by Kline, Sandy
I can feel my own body responding to his and I can feel each beat of my heart between my velvety lips. I don’t know how much longer I can tease before I’ll have to feel him inside me. I lean forward again placing my mouth along his shaft and I can feel him throbbing against my lips. He pushes against my face and I hold steady. He throbs, I throb, and suddenly I can’t take it anymore. I grab the top of his briefs and peel them down over his hips then I literally jump into his arms where he catches me and lets me settle down onto his shaft. The feeling is so perfectly sweet that it’s almost too much of a good thing. Using my arms and legs I ride his cock until we both explode!
Marc carries me over to the couch then falls back on his back while keeping me in place on his cock where we go for round two. We’re both healthy and strong and neither one of us tires easily. But when we finally do we’re completely sated and hungry at the same time. I look over at the clock as my stomach begins to rumble. We’ve just blown past our reservation. Guess I’m cooking tonight.
Chapter Four
Mister Wrong
Alright, that’s it. I can’t sit here in front of my computer dozing off. I’ll never get this freaking article written. Marc not only stayed for dinner, but he stayed half the night as well so know I’m super behind in my writing assignments. I desperately need some coffee to wake me up. Problem is I don’t have any. That leaves just one option; Seven Eleven. I guess I could go to Safeway and get the beans and stuff but I don’t even know if my coffee maker still works and I really don’t feel like driving across town at one in the morning.
Ten minutes later I’m pulling into 7-11 with my fingers and toes crossed. If there was such a thing as a good side of town in Watsonville and a bad side of town, this would be the bad side. I’ve already seen what I’m pretty sure was two drug deals go down right in plain sight under the streetlights. 7-11 is deserted except for me so that makes me feel better. I hate it when I come here at this time of night and there are other people in here. Most people who show up at this time all look like drug dealers or thieves. Since those other undesirable types happen to be elsewhere I decide to look for something halfway healthy to munch on.
I’m so engrossed in my search for sustenance that I fail to hear the door beep when someone else comes in. The first time I notice anything is when I hear the last thing I want to hear.
“Dude just open the cash register and no one’s gonna get hurt.”
Instantly my blood runs cold and my heart is caught in the icy grip of fear! I know I’m a martial artist and I’m supposed to be prepared for things like this, but at 1:30 in the morning, when I’m tired, hungry, and I feel about as confident in my skill as a slug, the last thing I want to do is fight for my life. Couldn’t this have happened on a day when I feel good? Every other day I walk around feeling like I can handle most things and most people I come in contact with. Not tonight.
“And don’t forget about that safe.” The thief orders.
“I-I c-can’t open it.” Stammers the cashier. “It’s on a t-timer. N-next t-time I can open i-it is in four and a half hours.”
“No fucking way!” The thief roars.
Wait. That was a different voice. That means there are at least two thieves in here.
“I swear it’s true. I c-can’t open it.”
“Really? Would you stake your life on that mutha fucka?”
“L-look, here’s everything in the register. T-take anything else in…in t-the store. I swear I-Ill even wait ten minutes b-before I-I call the p-p-police.”
“Don’t fucking move a damn muscle!” Booms a voice behind me.
Shit! I very nearly have a heart attack right here in 7-11. I don’t dare move so I can’t see who is behind me or what kind of weapon he has if any. I don’t have to wait long. Pretty soon a tall African American man wearing a black ski mask comes around in front of me. In his right hand is a small silver revolver.
“Move your ass!” He yells and directs me to the front of the store with a wave of his gun.
Stunned, I march myself up to the front of the store where there is two other black guys arguing with the terrified store clerk. One of the men has a shotgun and the other one appears to be unarmed which is surprising to me.
“Get behind the counter bitch.” He commands.
No freaking way I’m going to resist. Problem is, the clerk, a middle-aged Asian man, seems to be at the end of his sanity rope and is about to completely lose it. If he does I’m a dead girl. I just better be ready to hit the floor behind the counter when the bullets begin to fly.
“Listen up old man.” The thug who seems to be the leader says. “I don’t care what you have to do mother fucker, but you have exactly five minutes to get inside that safe and get me the fucking money.”
“I told you I can’t open the safe until six.”
I glance over at the clerk. He’s getting bold now. He stopped stammering and he looks like he’s about to do something stupid like resisting. If he does that I’ll surely die.
“Mother fucker old man.” The leader rages. “I’m gonna blow your fucking head off in about three seconds!”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Says a completely different voice. The owner of that voice is supremely confident. There’s not even a hint of fear and his voice is rock steady.
I look up and to my shock and amazement; it’s the hot biker from the MMA fights. He is just standing there looking at the thugs without as much as a fork for a weapon.
“Who the fuck are you?” Asks the leader with the shotgun.
“You point that fucking gun at me again and I’m going to take it away from you and beat you to death with it.”
“Didn’t nobody eva’ teach you how to count?” The leader asks. “Not only are you outnumbered three to one, you ain’t even smart enough to bring a gun to a fucking gun fight!”
“What did I just tell you punk?” The biker asks.
“Don’t know and I don’t fucking care so take your pussy ass and your bike outta here before I blow yo-”
He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence. In one lightning fast sequence, hot biker knocks the barrel of the shotgun to the side with his left hand, simultaneously grabbing the barrel as he steps towards the guy inside the weapon so if the thug does get a shot off it’ll find nothing but air behind him. At that same moment hot biker strikes the thug in the throat with the knuckles of his right hand crushing his airway. He easily rips the gun from the dying thug’s hands, racks him across the temple area with the wooden stock and the guy sags to his feet.
It happens so fast the other two guys are caught with their pants down so to speak. When the guy with the revolver finally reacts it’s far too late. He swings his pistol around to point it at the biker and gets his arm broken for it as hot biker swings the shotgun, striking the thugs forearm with a loud, painful crack! The pistol falls from the man’s numb fingers. Before the thug can even register that his arm is broken and he’s dropped his weapon, he takes a mighty blow across the side of his head and is unconscious before he even hits the ground. The third thug doesn’t even protest and dashes out the door without a word.
I can’t believe what I just saw. In like two seconds hot biker guy has laid out two armed thugs and scared off the third. Not only was that...incredible, but it also makes me feel like a coward. Here I am, the trained martial artist and some biker just steps in and takes care of business like it’s nothing. Hot guy biker turns to the store patron and hands him the thug’s shotgun.
“Think you can hold down the fort till the cops show up?”
The speechless clerk, still in shock just nods and accepts the gun. Then hot biker guy turns to me, nods his head and turns and leaves the store. Now wait a second. He just can’t march in here and do…do whatever he just did and just leave without even a word to me the traumatized female! Angrily I follow him out and catch up to him as he’s getting on his Harley.
“Hey wait a second.” I shout. “What was that?”
&n
bsp; “Did that really need an explanation?” He asks.
“Maybe you need one then.” I begin. “I’ve been in this town for like, six months and I’ve rarely seen your guys riding around and suddenly in the last three days I’ve run into you and your crew like four times. What gives?”
“I’m sorry ma’am; I apologize for not clearing private club business with you before acting.”
“That’s not what I meant. It’s just that I know what you guys stand for and-”
“What do we stand for?” He asks.
I’m a little taken off guard and I don’t really know what to say here. It’s probably not wise to accuse the man who just saved your bacon of drug dealing.
“What’s your name?” I finally ask.
At first I think he’s going to refuse to answer, and then he surprises me. “Blink.”
“Excuse me?” I’m pretty sure I didn’t hear him right.
“Blink.”
“Now I thought that’s what you said. Okay I’ll play ball.”
Like a complete idiot I stand here at 1:45 am blinking like an idiot. He looks at me for a second confused, then breaks out laughing. His reaction to my reaction to his command is…is refreshing. The sound of his laughter is about the last thing I would have expected from a hardcore outlaw biker. And now that I think about it, I would have expected his voice to sound like he’s been gargling with gravel and not the smooth, suave sophisticated voice I’m hearing right now. Dare I say…he actually sounds like an educated man.
Abruptly he turns his back on me and fires up his bike. I’m about to protest indignantly when I catch the sound of sirens in the cool night air. Just as he pulls out of the parking lot he turns around and flashes me an award winning smile. What an odd night.
I decide I’d rather not talk to the cops either so I follow hot biker’s example and jump behind the wheel in my own vehicle and spurt out of the lot. I’m about three blocks from the store when a line of about six cop cars fly by me. One more time I’m glad Marc only works nights occasionally. That keeps him out of most of the trouble that goes on around this town of 300,000.
Ten minutes later I’m pulling into my driveway. My reason for being out at night at almost two in the morning completely escapes me when I look in my rearview mirror and see a lone Harley parking behind me. Right away I know who it is and I’m not sure if I should be afraid or just indignant at being stalked like this. I open the door and get out. No point in playing hard to get here. It’s not like I can stop him from doing anything to me if he has nefarious designs on me.
As I get out he kills his bike’s engine and gets off. He walks up to me and takes off his helmet.
“Blink.” He says to me.
“Fine,” I say to him. “I’ll do it one more time but you gotta tell my why it’s so damn important that I blink.”
He waits for me to blink then explains himself. “It’s my name.”
“I’m so sorry. Your parents must have really hated you.”
He actually laughs again and the sound is music to my ears. I really don’t understand how a person like this ever gets into a motorcycle gang like the Soul Eaters.
“My name’s Seth actually. My brothers gave me the other name.”
I think about it for a second. “So how’d you end up with a name like that? I would have expected something more on the lines of Killer.”
“Did you not see what I did tonight?” He asks me pointedly.
“Ah…in the blink of an eye. Yeah I get it now. So where’d you learn that stuff? I’ve been taking Aikido for years and I can’t even hope to come close to doing what you did or being that fast.”
“I actually studied Sho Shu, a Chinese system of martial arts that gets its moves from the way the different animals fight.”
“Damn…I’ve been wasting my time obviously; and a lot of money.”
“Sho Shu is a very difficult art. I earned a black belt in two other disciplines and thought I would breeze through Sho Shu; was I ever wrong.”
Now to get to the heart of the matter. “So why are you following me?” I finally ask.
“Haven’t you ever heard of a segue?” He asks.
“I like to be more direct.” I reply.
“I guess you do.”
Funny thing is I was prepared to loathe the guy then he has to laugh at me. I screw my face into a frown and force myself to think about the night his people awarded my brother membership just for killing that other fighter. Now I feel better. Just thinking about my brother makes me angry because I’m sure they must have brainwashed Caleb or he wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with them.
“Oops…you’re mad now. What did I say?”
“It’s not what you said.” I reply. “It’s…it’s…”
I’m really having a hard time staying mad here. All the guy has to do is open his mouth and laugh or talk and all my steely nerves and defenses just disappear. I have to force myself to remember I’m dating a cop.
“I think you’re just here to hit on me and you’re the last person I’d ever go out with.”
“You think I’m hitting on you? Darling if I was hitting on you there’d be no doubt and there’d be no defense against me.”
“Oh my god, are you freaking kidding me? Wow, and I almost thought you could actually be a nice guy. You’re nothing but an ass that’s full of himself. Wow…thank you so much for opening my eyes tonight.”
“You just keep getting angry dear, it’ll make this that much more fun.”
I can’t believe this guy. The more he talks the more pissed I’m getting. Problem is I know if I can’t stay mad at the guy I’m going to end up doing something stupid here. After setting his helmet on his handlebars he just walks up to me like I’ve invited him or something. The closer he gets to me the taller he seems to grow. By the time he’s within hand shaking distance it feels like he’s about ten feet tall. Now he takes off his gloves and holds out his right hand.
“So nice to see you again Kim.” He says.
Now I’m in trouble. The way my name comes rolling off his tongue really gets my juices flowing. I may as well hold up a white flag now because I’m rapidly becoming helpless around this man.
“I can’t believe you don’t remember my name.” He says and for a second I can hear his hurt pride showing through.
“Sorry…when we met I was going through some stuff. You could have been the president and I wouldn’t have remembered.”
“Yeah I guess it was pretty intense, that guy dying and all.”
“Oh that wasn’t the intense part.” I reply. I wasn’t going to tell him about my brother but there is just something about him that makes me open my stupid mouth and just say the first damn thing that pops into my head.
“What could be more upsetting than watching a man die right in front of you?” He asks.
“Yeah…it’s just a little more disturbing when it’s my brother who’s doing the killing and then the…the worst of all biker gangs actually rewards him for the killing… Now that’s disturbing.”
Now it’s his turn to be caught off guard. It takes a couple seconds for him to get his bearings again.
“Iron Skull is your brother?” He asks incredulously. “I’ve known the dude for almost three years and he hasn’t said a word about having a sister.”
“Yeah I’m not surprised at that. We haven’t spoken since he left home when we were in our teens and we didn’t leave on good terms. So that means I haven’t spoken to him in something like ten years I guess. So how’d he get tangled up with you guys?” I seriously doubt he’s going to answer that question.
“I really think that’s a question best answered by Skull.”
“Who the hell is Skull and why would he be the one to talk to me about my brother?”
“Because he is your brother.” He replies.
“Oh yeah… I’m just not used to the secret code name. I know him as Caleb not…not Skull or Iron Skull. Why do you guys call him that anyway?”
“Did I miss something?”
“We call him Skull, or Iron Skull because of a bar fight one night that some of the brothers got in to. Being a good prospect, your brother waded into the fight and started crushing heads. Then some guy cracks a pool cue right over the top of Skull’s head and he just blinks and kicks the dude’s ass. I have never seen anyone get a pool cue broken over their heads and still be able to stand afterwards. Your brother has the hardest fucking head I have ever seen.”
“Oh…”
While we have been talking I have this speech formulating in the back of my mind. It’s a good one and it’s the one that’s going to put this guy and his club of thieves in their place. Trouble is, the longer I stay here talking to him the more attracted to him I am. It’s an awkward situation at the very least. Bikers are supposed to be grubby, scruffy, and smelly. Seth is none of these things. He also seems to genuinely care about his brothers and he’s not some uneducated, barely literate human being. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he is college educated.
“So I guess now that my brother has a new family you’re going to forbid him from associating with his real one?”
“Why would I do that?” Seth replies with a perplexed look.
“Never mind. So how often does he do these fights?”
“It used to be just every once in a while, but now that he’s making a name for himself he’s getting even busier. The club manages him now and we’re trying to get him some big fights; headline fights. You should come to the next one. It’s at Arco Arena again, but he’s fighting an established fighter with a 21-1-0 record. They call him Breaker on account of how many bones his opponents have broken while fighting him. It’s the headline fight for the evening and supposedly Mike White from Surge is going to be there scouting him for the possibility of taking him on as one of their premier fighters. The guys who fight for Surge make twice as much as the average MMA fighter and they get so much more exposure. It’ll be a good fight.”
