HANDS OFF MY WIFE_Black Cossacks MC

by Claire St. Rose

  His breathing grew heavier and heavier, his thrusts more and more frantic and erratic. And finally, just as I dug my nails deep into his back as he drove his cock deep inside of me once again, I felt my body thrashing wildly against his as he lifted his mouth from my nipple and let out a deep, throaty, animalistic groan. He stared deep into my eyes as his face twisted and contorted into the look a man gets right before he's about to explode deep inside of you.

  And that took me over the edge. That look and that sound – that was all it took for me to lash out and scream for him, screaming his name over and over as the most intense orgasm of the night rolled through me – as it rolled through us. Our bodies were intertwined and, honestly, for that moment in time, nothing else mattered but the pleasure that was sweeping over both of us. He groaned as his warm, hot cum filled me up and I felt myself grow moister as he shoved himself inside of me one last time, just staying there, sheathed inside of me as his eyes rolled in the back of his head.

  “Jesus Christ,” he said, his head falling forward and onto my shoulder. “Fuck, that was amazing.”

  And as my body finally stopped convulsing, I had to agree. While still out of breath, I said, “Hell yeah it was.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ABBIE

  That night was a night of firsts. I'd never had sex on a first date. Until then. I'd never been with someone as dangerous as King. Until then. And I'd never come as hard in my entire life. Until then. The sex with King was mind-blowing good – too good to even be real. Hell, I never even knew it could be that good. King spoiled me for other men, I feared. It had been so good with him that part of me feared that I would never have an experience that raw, that primal – that good – ever again.

  As soon as our breathing had slowed, our heart rates calmed down, and our bodies were back to their normal state, King slipped his cock out of me one last time, collapsing next to me on the table with a hearty laugh.

  He turned his head and kissed me. This time, it was a lazy, drowsy sort of kiss – the sort of kiss you'd expect after sex when both of you were worn out. I figured he wasn't one for snuggling, and I could feel his cum dripping out of me, pooling all over the table beneath me, so I excused myself to run to the restroom.

  I cleaned myself up a bit as best as I could, wiping the massive amount of cum from me. And in that moment, what I'd done really hit me. As did the ramifications. What I'd just done was stupid. It was dangerous. I'd fucked King bareback. No protection whatsoever. What about diseases? Pregnancy? I was on the pill, but so what? What if an accident happened? King didn't seem like the type who'd stick around and help me out, and God only knew if he was clean.

  Those thoughts were in the back of my mind as I stood in the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror. But I was also still in a state of post-coital bliss. Even though doom and gloom scenarios flashed through my mind, I couldn't stop smiling. Not even the fact that I looked like a torn up, hot mess could wipe the grin off my face. My hair was all over the place and I was still topless. My skirt was still on, but it was crooked, pushed up around my waist, and was torn a bit in the back. My panties were God knew where. And yet, despite all of that, I couldn't stop smiling. My body had just experienced the best sex of my life and I knew I should care about the consequences – but I didn't. In that moment, I didn't care about anything. I just felt too damn good to worry.

  My girly bits throbbed from the intense fucking King had administered. I knew I was going to be sore tomorrow – and quite possibly for days. But it was worth it. If anything, it would serve as a memory of the amazing time I'd had with him. Because God knew, this had to be a one-time thing. I couldn't let this happen again. Ever. Doing stupid, crazy, impulsive stuff like that – it wasn't my life, this wasn't me. Not that I knew who I was or what I wanted out of a guy, but King didn't seem like the long-term relationship sort of man. So either way, this was probably the last time I'd ever experience something like this. And it was most certainly going to be the last time I experienced King in all of his glory.

  I came out of the bathroom, scooping up my bra and my shirt, slipping them on in the alcove as quickly as I could. I searched around the floor and finally found my panties, too. They'd been knotted up and were sitting in the corner. Untangling them, I slipped them back on, too, and then pulled my skirt back down. Now fully dressed again, with my hair looking slightly better, I stepped back into the bar where King was still on the table, stretched out on his back – still without any pants.

  He didn't seem to hear me, so I stood there a moment, admiring his body from afar. His abs were rock solid – he had the perfect six pack. And his chest was just ripped. The artwork covering his body gleamed with sweat, only making him more beautiful than ever to look at. And that cock – oh my. Even flaccid, it was an imposing sight.

  He must have sensed my presence, because he sat up and looked over at me. His hair fell over his face, hiding most of it from view, but I saw a hint of a smile underneath it all. That smile that used to annoy the ever-loving piss out of me. But, now, with my face flushed and my body still humming with the electricity he'd inspired within me, I smiled back at him.

  Not sure of what to say, I merely walked toward him and sat down in the booth. King slipped his hand behind my head, pulling my face to his, kissing me. I kissed him back.

  “We need to get you home,” he said. “It's getting late.”

  Glancing at the clock, I saw it was after ten already. Not terribly late, but later than I intended to be out with him. King jumped off the table and got dressed quickly, checking his cellphone before letting out a sigh.

  “Have someplace to be?” I asked, tracing the outline of the wood grain on the table.

  “Yeah, you could say that,” he said, putting his phone back in his pocket. “And, unfortunately, that means I have to hurry.”

  Unfortunately? Did that mean he was actually sad to part ways? Did he see this as more than a one-time thing? Nah, don't start thinking like that, Abbie.

  “Please tell me it's not in my parking lot again,” I said with a laugh.

  “Not this time,” he said, shaking his head.

  I could tell something was stressing him out, but I didn't feel comfortable enough to ask. Not like we were close or anything – hell, I'd even told him that we weren't really friends – so I let it be.

  “Ready?” he asked me, reaching for my hand.

  I let him take it, and together we walked back outside into the cool, night air. He'd been sure to shut off all of the lights before locking the place up tight again, shutting out all the lights, before we climbed on the back of his bike again.

  We didn't say much on the ride back. What do you say to a man who just rocked your world like that? Who'd rocked your world like no other ever had? Especially since it was a man you'd probably never see again. It was awkward and there really wasn't much to say. I climbed onto the bike behind him and wrapped my arms around that hot body of his, finally understanding what sort of power laid within it, and we rode back down the coast, enjoying the view. He drove a lot faster this time, likely well over the speed limit. Wherever he had to be was important, I could tell. And I had a feeling it had a lot to do with the drugs he picked up at my place. Probably to finish the deal. I wasn't nearly as naïve as King thought me to be.

  But it was a reminder of exactly why I couldn't afford to get caught up in this lifestyle – or in somebody like him. King and I were two totally different people. While I found the whole bad boy biker act sexy as hell, when it came down to it, being with an actual biker – much less the leader of a motorcycle gang – came with a lot more trouble than I needed right now. It came with a lot more trouble than I could ever see myself wanting.

  Drug deals. Crime. Violence. What sort of person was King? He didn't seem like the type to hurt people, but I really didn't know him. Who could say what kind of man he really was? The men who'd joined him last night, the Hispanic men, they didn't seem to be as friendly as King. And if the two groups
worked together, that said a lot for King and his friends.

  No, Abbie. This is it. You can't see this guy anymore. You especially can't date him or spend any time alone with him because, obviously, you can't be trusted. You think with your hormones, not your brain, and you just can't do that with guys like him.

  That was it. I'd just talked myself out of it when King pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex. Parking his bike, I hopped off first – with his help, of course. He didn't get off the bike, but he did reach out for me.

  “One last kiss for the road, princess?” he asked me with a wink.

  How could I say no? After all, it was just a kiss and we'd already done so much more than that tonight. I leaned into him, pressing my lips to his, and instead of the rough, harsh kissing from earlier, this one almost felt tender. Sweet. It was surprising coming from somebody so rough around the edges like King. As we kissed I found it hard to pull away, but after several long moments, I finally did and stared into his eyes.

  “Drive safe, King,” I said, stroking his cheek. “And thank you.”

  “Thank you, Abbie,” he said, revving up the engine. “And I promise you, my guys and I won't be back here to bother you again. You have my word.”

  I stepped back and watched him drive off, leaving in a trail of rock and dust from the parking lot in his wake. I watched as his bike pulled out onto the road, turning in the opposite direction from where we'd come from, before disappearing into the night.

  That was it, I thought to myself. I can never see him again. He's not coming around here anymore. He'd promised me that. And as crazy as it sounded – I believed him. I had no rational explanation for believing him, but I did. Still, even though I knew it would never work out between us and we could never really have anything, I couldn't help but feel a hint of sadness at never experiencing something as amazing as what we'd had that night. I felt a hint of sadness that I'd never get to know the real King – the one who was soft and gentle, tender and kind. I'd caught small glimpses of him here and there when we were together and I liked what I'd seen.

  But that was over and I'd be better off accepting it. That was always going to be the deal. And besides, that was life, I told myself. Walking toward my apartment, I let out a heaving and dramatic sigh. It was what it was. And for me, it was all over and served as something of a stark reminder – you can't get attached to men like that.

  As I opened up my apartment door and went inside, one final thought hit me.

  King had never apologized for all that he'd done. Never once said he was sorry for planting drugs on me and causing me so much trouble. Even after all that we'd done, he'd never apologized.

  But he did, as he promised, make it up to me. So all in all, I guess we were even now.

  Even if he had gotten plenty of enjoyment out of I,t too. So maybe we weren't totally and completely even just yet after all.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  KING

  One night. Normally after one night with a woman, I'm lucky if I can even remember her name. It's almost unheard of that after that night that I keep thinking about her. I racked my brain and couldn't remember ever calling a girl the next day like I always promised I would. Usually I tossed her number in the trash can as soon as I got home. If I even get that far with it. Sometimes, I don't remember even asking for it.

  But Abbie – she was different. Really different and it was really doing a number on me. She got under my skin and without even meaning for it to, my mind kept going back to that night with her. I could be doing something like working on my bike or watching a game and then all of the sudden, I would get images of that night at my bar – with her on my table – popping into my head. As the images flashed through my mind like some mental porno, I would hear her voice, hear the way she called out my name. I would feel the way her skin felt pressed against mine. I could recall the way she tasted.

  I licked my lips as if the taste of her might still linger on them. But, of course, they didn't.

  Normally, after a night like that, I found myself having to block the girl's number. A call or two after the fact was fine. Expected even. But a woman who starts blowing up my phone with texts and calls, leaving pretty pathetic sounding voicemails that seem to get more and more frantic is never sexy and it's never, ever fun. In fact, it gets downright annoying. Stalkers and desperate chicks aren't sexy in any way, shape, or form.

  But now that the shoe was on the other foot and it was me who was blowing up somebody else's phone after an incredible night, I found it was even less fun. In fact, not only was it not fun, it was driving me bat shit crazy.

  I wasn't used to not getting what I wanted, and I wanted Abbie to respond. I wanted her to return my call. Hell, all I wanted was for her to return my goddamn text messages. I wasn't asking her for a relationship. There was no way in hell I was looking for that. All I wanted from her right then was just a chat. A conversation over a cup of coffee. Something. And instead, despite all of my best efforts, I got nothing but silence in return.

  Damn. It sucked. Maybe it was a little dose of karma, or the cosmos giving me a taste of my own medicine for a change, but it sucked big time and it wasn't making me very happy at all.

  “Dayuuum, son,” Roy's voice called out to me. He was trying – and failing – to suppress his laughter. “Seems like something's sure got you distracted today, don't it?”

  I looked over and he wasn't alone. Three other guys were with him, all of them smirking at me. At least, they were until I laid my eyes on them. Their annoying fucking smirks went away really quickly after that. “Why?” I snapped. “You say somethin' important, Roy? Or just more of the horseshit you normally run around spouting?”

  Roy grinned and shook his head. He was allowed to taunt me. We had that sort of friendship. The other men? Not so much. I scowled at them, and one by one, they excused themselves from the shop, all suddenly remembering they had something to do or somewhere to be.

  “Always. Everything I say is important, King,” Roy said, tipping me a wink. “Don't you know that by now, boy?”

  “I know plenty who'd argue with that sentiment,” I said, leaning back against the table with a sigh. “So what's up?”

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” Roy said, shaking his head. “Well, at least with me there ain't. But there appears to be something going on with you these last few days. Care to talk about it? They say confession is good for the soul and all that happy horseshit.”

  “Since when did we become all BFFs, Roy? Should we start drinking wine and watching chick flicks together? Maybe I should start confiding all my deepest, darkest secrets to you…”

  Roy handed me a beer and shook his head. “Not all of 'em,” he said. “A man needs to keep his own counsel sometimes. But you know you can always talk to me, King. About anything. I'm not like the others.”

  “The others? Like those three candyasses who couldn't run away fast enough just because I looked at them sideways?”

  Roy laughed again, taking a long, hard drink from his bottle of beer. He turned it around in his hand as if checking out the label. Some cheap beer, nothing fancy. It tasted like horse piss, but I wasn't one to complain. Neither was he. Beer was beer. So long as it was cold and wet, we were good to go.

  Without even realizing it, I reached out, picked up my phone and checked it – afraid that I'd maybe missed a message from Abbie. It was an unconscious, reflexive movement and when I caught myself doing it, I wanted to slap myself right upside the goddamn head.

  Roy arched and eyebrow and gave me a look. “Nah, you ain't this hung up over some bitch, are you?”

  “No fucking way, man,” I said, taking a drink of the horse piss. “Never. You know me. That's not my style.”

  “Then why have you checked your phone a hundred times in the last minute?” he asked. “Who is it you're hoping is going to call?”

  Roy watched me carefully, as if waiting for me to say something stupid – or lie to him. He was right about him not bei
ng like the others. He knew me better than most, and he could read me like he read a Playboy. Okay, he read me better than that since no one ever fucking read those magazines for the articles anyway. But he could see me with the same critical eye he used to take in all of the voluptuous details of the centerfold. It was almost unnerving how much the man could pick up on.

  I shrugged and tried to play it off. “Just some chick I banged the other night – ”

  Roy looked away, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “ – but listen, man,” I said quickly, “it ain't like that. I'm not all hung up on her or anything. She was just a really good lay and I'm only interested in hooking up again. That's all.”

  “King, come on – you can get any woman in any bar and you know it. Hell, I've seen you do it. But the one thing I've never seen? In all the time I've known you, I've never, ever seen you check your messages, waiting for some bitch to call you back.”