Tank: Apaches MC

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Tank: Apaches MC Page 4

by Stephens, Olivia


  He stands, his body slowly rising for me to see. That familiar bit of heat rising from the pit of my stomach comes up again, as I try to hold my own self steady. “Listen, Sierra. I am not insulting you. I’m insulting their family. Obviously, something is going on outside club shit. She either was more involved than you say, or he had something to do with it. It’s the truth, and if you can’t take it, I’ll leave.”

  “Fine!” I scream back at him. “Get the hell out of my house! I didn’t want you here anyways. I didn’t even let you in!”

  He takes two giant steps past me, sending a wave of cold air over my body. As he gets to the door, his spins back around to face me. His hand lifts by his face before he walks back quickly. And before I know it, that hand is on the back of my neck as he pulls my face into his. I can only get a tiny second’s worth of air before our lips touch and I lose all sense of control.

  Tank doesn’t kiss me gently. He kisses me as if he means every motion, every turn, every pucker and pout of his lips. He kisses as if he is in total control. And as much as he infuriates me with his has-to-be-right behavior, I still can’t help but let him take me like this.

  I come to as I remember where I am and whom I am with. I push him away as hard as I can, but he’s managed to wrap his boa like arms around my hips and waist. My body dips back as I look at him in his wild, untamed eyes. My hand drifts up and touches one of his messy and out of place curls that frame his strong, muscular face.

  He lets go, and I sink quickly back down towards the bed.

  Chapter 5: Curves and Edges

  What the fuck did I just do? Did I really just kiss this girl? I’ve done some pretty stupid shit in my time on Earth, but this is up there. I just couldn’t help myself. That body, those lips, and the way she could talk to me without a second thought…I was gone as soon as I brought her passed out body upstairs to her bedroom.

  I take a step back as she falls onto the bed. Her eyes are wide and curious. I can’t tell if she’s shocked or sending me a message that she wants more. Both of us are both breathing loudly, almost panting. I think we both know that whatever the next move is, it’s gonna be the game-changer.

  So I go back to where I was at the side of the bed. She doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch. She turns back to her side and watches me as I kneel down slowly. I line my face up with hers, wanting to have the opportunity to taste her again if she will let me. But more importantly, I want her to touch me like she did with the curl of my hair.

  When she speaks, she’s doing it to break the ice. I can tell that she hates the silence between us. Whatever she is saying doesn’t matter. I know what she wants, and it’s the same thing I crave, too. “What are you still doing here?”

  “What are you doing lying there?” I quickly retort.

  “This is my bedroom,” she says dryly, as she bites her bottom lip. “I live here.”

  “And I’m here to get some answers to my questions.” In the moment, I forgot what those questions were and why the rest of the Apache leadership thought I should talk to her again. I was just at a meeting minutes ago… or was it hours? With her, time seems to just escape me.

  “I answered them. I don’t know anything. Shouldn’t you go?” She leans in even closer.

  She said ‘shouldn’t’ as if she was asking me if it was right or wrong for me to be here. But there was something else. She wasn’t kicking me out of this room or her house. Shouldn’t and should are two very different things. And hers was an invitation.

  The light through the open window dances a bit, as a car drives by slowly past the apartment complex. It illuminates her figure against the thin dress she still has on. When she lies on her side, I can see the curve of her hip like a soft ‘u’ and the roundness of her ass. Her tits push further together as I catch the crevice between the two. All I can think about is resting my head between those two mounds and breathing her in.

  I make a decision then and there. I wasn’t going to back away from this, no way. So I go all in. I pick myself up a bit, enough so that I can wrap an arm around the side of her waist. It rests on the bed so that I am straddling her. In a quick move, I manage to throw my legs across her body. She turns with me, her face morphing when she realizes what is happening.

  But she doesn’t say no. She doesn’t push me away. I can’t fucking believe it, but she’s actually giving me permission to do this to her. I don’t want to take this too fast—even though all I can think about is getting to her sweet little caramel-colored pussy as soon as possible.

  Instead, I let myself do something I have been thinking about since I first saw her. My head lowers to her chest, along the edge of her denim-colored dress. I let my nose graze her perfect skin as it traces a short line across one of the tops of her breasts. It’s just a light touch, enough so that she can just barely feel me make an impression on her. Underneath me, I can feel her stomach cave in just slightly. She’s ticklish. I like that.

  As I go, I inhale deeply at her scent. Unlike most girls I know, she’s not covered in perfume or fake scents. She doesn’t smell like flowers or some fucking store where high school bitches hang out. No, she smells like a girl should, like a summer morning right after rain. My mouth can’t help but let my tongue get a taste of it. With each lick, I can feel the little bumps on her skin rise to attention.

  When I get to the thin straps of her dress, I bare my teeth. Before she can say no, I grab hold of one with my mouth and slide them down her shoulders, past her thin arms, and down to her hands. Just as I suspected, she’s not wearing a bra underneath. This girl isn’t as innocent as I thought she was. And when I finish removing the second strap, I let myself sit up and admire my work.

  Sierra stares at me in the dark. Her lips are parted just enough for me to see her tongue resting up against her teeth. Her eyes blink open and close, as she tries to focus on my shape as well. But her hands dart to her chest, covering up her tits as if they are something to be ashamed of. I hate secrets, especially when they are keeping me from getting what I want.

  My hands wrap around her little wrists, and I forcefully pull her hands and arms just above the crown of her head. “Tank…,” she whispers, unsure of how to finish.

  With one hand holding her arms in place, I place the other pointer finger to her lips to shush her. Instead, she goes bold. She opens her mouth wide, enough for me to slip it in. I feel her tongue rest up against the pads of my skin before something sharp penetrates the skin. Her teeth bite into my flesh. I can practically sense the blood pooling to the cut she’s made. I pull it out quickly, and hold it to my face. Just out of view, I can see her smile devilishly.

  I put the finger in my own mouth, and the taste of the mix of metallic blood, her lipstick, and a combination of our salvia. Nothing has ever tasted so good to me in my entire life. Even our bodies seem to synch together in ways I didn’t think possible.

  I return my attention to her body, which is still laying under me. Her skin glows, as the pale streetlights outside shine in through the open window. My head dips down towards her chest, but I take my time, teasing her. I kiss the side of her neck gently, and I feel her coo beneath me. I do the same to the opposite side, dragging my bottom lip up the nape of her neck to just behind her earlobe, softly breathing on her, feeling her goosebumps rise up beneath my chin.

  She’s enjoying the hell out of this. I can tell by the way that she lifts her hips to me, resting them against the growing bulge in my pants. Sierra twists her hips upwards and moves them side to side, just like a private, slow dance. I push down harder on her, controlling her every move. It’s not that I don’t want her to be pleasured…it’s that I want to tell her when and how to feel it.

  Pressing down on her light frame only seems to make it worse though. She sighs, muttering what sounds like a command in Spanish underneath her breath, as her head cocks up and I have to follow her to her new position. She’s being a little too bold, so I yank her arms down—not hard enough to hurt her, but definitely enough
to make my point—and wrap my left hand gently around her the curve of her neck.

  “You wanna get, off, huh?” I snarl, looking deeply into her eyes. I place the same finger from earlier back in my mouth, wetting it between my lips. I then trace my finger along her tits, circling the nipples gently. “Is that what you want?” I ask, my voice almost a whisper now. I remove my hand from her throat and quickly take her right nipple between my thumb and index finger and twist. She cries out in pleasure and pain, but she doesn’t speak. “Oh, you like that, do you?” I breathe into her ear. “Yeah. You like it. You like it a little rough, don’tcha?” I grab her left nipple and do the same, this time twisting it further. She yelps, and I flash an evil grin. “Yeah. You’re a not that innocent, are you? You must like it rough.”

  She doesn’t say a word, only looks deeply into my eyes, flashing me a look that says come fuck me. But I don’t. I want to take my time with her. Instead, I pull the rest of her dress off, tossing it to the side of the bed in a heap. Her white cotton panties come next, revealing even more of her tanned and toned body.

  Sierra shies away, turning that blush color, as I look over her. Those wide, brown eyes, like deep pools of coffee, dancing with almost amused delight.

  I run my rough hands over her, feeling her shoulders, her tits, her stomach, her legs. I take in every inch. Not a scar or crack on her. No tattoos like the other girls I know. No bruises or needle pricks. She’s as pure as snow and as soft as ice cream. But to my touch, she’s warm enough to swim in. In the dark, I find her calves, slender and muscular, a runner’s calves, and feel the blood rush to my cock as I make my way up the legs towards her sex. My hand finally comes to a rest on her slit. And she breathes, inhaling so loudly I have to stop to look at her.

  I want to ask her if she’s okay, if this is wrong. But she is somewhere off in another world. Her head is fixed up at the sky as her eyes dip upwards. Her teeth bite down on her lips—hard. And her arms are still resting above her as if I managed to freeze her in place. This is my green light, and I’m going for it.

  I bare my teeth, lift her legs up, and slap her somewhat hard on her ass. It’s a shock that brings her to as she cries out, surprised by my force. Her hands move to the pillows above her head as she grabs on.

  I take a deep breath in, smelling her sweet flower. Just like her top half, she isn’t covered in fake scents or shaves. She’s all natural—just as a woman should be. If I could just linger here, that would be enough. But I can tell that we both want—no…need—more. I part the folds of her skin gently with my index and middle fingers. With the other hand, I run my finger down the length of her slit from top to bottom, going from her clit to a spot just above the curve of her ass. To my surprise, she’s wet—sopping wet, inviting me in, practically begging me to fuck her. And Goddamn, do I want to.

  But not yet.

  I return my finger to her slit, rubbing up and down several times, until I feel her engorged clit throbbing, practically begging me to come in and play with it. I find the little nub and begin rubbing. She squeals at my touch and tries to wrestle herself away, but I use my left arm to restrain her by her hips, as my right index and middle fingers rub gently.

  I gradually increase the pressure, feeling her slowly sink into the pleasure. She’s loving it, every second. Her juices increase and the smells transform from something sweet to something wild and unknown; she’s getting close to cumming. She speaks to herself in Spanish and English, words that I can’t make out even if I could translate. I managed to put her in her own little world far away from this bed, this apartment, this life.

  I press down harder on her clit before placing my head between her legs. With one delicious lick between her opening, I feel her tense up. Everything stops for a moment as I feel that sudden release and taste the fluids seeping out of her. She screams out, “Fuuuuuuuuuuck!!!!”

  She’s so loud, I don’t even hear the doorbell, which is ringing out over her cries.

  Sierra pants as she wipes the small spot of sweat that’s formed on her forehead with the back of her hand. The doorbell rings again, and we both hear the loud booms of urgent knocking. She turns up to me and moans, as she says, “Jesus.”

  I push off of her, letting her find the dress and panties. I watch as she runs her hands through her long highlighted hair and sticks it up into a messy ponytail. She doesn’t even bother to look back at me or say anything, but her murmurs are towards whoever is waiting at her door.

  The moment is broken, and I know there’s no going back. Whatever we did back in the bed was just about timing. It wasn’t going to happen again, no matter how hard my cock wanted it to go further. As she leaves the room, I’m not sure if I should follow or wait around. There’s not exactly protocol for finger fucking a girl you just met.

  I hear the muffled pitter-patter of her feet as she runs towards the door. There’s a pause of sound before the door twists open and a thud. She yells loudly, “What the hell are you doing here?!” The frightened sound in her voice makes me stand to attention. I run towards the door and look down the hallway.

  I can just barely see the shadow of a man standing up against the door. He hunches over her as he says, “You don’t answer your door now? That’s not smart, Sierra. Not after today.”

  Her voice waivers, as she replies slowly, deliberately, “I told you, Abe. I didn’t need you to stop by.” She says his name loudly, and I know she’s doing that for my benefit. If he catches me here, it would start a turf war of massive proportions, especially after her roommate’s attack. I listen in as she adds, “And I was sleeping. It’s late, and I’m tired.”

  I watch the black outline of him raise his hand out towards her as he strokes her cheek. She turns her head away, and he recoils. “Fine. I thought I was helping. I thought I was checking on my girl.”

  “I’m not your girl.”

  I choke back a laugh. She’s not just feisty with me, I see. This girl’s got grit.

  He doesn’t miss a beat as he snidely says, “You will be. Soon enough, you will be.”

  And it’s in that moment I know that I will do whatever is in my power to make sure that will never happen.

  Chapter 6: Extra Details

  I watch as Abe turns and walks away. He looks back at me several times, as if I would change my mind and open my arms to him. Who the hell does this guy think he is? I told him I didn’t need him, and yet he still makes up his mind that I am some princess in need of being rescued?

  As I shut my front door, I touch a hand to my face. My body is even burning up over him. At least, I think it’s because of anger. I could be feeling flushed for other reasons, too—like that amazing, out of this world orgasm I just received very unexpectedly.

  I don’t know what I was thinking. I am really not the kind of girl who does this sort of thing. I don’t sleep with someone I just met. I don’t even sleep with people I know really well. It usually takes me at least five really awesome dates for me to go to bed with a guy, and that’s only if he decides to stick around and wait for me.

  But there was something about Tank and how he brought me to bed, touched me so gently, and then managed to still argue with me. No, it was that kiss. That earth-shattering kiss that made my knees go weak and my toes curl into the carpet. I have never been kissed like that before. And the power or magic of it somehow pushed me to lying back on that bed and letting him place his hands all over my naked body.

  I want more. I’m not going to lie to myself about that. If that was just foreplay, the appetizer, I want the whole main course—and I want it now. But I have to be serious with myself. This isn’t right. There is a reason why I didn’t tell Abe that I was entertaining the head of the other top motorcycle club in El Paso. Both of us would have been driven out of town, or worse.

  I’ve seen it happen before. Some girl gets all googly-eyed for this rider on a Harley. He makes her promises that they can overcome it. She believes it and starts to tell everyone she knows that she’s proud to have
“crossed the territories.” But before she can get that ring or even get to home base, everyone in her life has disowned her. If she works with the MC gang, she’s fired. If she lives at home with her parents, she’s kicked out.

  The guy gets it even worse. If she’s a club girl, someone’s daughter or sister or the woman of someone important, he’s punished for tasting forbidden fruit. And it’s not just disowning. That’s the easy part. There are guys that don’t necessarily walk away from this sort of star-crossed romance. Romeo and Juliet have nothing on what it’s like to date the wrong type of club guy.

  I hear Tank clearing his voice from behind me. He hits the light to the living room, and I take a look at him, standing there with a disapproving glare. I may have done something stupid tonight, but I did something stupid with someone incredibly hot. He’s totally different from the college boys I usually date.

  He’s not that skinny, intellectual nerd with the button-down shirt and the occasional cardigan. His thin t-shirt practically clings to his sweaty body, giving me to the outline of his sculpture-esque chest. He’s covered in tattoos, but they’re different. They add to the shape of his muscles, the lines of his neck and hands, and the creamy color of his skin. And that hair. I’ve never seen a motorcycle guy with a mane to match. The brown curls that stick out from the side of his face give him a softer appearance.

 

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