by Lexy Timms
“Sounds rough.”
“With this club, not so bad. With some of the one-percenters it can get really raw.”
“One-percenters?”
“Organized crime within a bike club.”
“But that’s a strange nickname.”
“You, madam, obviously don’t know your motorcycle club history.”
“History wasn’t my favorite subject in school.”
“So, the story is this. Way back in 1947—”
“1947?”
“Hush, woman. It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
“As I said, way back in 1947 in Hollister, California, the American Motorcycle Association held The Gypsy Tour Race. Thousands attended the race, and in the space of three days partied like it was 1999.”
“Wait. I didn’t think we were time traveling here.”
“Bear with me. The media picked up on the story, making it seem that the bikers were tearing up poor little Hollister because of bikers’ wild and wanton ways.”
“Oh yes,” said Chrissy, licking her lips. Was that involuntary or on purpose? Either way it made her rose-colored lips glisten with invitation. An image sprang to Saks’ mind of biting that lip and hearing her squeal. He cursed. This history lesson was doing nothing to curb his insane drive to take the woman on the couch. “I know something about those.”
Oh damn, oh damn, damn, he thought. “The stories, were, of course, not true,” Saks rasped.
“Yes,” said Chrissy, “because bikers are such fine upstanding citizens.”
“Should your sarcasm insult me?” asked Saks, arching his eyebrow.
“Oh, no. I like it when you’re upstanding.”
Oh fuck, oh fuck, ahhh fuck. Was she trying to seduce him? Must. Resist. “Sly innuendo notwithstanding,” he said, struggling to regain his composure.
“Something like that,” said Chrissy, looking up at him from under her thick eyelashes.
Damn. If she didn’t stop being so sexy, he might have to take her over his knee and spank the bad right out of her. In fact, that sounded like a good idea. Saks loved the thought of Chrissy’s hot body warming his lap while the palm of his hand roughed her sweet, round ass. Not too hard, mind you. Just enough to turn her on. His cock twitched in agreement.
“In any case,” continued Saks as he warred with his libido, “one infamous line in a story read: ‘The trouble was caused by the one percent deviant that tarnishes the public image of both motorcycles and motorcyclists.’ The conclusion was ninety-nine percent of bikers are law-abiding citizens, and the ‘one percent’ are nothing more than ‘outlaws.’”
“You,” said Chrissy, “take your motorcycle club history seriously.” She turned and landed on the couch, sitting too close to him. Her sexy thighs were inches from his, close enough for him to lean over and kiss her without effort. But his battered body reminded him that things had not worked out well this weekend, and staying away from her was the best thing for his health. Unfortunately, his twitching cock disagreed. Her perfume reminded Saks of her silken heat when he was inside her.
She twisted her body so that her elbow sat on the top lip of the couch, thrusting her luscious breasts toward his face. She did it so casually, as if she was unaware of the effect this pose had on Saks—or, rather, his cock. The damned thing stiffened as if trying to meet her luscious globes.
“Are there are one-percenters in this area?” she asked.
“Yeah. Though the ones we keep running into are the Rojos.”
“Sounds Hispanic.”
“They are.”
“Bad men?”
“Yes.”
It hit Saks that his answers had now devolved into one- or two-word answers, as his cock demanded more attention than the conversation.
“Damn,” said Saks as he twisted his head to look out the window. He desperately hoped the shift in his seat would hide his rock-hard cock. “Why isn’t that truck here yet?”
Disappointment flashed in Chrissy’s blue eyes and Saks regretted his words. But he needed to get away.
She let her arm drop onto the couch. Saks was very aware that her lower lip stuck out in a half-pout, which spun him to the periphery of his control. “I’m sorry,” she said contritely. The sincere way she delivered those words made Saks feel like he did something horrible to force them from her.
How do women do that? he thought. How do they apologize and make you think you’re the biggest dick in the world at the same time? “For what?” he said.
“For saying I’d never marry a Rocco man. I was shocked when I found out who you were and, well, I didn’t act in my right mind. You have to admit that finding out the man you’re sleeping with is the man your parents want you to marry is weird. And upsetting.”
“You went to bed with me and didn’t regret it until you found that out. Chrissy, that hurt.” What the fuck? When did he get girly and admit his feelings?
“I’m sorry,” she said plaintively, as if she felt his emotional bruise. “How can I make it up to you?”
Saks’ mouth suddenly became as dry as the Sahara. “How do you want to make it up?”
“I’ve been bad,” she said huskily.
Boom. Reason left the building, followed by his cousin Good Sense.
“I suppose, then,” he said, “I’ll have to spank you.”
CHAPTER SIX
Oh, fuck. She’d gone and done it now.
Okay. It was her fault for blatantly seducing the poor guy. She didn’t know what came over her. Was it his gorgeous body? Or his dark, sexy eyes smoldering as he undressed her with them? Or the low, rumbling tones of his voice that made her weak in the knees? Fuck, it was everything about him that maddened her with thoughts of plastering her body against his and riding it until they both saw stars.
But when he said he wanted to spank her?
Apprehension washed over her, along with curiosity about what it would be like to have Saks’ broad hand smack her bottom. The idea excited her. She was never one for pain, but Saks looked as if he would melt at first contact with her flesh. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her. That wasn’t the point here.
A little excitement with your pleasure, ma’am?
Oh, hell yes. She nodded. “I deserve it. I’ve been bad.”
“You seriously want me to spank you?” said Saks. The timbre of his voice dropped another octave that made her stomach flip.
“I want to make things up to you, sir.” Damn him, he was making her beg for it. Her cheeks flamed with this new humiliation.
“Get over here,” he growled. “On my lap. Now.”
Oh fuck. Saks’ eyes burned with an intensity she’d never seen before in a man. A frisson of fear washed through her, but also an aching anticipation as she imagined herself over his knee making herself vulnerable to him in every way.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Take off your jeans.”
She stood, and he watched her as if she were prey as she wiggled her jeans off her hips and stepped out of them.
“Lay over my lap.” Saks scooted to the edge of the couch, making his knees a platform. His eyes gazed at her with a hardness she’d never seen there. No man had given her a spanking, nor would she allow it until now.
Sakes slowly nodded his head towards his knees with an expression that was almost begging her. Hesitantly, she lowered body to lie across them. He pulled her gently forward so her breasts were hanging off one side of his knees and her bottom stuck up as her knees touched the floor. He positioned her arms at her side, increasing her sense of helplessness. His hard cock pressed into her arm.
Which only excited her more. Was it going to hurt? She thought he might at least leave her panties on as some sort of shield against the anticipated sting, but no such luck. He pulled them down to her thighs, exposing her bare bottom and holding her thighs in place.
“Bad girls,” he said, his voice as thick as gravel, “need punishment.”
A small sound came from
Chrissy’s throat.
“Quiet,” he ordered. “I don’t want to hear a sound from you. Nod your head showing me you understand.”
Chrissy bobbled her head on his thigh. This was so much more intense than she’d imagined. It certainly wasn’t any little-girl spanking.
“Good,” he said. But instead of his hand hitting her bottom, he sought her breast and tweaked her nipple.
She moaned as she exhaled. “Hmmm!”
“Someone doesn’t know how to follow instructions,” said Saks. His hand slapped her behind with a slightly stinging blow. She jerked and squirmed, but it didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. Then Saks did a curious thing. With his palm, he swirled soothing circles on her flesh.
A groan escaped her lips. She never imagined receiving a spanking would feel this good.
“See,” he said silkily, one of his fingers sliding against her sex, teasing but not slipping inside her. “Good, huh? Do you want another?”
Did she? Did she? She writhed again but not from pain. Her stomach fluttered and her core tensed with anticipation.
“Should I make my bad girl feel good?”
She nodded, and he rewarded her with another thwack to her back end. She jerked but more from his hand hitting her rear rather than from real hurt. He rubbed the area sensuously and she grew wet.
He leaned over and kissed the sensitive area, and more of her juices moistened her center.
“You smell,” he whispered, “so fucking hot. I could fuck you right now. Grab your hips and pound you from behind until you scream my name.”
Chrissy whimpered. This man made her a mess of desire and emotions. She wanted him—bad. So much she couldn’t care less what her family thought about it. She wanted him to have her right now.
“Bad girl,” he said with mock disappointment. “I said not to make any noise.”
His hand swatted her with a little more force this time. As the burn of his hand brought tears to her eyes, it took everything she had not to make a sound. It didn’t really hurt. What hurt was wanting him inside her and he’d made no move to take her.
“There,” he said appreciatively as he smoothed her sensitive flesh. “I think you’ve learned your lesson.”
Chrissy breathed hard. The last strike blossomed her desire into a full-blown blaze. Every part of her burned for him, for Saks to give her what he promised not seconds ago.
He lifted her off his knees and disappointment spread through her. He wasn’t going to stop now, was he?
Her eyes met his and she couldn’t plead more elegantly for him to take her if she wrote an eight- stanza love poem. What drew them was together was magnetic. It wasn’t him or her who made the first move. Their lips met in a crushing kiss, dancing over flesh, screaming their passion for each other. Their lips sought ears, neck, breasts frantically, and Chrissy reached for Saks’ belt.
He didn’t need more of a hint. He pulled at his buckle and stood, dropping his pants. Chrissy leaned forward on the couch, pushing her rear toward him, and looked over her shoulder.
Saks stood there, almost in shock, but then he shook his head and dropped to his knees. He pulled her knees apart.
A sensation burned through her that sent her lust into overdrive.
Saks put his hands on both sides of her derrière, but then lowered his head and sank between her legs. His tongue licked at her bud, sending shocks through her. But it wasn’t what she needed. She was too far gone for more foreplay and thought she’d cry in frustration.
“Fuck me, Saks,” she gritted. “Now.”
“Bossy.”
“Damn straight.”
She gasped when he shifted and then thrust into her in one fluid move. Chrissy bucked her hips into him, and he thrust again and again while his hands slid up her back and held her shoulders. He held her in place with his strong hands, his cock pounding her relentlessly.
Chrissy let go of all control. She melted with the rising sensations coursing through her body, her breath speeding up, moaning with every thrust he made into her.
Her back arched and her legs trembled. If Saks didn’t hold her so tightly, she would have melted into the couch. One of his hands squeezed her breast and she shivered. Every inch of her flesh burned with pleasure, every stroke of his cock was sweet delightful torture. She jammed her hands into the leather of the couch and pushed back onto his hot dick, needing every inch he could give her.
She panted, stuck at a plateau, overheated and too excited to catch more sensation. She whimpered. She worried that in her hyper-excited state if she would come at all.
“Fuck me,” she said in fierce whisper. “Fuck me, hard. I need to come.”
She had never been so wanton with a man, so demanding of her own pleasure. Saks threw his muscled arm around her chest and drew her upright. His back pressed against hers, he twisted a nipple sharply with his fingers. But Chrissy was so excited that, instead of pain, a jolt of pleasure shot through her.
“I am fucking you,” he husked in her ear. “I fucking own you. And you’ll come when I say you will.”
Saks’ dirty words drove her nearly over the edge. She focused on the gathering storm in her core, the heat of him filling her with his cock and how each thrust stoked the fire in her. His chest against her back sparked electricity through her spine. Her body tensed. This was it. She was close.
Saks seemed to know.
“Come with me,” he rasped. “Come, now!”
As if he willed her orgasm, she broke apart as his cock slammed into her.
“Saks!” she cried.
“Chrissy!”
His steel-hard shaft pulsed as he rammed her, and his orgasm drew hers out longer. She shuddered again in a second burst, a sharp aftershock of the first glorious coming. And then she shuddered again as pleasure flooded her body.
“Fuck, Saks,” she gasped as she fell forward on the couch. “That was incredible.”
Saks stopped moving and lay across her back. “Damn, woman,” he said. “If this is what the doctor meant by watching out for me, I approve. I think my headache’s gone.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Saks lay on Chrissy’s back, a boneless mess. He thought he’d had good sex before but now was disabused of that notion. Making love to Chrissy left him totally shattered. He wasn’t even sure he could move off her.
Finally, his cock softened and one little jiggle from either of their bodies would disconnect them.
Can I just go to sleep here? He snuggled against Chrissy’s hot body, but then jolted to the present with the blare of a truck’s backing klaxon.
“Saks,” said Chrissy. “It’s the tow truck.”
“Shit!” Saks jumped to his feet.
Freed, Chrissy rolled away and bent down to grab clothes off the floor. She threw Saks’ jeans at him and then threw her own clothes on before flying out the door with her purse in hand. The horn blew again for slightly longer. Saks followed at a slow pace.
The driver arched an eyebrow when Saks gave him instructions to drop it in the parking lot of Central Valley Bike Repair.
“I work there. The owner lets me use the bays.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, as if he didn’t believe that Saks’ beater would be welcome at a bike shop. But all he had to do was tow the thing. Chrissy stood at Saks’ side as the beater car drove away on the back of the rumbling tow truck.
“Well, what now?” said Saks.
“How about breakfast?”
Saks gave her a disparaging glance and Chrissy blushed.
“Yeah, right? Not my finest moment. But I’ll be good,” she said. “No Eggs Benedict. I promise.”
“You’d better be good,” he said in a gruff, teasing voice. “Otherwise, I might have to take you over my knee. Again.”
“I knew you were bad,” said Chrissy with a sexy smirk. “I didn’t know you were into kink.”
“Sweetie, there are lots of things I’m into.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and gave her a kiss that seared his l
ips with her heat and left him lightheaded. His cock stirred, looking for round two. Damn. That was a quick recovery. Chrissy made him want her.
All thoughts about what was good for him, not getting involved with his uncle’s plans or the Serafinis, quickly flew out the window. And then his knees buckled under him and he thought for a moment he was going to pass out. Over a girl?
Chrissy caught him before he fell by bracing him against her side. “Easy, tiger,” she said. “The doctor ordered you to rest.”
“You didn’t say that a half hour ago,” he said.
“You were acting all hale and hearty. But I should’ve known better.”
“Okay, okay,” grumbled Saks, no longer hungry and not liking the pain searing up the back of his head and pushing against his forehead. “Help me to your chariot and bear me away to my humble abode.”
“Oh, brother,” said Chrissy. “What did that car hood jar loose from your brain?”
“My pubescent love of Shakespeare.”
“Shakespeare?”
“She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is woman, and therefore to be won.”
“Okay, Shakespeare, let’s get you into the car.”
“Saks, my name’s Saks.”
“Yes, Mr. Anthony Parks.”
With a grumble, Saks settled into the front seat of Chrissy’s hand-me-down Cadillac. She disappeared and the clack of her heels on the wood staircase rang through the parking lot. Then a door shut and her heels clattered on the steps. She tossed a backpack into the back of the car.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Lady things,” she said mysteriously.
“Uh-huh.” If he had more energy, he’d have pushed for more info. Instead, he decided she could tell him whatever she wanted.
“Look, I’m supposed to keep an eye on you. That doesn’t mean I can’t take a shower and change into something clean.”
“Don’t wear clothes on my account,” he said with a wicked smile on his lips. “It might facilitate my healing to see your beautiful body bounce around my apartment.”
“Oh, no, lover boy. No more excitement. Just rest and healing.”
