The Outlaw Biker's Betrayal: A Bad Boy MC Romance

by Sienna Wiliiams

  To her immense relief, though, the jobs Russell had her doing were everything she was comfortable with. She prepared the meals, which she loved doing because she loved to cook. She cleaned the house, which was fine because she liked living in a clean house, and both Russell and Raymond seemed to be tidy people. She also ran errands, now, into town.

  “It will give me the opportunity to ride my new bicycle,” she said. Because she didn’t have a driver’s license, and because, Russell had explained, he didn’t want her to feel either trapped in the house or like she had to ask him for permission to go somewhere, he had gotten her a bicycle that was, according to him, top of the line.

  “It’s easier to handle than my truck,” he’d said as he showed it off to her on her first full day at the ranch.

  “Would you like some coffee?” he asked. He stood up and decreased the space between them. Since picking her up at the airport, he had neither kissed her nor made mention of the bride portion of their mail order bride relationship. She knew that he was attracted to her. Even in the small movements he made, like standing so close to her, she could feel energy emanating from him and knew that he was drawn to her. She bit her lip, longing to reach out and touch his arm, his face, even to lean in and kiss him, but she didn’t. She also didn’t move away. He looked into her eyes, stared down at her with the nearly six inches of height he had on her, and winked. Then, he slid past her and got a coffee mug from the cabinet.

  “Let me get that,” she said, moving toward the coffee pot.

  “Stop,” he said. “Sit.”

  She smiled at his short commands, and she took a seat at the kitchen table. She had prepared three evening meals for Randall and Raymond in her time there, yet she’d not sat at the table with them during the meal.

  That was about to change.

  Later that day, she returned to the house from her short trip into town. The town was small; it was primarily a ranchers’ town with a small general store, a gas station, and a bar. Svetlana hadn’t known exactly what to expect from a Montana town, but this nameless spot on the map was a surprise even to her. In spite of the sparse town, the view beyond was breathtaking. On her bike, Svetlana took her time traveling. She breathed the fresh, mountain air deep into her lungs and nearly fell off her bike three times getting distracted by the landscape all around her.

  When she parked her bike and carried the groceries into the house, she immediately set to making dinner, a meal that was new to her: seared steaks, mashed potatoes, and cooked carrots. She also, as a surprise, bought the ingredients to make fresh bread, which she intended to serve for breakfast the next morning.

  At exactly six o’clock, Russell walked through the door. He didn’t speak to Svetlana and she didn’t expect him to. After working all day, he would go immediately into his bathroom, in the loft upstairs, and shower. At a quarter past six, he would go to the living room with a bottle of beer and watch the news from Billings. At six thirty, he would come into the kitchen for dinner. Svetlana found comfort already in this routine. She had timed the dinner perfectly and had two plates sitting on the table when Russell walked into the kitchen, tossing his beer bottle into the trash.

  “Where’s Raymond?” Svetlana asked. “Is he not coming to dinner?”

  “He had other plans tonight,” Russell said. He stood behind the chair where Raymond normally sat and then pulled it out from the table. “Will you join me for dinner?”

  Svetlana felt a flush rise in her cheeks as a surprising surge of arousal moved through her. She looked around the kitchen, feeling suddenly as though she might have left the stove lit, or something in the oven that would burn.

  “I…”

  “Please,” Russell said. He smiled at her with a look of intimacy that struck Svetlana at her core. She felt as if she floated across the floor and into the seat that awaited her. Russell pushed her back in toward the table and sat beside her.

  “Tell me about your life in Russia,” he said.

  As Svetlana talked, she noticed that Russell had, while he’d cleaned up from work, shaved and put on cologne. He smelled delicious, fresh. She watched him watch her, watched his eyes, expressive and kind. He asked questions that showed he was listening to her and she grew comfortable with him. So comfortable that she very nearly forgot where she was. She took a small bite of potatoes and, when she looked up, he was staring at her.

  “What?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”

  He smiled. “No, Svetlana, everything is fine. You were speaking Russian, is all, and I couldn’t understand you.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth and she felt the blush move from her chest up her cheeks and into her ears.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize.”

  He reached out and wrapped his fingers around the outside edge of her hand, slowly pulling it down back toward the table.

  “Don’t apologize,” he said. “Your language is lovely.”

  “Do you like the dinner?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

  “I like the dinner; I love the company.”

  She smiled. She felt bad, but she was relieved that Raymond had made other plans for the night. When she served dessert, Russell suggested they eat it in the living room. They sat on the couch together, eating the cookies and crème pie Svetlana had picked up at the general store.

  “Would you like to watch a movie?” Russell asked after they had cleared the dishes. Russell wiped the table while Svetlana did the dishes.

  “If you want to watch one,” Svetlana said, “I would love to.”

  When they returned to the couch, Russell listed off three movies he had on DVD, and she picked the one that sounded the most action-packed. She loved action movies and, unlike most of her friends, hated the cliché romantic comedy.

  The strains of the James Bond movie began, and Russell reached for Svetlana’s hand. It was then that she put everything together: this had been her first official date with her future husband.

  Chapter Three

  “You need to go into town and get a costume sometime this week,” Raymond said to Svetlana, smirking in a good-natured way. “We’re having a party and it’s costumes required.” Svetlana had to be careful when she was in conversation with Raymond. He looked strikingly similar to Russell, but his personality was completely different. As warm and friendly as Russell was, Raymond was cold and aloof. He was silent, working later hours than Russell and rising earlier.

  “What sort of costume should I get?” she asked.

  “If we were anywhere but this town, I’d say the sexier the better. But, since your only choice is whatever is hanging in the general store, I’ll say get whatever fits best. Or, maybe one size smaller.” He glanced at her breasts and Svetlana flushed. Another difference between Russell and Raymond was their boldness. Russell was smooth and indirect; Raymond, while he had never hit on Svetlana, always let her know, one way or another, that he appreciated all of her assets. Surprisingly, he was able to do it in a way where Svetlana felt flattered, not cheap.

  “Whatever fits,” she repeated, smiling. “Got it.”

  She took the afternoon to go to town on her bicycle and look at costumes. Raymond was right; the selection of adult costumes was extremely small. Of course there were the standards: vampire, political masks, pairs of ears and tails… and the standard costumes for women: nurse, bar maid, private school student, and, to Svetlana’s amusement, a maid costume consisting of a small black dress with a white apron. She tried on the maid outfit and it was more than one size too small; she couldn’t even zip it.

  “Try the nurse,” the woman behind the counter, the wife of the store owner, said, nodding at the costume rack. “I think it’ll fit you; it’s a size ten.”

  Svetlana took the costume to the bathroom and tried it on. It was tight, but, looking in the bathroom mirror and turning side to side, she imagined it was the kind of tight Russell might appreciate seeing on her. She stepped back out into the store to get the woman’s opinion. She
opened the door and a customer, a man picking up hot dogs, whistled.

  “I guess that’s the one, honey,” the owner’s wife said.

  “I guess it is,” Svetlana said. And she had bought it with the credit card Russell had given her. She bought a few more items and then packed everything into her bike.

  When she got home, she had some time before she needed to make dinner, and she decided to try the costume on once again. In her bedroom, she turned to look at herself from every angle in the full length mirror. The costume consisted of a plain white dress with pockets, a cardboard cap, and white, sheer stockings. She had a pair of white high heels that she thought would work, though they didn’t resemble the shoes the woman wore in the picture of the costume even remotely.

  “Svetlana!” Russell called from the kitchen. “Can you come here?”

  “Um, sure,” she said. “Hold on just a sec…” She looked at her clothes on the bed and wondered if she had time to change. She shook her head, glanced at herself in the mirror once again, and stepped out of her room into the kitchen.

  “Whoa,” Russell said. He stood with the refrigerator door open and a bottle of milk in his hand. “Hello, nurse!” He grinned.

  “I’m not a nurse,” Svetlana said. “I’m still just me.”

  “Is that what you’re wearing Friday?” he asked.

  “If it’s okay?” she asked. She held her hands out and asked with her eyes.

  “Hmmm…” Russell said. “Let’s see. Why don’t you turn around.” Svetlana turned, once again feeling Russell’s eyes on her. “Yeah, I’d say that’s just fine. You better go take it off before it gets dirty. Raymond will be here for dinner tonight. You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like.”

  Svetlana changed her clothes and prepared dinner. Tonight’s was an easier meal of chicken, baked potatoes, and green beans. She had researched various recipes on line and found a new way to prepare the chicken that she hadn’t done before. She began to prepare the meal and fell into the rhythm of moving around the kitchen, a rhythm she found soothing. She was surprised that she didn’t miss Russia. Not Russia, exactly, but the people in it. Her friends and family. There was something so home-like, so comforting, about her new life with Russell, she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

  When Russell and Raymond came in for dinner, Svetlana disappeared into her room. She wanted to read a book she’d picked up at the general store. It was a book in English, and she had decided to challenge herself by reading at least one book in English each week. As she read, lying on her bed propped up by pillows, she heard the sounds of Russell and Raymond eating their evening meal, talking about their day. Their voices were so similar it was possible to distinguish them only by the context of what they were talking about. Since it was nearing winter, the brothers were discussing whether or not they had any final preparations that still needed to be taken care of for the animals for winter.

  “I’d like to take some time away,” Russell said. “A week or so, sometime during November.”

  “I don’t think that will be a problem,” Raymond said around a mouthful of food.

  After dinner, Svetlana heard the dishes being cleared, but she didn’t move. She knew that, after dinner, the men would retire to the living room and she would be able to clean the kitchen without interruption.

  She eyed her costume hanging in the closet and wondered if there was anything else she needed to get for it. She had never been to an American hospital, of course, so the knowledge she had of American nurses came from movies and what she had seen online.

  She got off of her bed and put the costume on once again. She stood in front of her mirror and admired herself; the costume’s fit was very flattering. Her breasts pressed up and against the fabric, and the waist cinched in to show her hourglass figure better than her normal day to day clothes.

  There was a knock on her door.

  “Come in,” she said, turning away from the mirror.

  “Svetlana, I—” Russell began to speak, but, when he saw her in her costume, he stopped.

  “Hi,” she said softly.

  “Hi,” he said.

  She turned to face him, feeling heat rise in her body as she moved. He, like the other night, appeared to have taken special care as he’d showered after work. She could smell his fresh, light cologne and it added to her interest.

  He walked in and, without speaking, took her in his arms and kissed her. Her surprise at his movements was quickly replaced with arousal as his hot lips touched hers. His lips were both soft and firm at the same time, and, as he pressed against her, she felt an equal push and pull, the pressure from his lips and his hands holding her in place against him. His body was hard, his broad chest a place for her to stabilize and collapse against, which she did. After a moment, his lips still exploring hers, she put her hands on his chest. He groaned and pulled her in closer, spurred by her response.

  He stroked her hair and tugged it gently, a gesture which sent an immediate bolt of electricity through her core to the space between her legs which felt more alive than it had ever been before. Svetlana had been with men; she’d had boyfriends in Russia and had nearly been engaged once, but she’d never felt like this. She responded as Russell’s tongue began to gently explore her mouth, meeting his with her own.

  He laid her gently on the bed and, wordlessly, began to unbutton the top of her costume. Her breasts bounced free, exposing the black lace bra she had left on underneath. He stroked the fabric and pulled out of kissing her to take a moment to look her over. She watched appreciation shine in his eyes as he took her in, her breasts, her brunette hair cascading over her shoulders, the drawing in of her waist and the explosion of her hips.

  “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he said. “How did I get so lucky?”

  “You asked for me,” she replied simply, “and I came.”

  “I want to make you cum all the time,” he growled. “I’ve been trying to be good, but I can’t keep my hands off of you anymore.”

  “I don’t want you to,” she said, and pulled his face back toward hers, kissing him. His lips on hers felt like the clicking of a puzzle piece into place: right and perfect.

  He pulled off his shirt and laid against her, his warm chest pressing against her breasts. Her nipples hardened against his touch, and she felt energy spread through her entire body. His legs, clad still in his jeans, worked her legs open, the nurse skirt climbing up as her legs spread apart.

  “I guess I picked the right costume,” she said, smiling.

  “Um, yeah, it looks pretty good on you,” Russell said with a teasing tone. He continued to unbutton her outfit and she felt the fabric release as it opened, revealing her black satin panties. He put his hands on her hips, the pressure and warmth of his palms sending a wave of pleasure through her. She knew she was wet; she could feel it against her panties. She waited for Russell to discover this, which he did almost immediately. He ran his fingers over the front of her panties, feeling her pussy as she slid out of her costume. She knew it would wrinkle beneath her, but she didn’t care. She spread her legs wider as Russell slid the crotch of her panties to the side and began to explore her wetness with his fingers. He smiled and licked his lips, then pulled her panties down, giving her a moment to pull them off. He took advantage of her angle and put her right leg over his shoulder and began to kiss her inner thigh. She trembled beneath his touch, feeling a literal burning desire for him.

  She groaned, and he moved his tongue to the space between her legs. Running the tip of his tongue along her slit, he gently opened her labia and spread her lips wide with his fingers. He found her clit with his tongue and began to suck it gently as he slid two fingers into her. She lifted her hips toward him and he reached for her left leg, bringing it over his shoulder to match her right.

  “You taste so good,” he whispered. She put her hands on his shoulders, desiring a deeper connection to him.

  “I want to feel you inside me,” she said, and he looked up at he
r. His lips glistened with her arousal, and she pulled him up to kiss her. She tasted her saltiness, his lips malleable and warm against hers.

  He pulled back for a moment and yanked his jeans off. She caught a glimpse of his cock, long and hard, seemingly pulsing with its own energy and alertness. She moved her legs apart once again and took him inside her. He was huge, the biggest she’d ever been with, and she felt her vagina open wider to accommodate his size. It was a sense of sharp pleasure, of pain that felt so incredibly good she could hardly bear it.

  He began to thrust inside her, slowly at first, then gaining speed. She constricted her vaginal muscles around his shaft and he groaned.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “None of your business,” she flirted sweetly, clinching his shaft as he pulled out of her. When he entered her again, her muscles were still constricted, giving his cock a tight sleeve to enter, and he groaned again.

  Each time he thrust, his pubic bone rubbed her clit. She felt herself rising to her orgasm with each thrust. She savored the moments of her pre-climax, feeling the dizzying rush of adrenaline as her body savored each thrust, each attentive stroke, until she finally pushed over the edge.

  “Oh God!” she cried out, grabbing Russell around his neck and shoulders and pulling him toward her. Russell took his cue and let himself go inside of her. They moaned together as he spent himself, each finishing in a moment of breathless exhaustion.

  He rolled off of her and lay beside her, panting. She reached for him and he held her hand, interlacing his fingers through her own.