by Candice Owen
Jason laid back into the soft sand, his face towards the great big sky wide above them. He helped her to free his erection which she quickly took into her mouth. He wrapped and unwrapped his finger in her wind-strewn hair and gasped as she worked up the walls of her mouth with hot moisture.
She drew down, swallowing him in long strides to the hilt, gliding her tongue on his magnificent shaft. His back arched with rapture. His fingers gripped her scalp, her wild hair rising between his fingers. She kneaded his testicles, pressing them as she made her mouth as tight as she could. Sharon looked up at him, with her sexiest face, teasing the tip of his cock while staring into his eyes.
That was it for him, she could tell. She quickly drew down with her mouth, in short motions, using the aid of her hand to finish him. He tapped her and she knew that he wanted to climax inside of her. So she straddled him. The straps of her sweet dress slid from her shoulder. Sharon took it one step further and pushed the dress down so that she was bare. Sharon loved her body and she liked the way the moon glinted on her breasts.
She cupped them, taking the pink tips in between her fingers to play with them. Jason pulled her to his mouth to sweep his tongue inside, working it all around. She had a leg on either side of him, her thighs like a piston pushing her body up and down to the peak. With the excitement of being outdoors in the night air, he was climaxing in no time.
As soon as their pleasure ebbed, they righted their clothes and lingered on the beach, entwined in one another. Then they quietly mounted the Harley and rode back to the hotel.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jason and Sharon’s honeymoon retreat had come to an end. They woke and rode back in towards the gym rested and refreshed. It would seem that nothing could ruin their serenity. They met Apollo at Lou's Blue's for breakfast to ease into their day. He had been saving some news for them so as not to disturb their restoration.
Not that Sharon had a roving eye, but Apollo was an extraordinarily handsome man. He was massive, broader-framed than Jason, and powerfully built. His dark hair was a bit long like Jason’s and rippled with waves like the sea. It was her distinct impression that he would know how to treat a lady.
She didn’t know him well but she did know he was pretty outspoken about his disapproval of her seeing Lance Sanchez¸ but he was always very respectful of her. She found him to be an honorable man and she had the very strong sense that he had something to report to them.
"There have been a number of developments while you guys were away. Most importantly, they found Polly. They pretty much kept it out of the news so you wouldn’t have heard about it. Apparently some of Melbourne’s not-so-finest were involved."
Sharon was shocked. "Is she okay?"
"She’s fine. She’s recovering. They found her in an empty industrial building on Ellis Road, not too far from Ink's."
"Good God," Jason uttered. "She was practically next door the entire time. That’s just sick."
"The cop that was dogging you, Sharon, was in Lance’s pocket. He is no longer employed. He's being investigated on a number of charges. Lance is being held without bail in light of Polly’s being able to identify him as her abductor. Marty, surprise, was also involved. They have him in the psych ward over at County. He might have a deal on the table if he talks. Lance was doing all kinds of nonsense. Running drugs. Marty had a steroid operation running out of Ink's. I am happy to report that is all cleaned up."
Jason and Apollo bumped fists. "Apollo, I don’t know what to say except that you have handled things exceptionally. You know Sharon and I are about to move into our new house and we’ll be planning a wedding, if she will have me. I think in the interest of Rowdy Riders, I would like to nominate you to be the captain of our club, if you’re interested."
Apollo was quiet. "I would have to give it some thought, Cap'n. I would of course like to open it up to the club if you are seriously thinking of stepping aside. There is a development in my own personal life that might conflict with such a responsibility."
He was hesitant, so Sharon encouraged him to finish his thought. "Do you feel like sharing this personal development? Are you okay?"
Apollo smiled. "I am more than okay. I think I may be in love."
The word 'love' transformed the enormous man into a pup. Jason and Sharon cackled. It was hilarious. "Who is the lucky woman and does she know?" asked Jason.
"It’s Polly. A couple of us were scouting some of the buildings on Ellis because as we got involved with Ink’s we got to talking about restoring the area into like a little biker town.
"We started walking around and we spied on this one boarded up building. It was a cool, old building. I just happened to peek in the window and there she was. They had her on a master, with a chain around her ankle.
"They left her a case of water and trail mix. Someone was sneaking in some food for her but I guess after Lance and everyone got busted, they were going to just leave her. No one mentioned, hey, by the way, we left a person to die. It was just lucky we found her. She weighed nothing in my arms. She’s a beautiful person. A beautiful woman."
"She is," Sharon agreed.
"I know she was going with your man, or Lance," Apollo said. "But—"
"But he had a way with messing with a woman’s head, I get it. We all get it," Jason said.
"I am so glad she has you," Sharon said.
"Anyway, she has a ways to go. She will probably be in the hospital for another couple of weeks. They physically abused her and scared her pretty bad. She isn’t talking, at least not to me, about all that went on, but I guess the counselors will do their magic. It will take time."
"Wait," said Sharon. "Which hospital?"
"County," said Apollo. "It’s great because it’s not too far from the gym and I could practically walk over and visit her anytime I wanted." Still, Sharon had reservations and Apollo sensed it. "I know, I know. I worried a little bit about that too. But they have Marty in a padded cell. They’re trying to get him off the juice. He has been doping for such a long time. They have to wean him off of it. Anyway, I can’t wait 'til I can ask her out. Do you think I have a chance?"
Sharon smiled. She loved Jason completely. Found him to be the sexiest man she would ever met, but Apollo was hot. And warm. "I think you have a very good chance."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The real estate agent called. It was time for Jason and Sharon to sign the papers to finalize the purchase of their new home. No more living in an apartment over the gym. Even though, admittedly, they were grateful they had it. The little white stucco house one block away from Paradise Beach glistened in the sun. Jason and Sharon dotted their i’s and crossed their t’s and took their keys to their new place. Home. Their home. It had a little red door and a white picket fence. They had few things to move in, but perhaps the best moving crew around. The Rowdy Riders Motorcycle Club.
Their yard was small and quaint and soon it was packed with the entire club celebrating a new beginning with their captain out of jail, the bad cop and Lance put away, and Polly found. It was positive all the way around.
"I only wish Polly could be here with us," said Apollo.
"She will be soon enough. I can’t wait to have the two of you over for dinner."
As she spoke those words, the air filled with the siren screams of rescue crews burning down the main street. "What the heck?" noted Jason.
"It’s got to be something major. Look at all of them," said Apollo.
Everyone in the yard craned their necks to look towards the line of fire trucks, ambulances, and cop cars rushing in the same direction. A neighbor from across the street hollered, "It’s the hospital. They have a gun man and he has a hostage."
Apollo looked at Jason and they both said at the same time, "Marty."
Jason got on his cell phone to the acting captain of La Calle Motorcycle Club. In case it was Marty, he was technically a member and he wouldn’t listen to Jason if it came to having to talk him down. Apollo was freaking, so Jason said, "W
e don’t know it’s her. Calm down or you won’t be able to ride. You and I will go, park at the gym and walk over. The hospital is going to be overrun with cops and everything, that’s our best bet. If it is what we are thinking, we’ll call our guys."
It was exactly what they were thinking. The acting captain of La Calle had his members park at the gym too and he, along with Jason and Apollo, approached the cops who were scratching their heads for a plan. A crazed Marty had Polly hostage. Apparently he, too, fell in love with her while she was being held captive.
Sharon stayed behind at her picture perfect little house feeling horribly guilty. She could not help but think had she just not fallen for Lance’s manipulations and gotten her to betray the man she had adored even while he was in prison, perhaps Polly’s life would not be in danger now. The neighbor, who had let them know about gunman at the hospital, came over and sat with Sharon on the front stoop of her house to wait it out.
"I have a nice bottle of white wine on ice, if you are interested," she offered. She was a sweet little old lady who lived alone.
Sharon was tempted. But the guilt she felt now for the entire situation would be nothing compared to what she would feel if she chose a time like this to have another slip. "How about I fix us up a couple of sparklers? That’s my name for a juice spritzer. I think we ought to be clear-headed when the guys come back. With good news I hope."
Jason’s quick thinking to contact the La Calle captain was a good move. The police negotiator failed, the nurse and the doctor treating Polly failed, but the captain got through. He talked Marty into going back to his room under escort of his motorcycle brethren with dignity and respect. Polly was released once again from captivity safe from harm.
Eventually, Jason set her up with private care in the apartment above Ink’s. That way she could be under the watchful eye of a handful of Rowdy Riders, who were either lifting or working there, and Apollo could finally relax.
Getting Sharon to relax was the next order on the list. She was really glad that everything turned out okay but she continued to be hard on herself, believing she had led everyone into this mess. Jason finally took her by the hand and sat her down. They were in the backyard of their new little home at the picnic table.
"I want to talk to you about your attitude," he said in a playfully stern voice. "I want you to stop."
"I can’t help—" she began.
Without warning, he swiftly had her up and over his knee. "You were saying?"
Sharon giggled so hard she could hardly speak except to protest, "No! No! What will the neighbors think?"
He leaned into her. "Did you ever think in all your days that you would be saying that?" As he held her in this position, Sharon could feel the heat on the cheek of her ass warmed by the sun. Her shorts were hiked a bit and the curves of her buttocks were exposed slightly. "Do I need to spank you or are you going to let it go?"
"I don’t know I might be bad on purpose," she teased.
"You’ll get it right here," he played.
"No, please, do not in any way outside while little old ladies can watch," she laughed.
"Do I need to take this inside?" Jason asked, his voice as smooth as honey.
"Did you say inside?"
"I did,” he answered, stroking the backs of her thighs ever so lightly. Currents of erotic electricity surged through her and she was aching to be filled. Her breath was uneven. "You okay?" he asked her sweetly. She could feel him growing hard.
"What about you?" she replied boldly and reached beneath her, between his legs.
"Knock that off. We have stuff to settle. This nonsense with Lance Sanchez started way before you were involved."
"Buzz kill," Sharon said, trying to deflect a painful subject.
"He wanted the gym from Darryl Haynes so he could deal dope out of it. I know this because he was my dealer." Sharon grew still from his confession. "I took dope just a little bit because I let myself get talked into thinking it was harmless. But when I wanted to back off, Lance blackmailed me. I went to the Feds but I soon found out everyone was dirty. It’s a long story, but if anyone is responsible, it’s me. And even before that, it’s Lance. So stop knocking yourself. If you are that powerful to make all the bad stuff happen, I am sure, given that you are a beautiful person, you would use your power for good."
"Okay I have no idea what you are talking about," she joked.
He rolled her over. "Yes you do." He looked her with love in his eyes, completely serious.
"Yes I do. And one day at time we will put this all behind us," she said.
Jason’s voice was smoky. "Did you say behind?"
In a very sly move, he slipped his fingers inside her. "Oh my goodness, I am weak for you. So, so weak for you," she said.
"And I for you. Let’s go inside and see how weak we can truly be."
Read on for an excerpt from Candice Owen's Riding Danger, a standalone novella:
It seems that Blaine Lowe’s luck is finally turning around.
Work was scarce for an ex-con with few marketable skills before he met Greg Pasquale, the leader of a local motorcycle gang who took a shining to Blaine and his plethora of not-so-marketable skills. Namely, kicking ass.
Felicity Pasquale is the only person in town who doesn’t know how her father makes his living.
Felicity was the apple of her father’s eye and completely sheltered from his less than legal business pursuits. That was until a handsome stranger showed up in town and went to work for her father. Suddenly she was paying close attention and wasn’t very happy about what she noticed.
Blaine should have known not to flirt with the boss’s daughter.
Mr. Pasquale is enraged by his disintegrating relationship with his daughter and made murderous by Blaine’s blatant disrespect. There was only one option available to Blaine: take Felicity as collateral and run far, far away.
Blaine knew he’d have to let her go, and he intended to do just that, but the longer she spent by his side the harder it was to remember that this woman wasn’t his to keep. Could he convince Felicity to forget as he had done?
CHAPTER ONE
The bus let Blaine out at a tiny little intersection near Highway 40. He stepped off the last stair, his boot heel scraping loudly as he did so. Black fumes belched out of the bus’ exhaust tailpipe while the afternoon sun shone down, brutally reminding him that it was August.
So, here he was—free. What the hell did that mean? He had clothes that were almost a decade old on his back, the seventy-five bucks that they gave every convict leaving the joint tucked into one pocket of his worn-out jeans, and no plans.
Those bastards had kept him on the inside for eight years. It was long enough for him to pretend to be rehabilitated and long enough for them to be satisfied that the best part of his life was behind him. He had gone in barely old enough to drink. Now, he was damn near thirty with no prospects and no clue as to what the hell he was supposed to do.
There was a mid-sized city a few miles up the highway. The driver had refused to stop there because he had more stops to make, and he did not get overtime. His job was to, as he put it, truck ‘em and dump ‘em, and it seemed he was satisfied with dumping Blaine out there in the middle of the emptiness.
Blaine did not blame him. Hell, if it had been him, he probably would have barely touched the brakes as they approached the highway. A determined man could tuck and roll after all.
He stood there, contemplating the possibilities. The mid-sized city lay one way. The other way would take him to a larger city, but it was nearly fifty miles away. There were no options really, so he started to walk toward the closest one.
They had given him a yellow envelope, holding all of his possessions: the battered jeans, the washed out t-shirt, socks, and a pair of underwear that had faded from black to a non-descript gray over the years. The boots had been issued to him in jail, and he knew better than to ask where the extremely expensive biker boots he’d worn the night he’d gone to prison h
ad disappeared to.
He started walking. There was nothing else to do anyway. His shadow stretched out long and lonely beside him. A few jet-black crows cawed at him from the telephone poles that tilted sideways along the sandy desert and the endless loop of gray ribbon that was the highway.
How far have I come? That wasn’t the real question though, was it? The real question was, where am I going? His misspent youth had wound him up in prison, caged up like a common animal. Now that he was free, he found that just walking along the highway — the long empty spaces and the ability to answer to nobody — was exactly what he needed.
