Looking up, I change the subject, praying that he will allow me to gloss over what he said. “What about you? What’s your story?”
Knowing exactly what I’m doing, Hulk chuckles, but allows the change in topic. For the next hour, Hulk and I talk, telling each other more than I would normally share with a complete stranger. I get the sense that this sharing is not normal for him either, but somehow talking to him comes naturally. I want to share my stories with him. I want to know all about him.
Finally, Hulk glances at his watch. “Holy shit. It’s getting late and we have an early start in the morning.”
“We?” I ask with my head tilted.
His lips twist up in a smirk on one side. “Yes, we. Perth ain’t far from where I’m goin’, so that means you’re ridin’ the rest of this trip with me, darlin’.”
Nine
The next morning, I meet Hulk outside at exactly seven in the morning. As I approach, I take in his long legs and wide chest, my heart skipping a beat when his eyes swing to mine. “Mornin’, Sunshine,” he drawls.
“Good morning.” I look around, noting the only motorcycles in the lot are mine and his. “Where are the others?”
He smirks. “They went on ahead. It’s just you and me today.” I blink up at him, not sure what to say. Hulk smirks and walks towards me, his hand coming up and tucking a stray blonde curl behind my ear. “That okay with you, Princess?”
Swallowing, all I can do is nod. Maybe I’m out of my league here. I mean, Scott is the only man I have ever really been around, and he’s an accountant. That’s a far cry from this man standing before me, complete with long beard and tattooed arms. Hulk lowers his hand, and I have to stop myself from moving into him, wanting to get that touch back.
I watch, my mouth dry as he steps away and puts on his helmet, swinging his leg over his ride. With a wink in my direction, he starts it up and watches as I collect myself and do the same. Before I know it, we are side by side, roaring down the highway. We still have a long way to go, and my heart pounds wildly when I remember that we still have one more night before we arrive at our destination. One night at a hotel, with a sexy man that sets me on fire with a simple look.
The morning flies by as we drive along, Hulk pointing at different things he wants me to see. When we stop for lunch, we make it quick, anxious to get back on the road. I can’t help but notice little things about him as we drive. The way he always maneuvers our bikes to put himself between me and oncoming traffic, and the way he grins over at me when I point excitedly at something I see along the way. Companionship with Hulk somehow comes naturally, and that is something that I am just not used to.
Finally, after twelve long hours on the road, we pull into our final stop, exhausted and covered in road grime. We end up with rooms side by side, and agree to meet just outside our doors in thirty minutes.
In the shower, I think about the strangeness of it all. Just a few days ago, I was a miserable housewife and here I am now, travelling across the country on my very own motorcycle with a sexy stranger who wants to take me out for dinner, yet again. I know I should feel guilty for how excited that makes me, but I don’t. I feel nothing but excitement, and a whole lot of lust.
Once again, Hulk is waiting for me when I step outside. Heat floods my cheeks as his gaze sweeps me from head to toe, his lips pressed together in appreciation. “Fuck, woman, you are gorgeous.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Nobody has ever said anything like that to me in my life, and nobody has ever looked at me the way Hulk is looking at me right now. I know that my cheeks are a flaming shade of red because they feel like they are on fire.
Instead of responding, I grab his arm and pull him towards the restaurant at the front of the motel. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get you fed.”
I hear him chuckle, but he comes along willingly, and we quickly find ourselves a booth. Conversation flows between us naturally while we eat, and before I know it, we’ve finished, and Hulk is paying the bill. Butterflies take flight inside my belly because I know that it’s still too early to turn in, and I’m not really sure what his intentions are. What I do know is that riding with him today, and talking with him tonight has done nothing to quiet down the heat I feel when I look at him, and I can see by the look in his eyes that he just might feel the same way about me.
Walking back to our rooms, my mind fights a war with itself, trying to decide if I should invite him in for a bit or not. I left my husband barely three days ago. What business do I have, getting involved with another man?
We reach the doors of our adjoining rooms and turn to face each other. Maybe it’s best if I don’t do this. I open my mouth to wish him a good night, when his lips crash onto mine. My body locks solid in shock as the warmth of his mouth coaxes mine to move with his.
Hulk’s kiss pours passion into my very soul, sweeping me into a breathless frenzy. No man has ever kissed me like this—like he needs it to survive. Suddenly, I feel beautiful, valuable, and fragile, all at the same time. Before I can give it another thought, my fingers come up and spear themselves into his hair, holding his head in place while my tongue slips inside his mouth, the taste of him driving me wild.
Taking a step forward, his large body presses mine against the door to my room, his hand coming down to cup my ass. The groan that comes rumbling up from his chest makes my knees go weak. Ripping his lips from mine, he stares down at me, his eyes hooded and full of heat.
“Holly, I know you’re not fuckin’ ready for this, but I need you so goddamn bad right now.”
He’s wrong. I am ready for this. I need this. I need to know what it feels like to be wanted like Hulk wants me. I need to show him how he makes me feel. I need to feel his skin against mine. Locking my gaze on his, I press my body to his and whisper, “I need you too.”
I watch, fascinated, as his eyes flare and a slow grin takes over his face. Without another word, he pulls his room key from his pocket and swipes the card through the lock.
Ten
Hulk doesn’t let me go as he pushes me into his hotel room, and I don’t take my eyes off his as he walks me backwards and lowers me to the bed. My chest heaves and I struggle to catch my breath as Hulk reaches back and peels off the tight black T-shirt he’s wearing. His bare chest is covered in tattoos, and his muscles look as if they were chiselled from stone.
Like it has a mind of its own, my hand drifts up to trace the lines on his torso. “Your turn, Princess,” he declares, his voice husky as he slips his fingers inside the hem of my shirt and whisks it over my head. Cool air hits my flesh—the only thing holding back the goosebumps being the heat from Hulk’s gaze. His hand effortlessly unhooks my bra and before I know it, I am naked from the waist up.
“Fuck,” he mutters as his lips descend. He pays homage to my throat, my collarbone, the swell of my breasts. When he finally closes his mouth around my nipple, I cry out with need, my hips rolling to gain friction against his jean clad thigh.
“Hulk, please,” I gasp, more turned on than ever before. The need to feel him bury himself deep inside of me has me panting.
“My baby is greedy,” he murmurs, unbuttoning my jeans while his tongue dips into my belly button. In record time, my pants are gone and I lay before him, completely naked, watching as he slowly removes his pants.
The sight of him standing there naked has me forgetting all about the need to get him inside of me, and fills me with a new one. Rolling to my knees, I creep forward on all fours until I am right in front of him. Looking up at him from beneath my lashes, I hold his stare as I drag my tongue up the underside of his cock. His eyes fall closed as he groans, and an ache builds low in my belly, the need for release almost painful.
He opens his eyes and places his palm on the back of my head as I slowly take him inside my mouth. His hips sway, pushing himself in and out as I swirl my tongue around his shaft, sucking deep. He hisses with pleasure and skates his hand down the sensitive flesh of my spine, the he pulls away and le
ans forward, reaching around behind me. I gasp in surprise when his finger plunges into my wetness, searching out my swollen clit.
He rolls his finger in tight circles, his lips sliding along my skin. The heat burns in my clit as my orgasm rises to just below the surface, and then he’s gone and I’m being flipped to my back. “Can’t take it,” he says through gritted teeth, and I watch in awe as he stands between my parted legs, sliding a condom over his massive cock.
Finally, he positions himself and leans forward to give me a fast, hard kiss. “Hold on, Princess.”
Hulk fills me. His hard cock slides in and out of me with a pace that has me gripping the sheets. Grasping my hips, he tilts them and uses them to slam my body back down onto him, the friction and the pleasure making the burn in my clit turn to a white heat that has me closing my eyes as I scream his name, my body trembling, needing to feel the sweet release it promises.
“Open your eyes, Holly,” he grinds out through gritted teeth.
I do as I’m told, and I’m rewarded with the sight of his tattooed arm moving between us, his fingers reaching down and pinching my clit. My cry is silent as my orgasm washes over me, my mouth open in ecstasy as I struggle to remember to breathe. Hulk’s thrusts lose all rhythm and his breaths come out in ragged gasps. Together we soar over the edge, lost in the feelings of each other’s bodies.
He falls to the side, his chest rising and falling at a rate that matches my own, both of us taking a moment for our heart rates to slow. I watch, exhausted as Hulk lifts up, presses a kiss to my brow and heads for the bathroom. He returns a moment later and slides in beside me, collecting me in his arms and burying his nose in my neck.
“Jesus, Holly. I know you aren’t ready for me yet, but if I had made you myself, you wouldn’t be more fuckin’ perfect.” I tilt my head and look up at him, unsure how to respond to that. He grins back at me. “Incredible,” he whispers before his lips cover mine once more.
Eleven
We pull up to my father’s house the next afternoon, and my gut churns. Not only is this the first time I’ve been home since the funeral, but this is also the end of my journey with the incredible biker man that showed me what it was like to feel like a woman again.
Climbing off my motorcycle, I turn and face Hulk, a lump forming in my throat. He looks around and lets out a low whistle. “Nice digs,” he says with a grin.
He’s right. The house is beautiful, but right now, I just want to wrap myself up in his arms and forget all about this scary new life I am about to begin. I want to turn around and head back to that hotel, where we had spent the entire night getting lost in each other, over and over again.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask, my voice thick with emotion.
He tilts his head to the side and takes a step towards me, his hand coming up so he can run his thumb along my cheekbone. “No, Princess. I need to get back.” His other hand comes up, and he places a soft kiss on my forehead. “You don’t know how bad I want to come in,” he whispers into my hair. “You have some work to do. Get your shit sorted out, and when you write your book, make sure you remember how I made you scream.”
I giggle through my tears as he gives me another kiss and climbs back onto his bike. With one last gorgeous smile to remember him by, he’s gone.
Twelve
I stare in disbelief at the article in the newspaper. It’s been eight months since I left my husband, and everything has changed. My divorce is final, and the house has been slightly modified to my liking. I have reconnected with old friends and finally have a bit of a social life. Most importantly, though, I have written and self-published my first book. A couple of weeks ago, it hit the New York Times Best Seller list, and now there is an article about me in the Ottawa Sun.
These past eight months have been filled with struggle and frustrations, but also more beauty than I have ever experienced. I have used every emotion, heartache, and hurt to write the best book I could, and I know that somewhere out there, my father is proud of me.
I put the paper on the table and head to the kitchen, just as a loud rumble comes from outside. I move towards the window and my heart skips when I see the large man climbing off the motorcycle out in my driveway.
I haven’t seen or heard from Hulk since that day he left me here to start my life, but I’ve thought of him every day since. Rushing to the front door, I fling it open, just as he lifts his hand to knock. We both stare at each other in surprise for what feels like forever, but in actuality, it’s only a second in time before I jump up, wrapping my body around him.
He laughs and hugs me tightly, stepping inside the house and closing the door behind him. After a long moment, he sets me on my feet and grins down into my face. “I read your book, Princess. It was fuckin’ sexy as hell.” I beam back at him, still shocked that he is actually here. His hand shoots out and fists itself in my hair. “So fuckin’ proud of you, baby.”
His lips hit mine in a frenzy, and together we clutch and pull at each other, not able to get close enough to be satisfied. He tastes just as I remembered, and I don’t want it to ever end. My heart drops when he pulls away, still holding my head in place by the hair at the nape of my neck. We stare at each other with fire in our eyes before he finally says, “Please tell me you’re ready for me, Holly.”
I know what he means, and I can’t stop the tear that slides down my cheek. All these months, while I had been sorting out the mess that was my life, Hulk had been back home, waiting. And now it was time.
“I’m ready,” I whisper.
“Thank fuck,” he growls as his lips cover mine once more.
Geri Glenn is the best-selling author of Kings Of Korruption MC Series.
Geri lives in beautiful New Brunswick, Canada. She is a military wife, the mother of two gorgeous, but slightly crazy little girls, and just recently was fortunate enough to quit her day job to stay home and do what she loves most - write!
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A Road to Nowhere
Crimson Outlaws MC Short Story
(Coming to you as Full Novel in December 2016)
Bink Cummings
Turning into the rural lot after dusk, I release the throttle and drop my booted feet to the ground. The wet gravel crunches under my heels and tires as I walk to my spot—the first space in a long row of black and chrome. Kicking my stand down, I cut the engine and dismount my bike. Riding twenty minutes outta town in a micro-mini skirt isn’t what I’d call comfortable, but it fits tonight’s festivities. My corset hidden beneath my leather jacket is even more apt for such an occasion.
Peeling off my leather gloves, I toss them into my saddle bag and run my hands over my hips to right my skirt so my bareness underneath is momentarily concealed. Then I remove my helmet and rest it safely on my bike’s seat. The fresh scent of spring engulfs my senses. Damn, I love being outside, riding with the wind, my legs wrapped around my bike. It’s about flippin’ time that winter’s wrath has passed. Tonight was the first time I’ve ridden my Harley since October.
Combing my fingers through my long, chestnut colored hair, I shift on my feet, readying my nerves. A deep inhale steels them a fraction further, even though my heart is nearly beating out of my chest and my palms are clammy. You’d think after two-plus years of these monthly visits that I’d be immune to this by now. That the mixture of tension and anticipation simmering underneath the surface would vanish. That I wouldn’t chew my glossed bottom lip as I move toward the entrance of Nowhere Bar. That my heart wouldn’t flutter, then almost bottom out when I take the first step. Another gulp and I set my shoulders back, holding my head hi
gh as the thumping of music draws me nearer. Three more wooden steps and I’m on the bar’s wraparound porch.
Stalling, I scan my surroundings. If you’ve ever driven by this place you’d swear that the Wild West exterior would have horses tied to posts outside. Instead, there are tons of motorcycles lining the bar’s front. Across the gravel lot, alongside the butting forest, cars and trucks mark their own parking spots. A dim light attached to the bar’s roof illuminates them in the distance like something out of a bad horror movie.
One more step closer to the door and my legs turn to lead. I don’t know why it’s always this way. Why it’s so hard for me. Why I can’t succumb to the choice I made years ago to feed this hunger that gnaws at my deepest self. It’s insatiable, and tonight, it’s going to be fed. It’ll gorge itself until next month when the recess is empty and the bottomless ache awakens my appetite yet again. My logical mind tells me this is wrong. That I shouldn’t be walking into the lion’s den of a biker bar. What if my students knew I visited here for this reason? God, I’d be fired for sure.
My fingers curl around the cool handle of the squeaky screen door. It’s time.
Just as I pull it wide, the interior door swings open and there stands Price, wearing his cut and signature bowtie. “Well, lookie who the cat dragged in.”
He winks at me and steps away so I’m able to come inside. The potent scent of leather and alcohol hits my nose full force. My heart lodges into my throat as I wade further into the space, my heels clicking on the wooden floor.
Men—the men that I’ve known for over a decade—are milling about. Some are playing pool in the corner, taking shots of Jack from a bottle. Others are preoccupied with club whores. This is the Crimson Outlaws’ watering hole—their domain. Club whores are always here in abundance, their scantily clad bodies continuously in a state of undress. There’s rarely an occasion that I don’t arrive to see a man balls deep in some pussy. These girls are pros. They put on award winning shows of hedonistic pleasure that make me weak with envy. I’m no professional. No whore. I’m just … me. Gwen Donovan, thirty-three year old mother of one. An average, every day, high school teacher with a taste for bad boy dick, who also happens to ride a motorcycle. And…
Biker Chicks: Volume 2 Page 15
