tables.
A couple of men in club vests sat at the bar, while the young man-bunned Streak stood behind it, leaning on his elbows. They all turned as T and Manda walked in, and Streak nodded.
Manda smiled back, hesitantly because the two strangers did not look welcoming.
One, a chunky man with a scraggly beard and hair, a cigar in his hand, scowled at her like she was a questionable intruder. The man with him was the skinny, hard-faced biker she'd seen at the restaurant with T Friday evening. He eyed her with open speculation.
