by Tia Siren
Almost exactly two months to the day that Ryan and Jennifer had gone to Tempe, Jennifer’s life changed forever. She was bartending alone on a lazy Tuesday night. It was just about closing time, and the only people left in the bar were two strangers. They were both men in their fifties, bikers with long hair and beards. She guessed they were passing through; they wore vests with a snake and knife logo she was unfamiliar with.
“You guys drink up; I’m about to lock up,” she said.
“All right,” one man said, draining his beer and standing up from the bar.
“I’ll catch you in a minute,” the other man said; he still had half a beer to go. His friend left some money on the bar and headed out. Jennifer smiled at the man who remained.
“Where you from?” she asked.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” the man said, and then he grinned. It was predatory, his teeth white and gleaming. “But there is something I would like to do.”
“Sorry, I don’t think so,” Jennifer said, and the man made her so uncomfortable that her heart started beating fast as adrenaline pumped through her.
“I don’t think I made myself clear,” the man said. “I wasn’t planning on giving you a fucking choice.”
“Why don’t you call it a night,” Jennifer said, backing up from the bar. The man leaned forward, darting like a coiled snake, and took hold of her arm. He wrenched her toward him, toward the bar, as she screamed. Her stomach hit the edge of the bar and the wind was knocked right out of her. Her scream fell short as she gasped for breath. He kept pulling, and before she could stop herself, Jennifer was on the bar, being dragged across it. Once across, the man forced her to the floor, and the petite girl could do nothing but cry.
When it was over, she was left bloody and crying on the floor, her shirt torn, her jeans down around her ankles. The man left after splashing his cum across her stomach. He threw the money he owed her for his beers on top of her, some of it falling into the salty mess. Jennifer didn’t move; she didn’t even watch him leave. After he was gone, she still didn’t dare move, even when her cell phone began ringing from the spot behind the bar where she always kept it. It was Barbara, she guessed. It was past time to pick Jaxson up. Finally, after gaining control of her tears, Jennifer got up.
4
Jennifer had called Barbara, told her what had happened. The old woman had told her to call the police, but Jennifer had something else in mind. At four in the morning, she was standing in front of a small house with a grungy, unkempt yard, knocking on the door. It took some time, but finally the door opened.
“What are you doing here?” Rocky asked her. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead she started crying again. The young biker took her inside, and she sat on his couch and told him everything.
“I’ll kill the asshole,” Rocky said. He reached over and pressed his hand to her knee. She flinched.
“Relax,” he said. “I’ll handle it.”
That was all he said, and Jennifer knew that he would handle it. She left, got her son, and went home. She didn’t know what Rocky was going to do, and she didn’t want to know.
She tried to put the situation out of her mind over the next week and a half, but she was assaulted by unending nightmares every night.
She took some time off from the bar, putting trust in her employees. One night she had just gotten her son to sleep when there was a sharp knock on her door. She opened it without thinking and was surprised to see her rapist standing there on her porch. He had a black eye and a cut on his forehead.
“You bitch,” he said. She didn’t let him finish; she slammed the door shut.
“Your boyfriend won’t save you now!” the man yelled, mistaking Rocky for her significant other. She ran for her phone as her son came out of his room.
“Mommy, what’s wrong?” he asked as the man outside began to pound on the door.
“Go into your room; lock the door!” Jennifer yelled at her poor confused child. He rushed to do as he was told, and she got Rocky on the phone. He only lived a few minutes away, and even as she was talking to him on his cell, she heard his bike roar to life.
She thought then of Ryan. She hadn’t been seeing him much, hadn’t been speaking to him. The sexual assault had changed her somehow. He wasn’t a man who could protect her. She liked him, but if she had gone to him, he never would have been able to help her. Not like Rocky could.
She heard Rocky’s bike roaring down the road, and the pounding on the door quit. Minutes later there was a knock, and Rocky was there. She told him about the man with the black eye, and Rocky searched her property. The man was gone.
Jennifer got her son back into bed to sleep, and when she returned to the living room, Rocky was still there.
“You don’t have to stay,” she said.
“I will,” he replied.
She nodded, and then they sat on her couch and she curled up beside him. He kept an arm around her the whole night.
When Jennifer awoke, light was filtering in through her living room windows and Rocky was looking down upon her. He smiled and kissed her suddenly.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Jennifer asked, pushing him away and standing up quickly.
“I stayed here all night!” Rocky said, surprised.
“So what, I should kiss you?”
“At least!” Rocky said.
“Do you know what that guy did to me?”
“That’s different,” Rocky said. “You want to fuck me.”
“Get out!” Jennifer yelled, trying not to wake up her son but unable to help it. Rocky stood.
“I can’t believe this. Blue balls for this shit? You owe me,” he said, and then he left.
Jennifer sat on her couch, her heart pounding. She couldn’t believe what the biker had been thinking. Even worse, she didn’t know why her loins had begun to stir when he’d kissed her. She wanted him. She always had. But…she wasn’t ready. He was a bad boy. He would be rough with her. She didn’t need that. She needed Ryan.
When she got Jaxson to school, she called Ryan. He agreed to come over on his lunch break. She told him why she had been distant, what had happened. He held her. She kissed him. They made love. Afterward they lay together. He had been gentle, caring, sweet and tender. It had been what she’d needed, but it made her realize Ryan wasn’t the man she needed. Why couldn’t he look and act like Rocky but make love to her like he did? Couldn’t a good guy be a little bad? Or a bad guy be a little tender? Was that too much to ask for?
Ryan went back to work, and Jennifer knew she was going to break up with him. She needed a man who could keep her safe. She knew Ryan couldn’t. Sex had been the furthest thing from her mind as of late, but safety had been forefront in her mind. Somehow the two were mixing.
Jennifer didn’t like confrontation, something she had picked up by dating assholes. They were short tempered, and confrontation always led to fights, so she almost called Ryan when she knew he would be home from work. But she felt as though she owed the man more, so she went to see him after dropping Jaxson off with Barbara.
“Hey, hon,” Ryan said when he opened the door, but he must have seen something in her face, because he sighed. “Uh-oh.”
“How’d you know?”
“Go check in the mirror,” Ryan said glumly.
“Listen, it’s not going to work.”
“This afternoon…” Ryan said, but he trailed off, his words hanging in the air between them.
“I know,” Jennifer said. “You’re the best guy I’ve ever dated,” she added. “That’s no joke. I’m being serious.”
“Then why would it not work?”
“Maybe I’m not good enough,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re too good.”
“I’m too good to date?”
Jennifer sighed. “This is hard, all right, Ryan? Thank you for everything. You’re really something else, in a good way. You’re different than any man I’ve known.”
“I can give yo
u time,” Ryan said. “I know what happened, and this afternoon, maybe we shouldn’t have, but you started it. I would wait; I will wait.”
“I don’t think you could keep me safe from that monster,” Jennifer finally said truthfully. “Maybe I need a monster of my own.”
And with that, she left the man, his mouth hanging open behind her, as though he were about to say something else. She didn’t give him the chance.
5
Finally, almost three weeks after she had been raped on the bar floor, Jennifer returned to Chuck’s. Brittany was behind the bar when she got there, and Andre was in the kitchen. He hugged her when he saw her.
“If I would have been here,” he started, but Jennifer smiled and shook her head.
“I know,” she said. “How’s the baby?”
Andre grinned. His wife had given birth less than two weeks before. “Fit as a fiddle,” he said. “You got to come by and see him, all right?”
“I will,” Jennifer said, and she went out behind the bar. Brittany gave her a hug too, but the younger woman didn’t know what to say, so she stayed quiet. Rose was at the bar, and she slid a shot across to Jennifer.
“On me, kiddo,” she said, and Jennifer took it, slamming the empty glass down on the bar when she was done. Her throat burned, but she started to laugh.
That night Rocky came in with a couple of his biker club pals. He paid Jennifer no mind, and she thought it would stay that way, but just after midnight he approached the bar and leaned against it.
“Can I talk to you?” he said.
“I’m a little busy.”
“No you ain’t. Come talk to me,” he said, and he reached for her hand.
“Out back,” she said with a sigh, not taking his hand, and then she disappeared into the kitchen, heading for the back door. Rocky went out the front and walked around the building.
“What?” Jennifer asked when she saw him. She was leaning against the wall next to the back door.
“I wanted to say sorry,” the biker said. “I was being an asshole.”
“You think?”
“I’m trying to apologize,” Rocky said, and she softened.
“All right,” Jennifer said. “I do appreciate what you did for me.”
“I would do anything for you,” Rocky said, and then he laughed. “Good lord, I sound like that dork you’re dating.”
Jennifer laughed and shook her head. “I broke up with him a couple of days ago.”
“How come?”
Jennifer paused for a moment, and then she shrugged. “He wasn’t you.”
Rocky tilted his head to the side and raised a brow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m an all right guy, you know,” he said. Jennifer laughed.
“No, you aren’t. How many times have you gone to prison?”
“I’m an all right guy for having gone to prison a couple of times.”
“You ever killed a man?”
“No,” Rocky said. “But the night’s young. I will kill that asshole when I find him. He might be long gone, though; they were heading out when I found him the first time.”
“Good riddance,” Jennifer said. “Let him go.”
“What if he comes back?”
“You better be there to protect me,” she said with a grin. Rocky stepped forward and they kissed.
He hung around Chuck’s that night and then followed her home on his bike. She asked Barb to keep Jaxson overnight, and then they went into the bedroom.
“Be gentle,” Jennifer said, as Rocky pulled his shirt over his head. “Can you?”
“Of course I can,” Rocky said, and then they were kissing again. He broke the kiss long enough to pull her shirt up and over her head, and then he was touching her back, his fingers moving up and down her spine, making her skin tingle. His touch was light and soft though his hands were that of a man’s, hard and calloused. She put her hands on his chest, felt his firm muscles there, and a warmth flowed through her crotch, soaking her panties.
Their kisses were tender and slow; their tongues danced together. Slowly they lay upon the bed, Rocky holding himself over her. She reached down, pulled off his belt, and unzipped his pants. He wriggled out of them, clad then in just his boxer shorts. Her fingers found their way through the flap at the front and wrapped around his member, half hard then, but growing rigid against her palm and fingers.
He tasted of beer and cigarettes, and Jennifer knew she was with the right man.
He got her bra off, and his eager lips found her nipples, but she could tell he was taking it slow, being gentle, and it meant so much to her. She smiled with her eyes closed and moaned in his ear. “Fuck me hard,” she said.
“Thank god,” Rocky said. He ripped her panties down her legs, tossing them over the edge of the bed. His kisses on her breasts became bites, piercing nibbles on and around her nipples that soaked her pussy even more. He had a hand down there, two of his fingers working in and out of her, the pad of his thumb grinding gently against her clit.
“Fuck me,” she moaned, and he did so. He pushed inside her, working at a furious pace, their skin slapping together, her juices flowing. Her breathing grew labored, and he knew she was about to come, so Rocky leaned back, still fucking her but reaching down and rubbing her clit.
“Shit!” Jennifer yelled as an orgasm rocked her, his massive cock thudding in and out of her tight pussy as it contracted around him. When she had come, he pulled out of her, standing and bending over to pick her up. He tossed her over his shoulder, her juices leaking from her snatch and running down her legs and onto his arms. They went to the living room like that, and he sat down in a chair next to the TV and he pulled her into his lap, facing away from him.
Jennifer braced herself with her hands on the arms of the chair and her feet on the carpet, her legs together as she sat on his cock. It pushed into her tight snatch, and she brought herself back up and then slammed down, riding him at a furious pace. He reached up and pulled her hair, yanking her head back until she screamed. His other hand slapped her ass, big and round and bouncing on his lap.
“Fuck me,” she screamed, over and over until he pushed her off him and then down to her knees. He stepped in front of her, and she opened her mouth so he could fuck her face. He held her head still, letting his hips control the pace. She was choking; her eyes burned as tears slid down her cheeks.
“Jerk me off onto your face,” he commanded, and Jennifer was being used once more. But the fact that he had been willing to be gentle, to go slow, it meant she was fine with it. She wanted him to use her for that; a woman should be used in the bedroom, at least sometimes. And sometimes a man should be used. Rocky was a man who was willing to go both ways. One wasn’t better than the other. She gripped him in her hand and jerked him until he came, his thick white come sloshing across her lips, her face, and up into her hair. When he was done, she smiled. She knew it was the beginning of a wonderful relationship.
*****
THE END
MOTORCYCLE Romance – Outlaw Biker’s Baby
1
The young woman looked over the bike. She put her hand on her chin, the way she remembered her father doing when she went with him to used car lots. He was a car guy; he loved buying old beat-up ones, working on them for months at a time, and then selling them for huge gains. She stroked her chin though she obviously didn’t have a beard the way her cuddly bear of a father had.
Her name was Vanessa Keller, and her father had been dead for ten years by the time she was staring at the Harley at age twenty-two. His name had been George Keller, and from the time her mother passed away when she was two, it had been just the two of them until he died. Mother dead as a toddler, father dead at twelve, and then she had gone to live with Aunt Kathy out in Utah.
She hated Utah. It was too hot, too dusty, too boring. Well, mostly boring. From a young age and through her teen years, Vanessa had found one thing she loved about Harrington, Utah, the small town her aunt lived in
: A massive biker gang, one of the largest in Utah, was headquartered in Harrington. They were the Pythons, and the men in the biker gang all wore vests or jackets with an insignia stitched onto the back, a massive green snake coiled around a skeleton.
There were no women in the club proper, though each man always seemed to have one on the back of his bike, thick girls with massive breasts and fat asses, long blond hair, and as many tattoos as the men had.
Vanessa didn’t look like that, not as a teenager and not as a young woman. She was taller, thinner. She had rounded feminine hips and a taut ass, but it wasn’t big. Her breasts were perky, perfectly formed, but she didn’t bust through her bras the way the biker chicks all seemed too.
She was beautiful, though. Her face was angular, perfect, her lips plump, her eyes a soft blue. She’d had a long string of boyfriends throughout school, but she always went for the bad boys, and things ended badly.
Yet still she was missing something. Those boys, the bad boys of high school, they weren’t bad enough. She had a thing for the bikers she saw all over town. Not the old ones, of course, the fat guys with their big white beards—she liked the young ones, thin and tanned, with hard eyes and harder muscles. That was what she wanted.
When she graduated, Vanessa had planned on moving far away, but something had stopped her. Instead, she went to a local college and got a degree in creative writing. She had always loved writing. She lived with her aunt while she went to school, commuting to the small campus every day. And then she graduated, and she didn’t know what to do.
She wanted to write, to be a writer, but she didn’t know what. She felt as though she had stories within her, stories she wanted to tell, but how to get started?
She wrote short stories and sent them into magazines and websites. Most were rejected, but some were published. Still, it wasn’t enough to live on. Aunt Kathy had always loved her and taken care of her, but Vanessa could tell her aunt would be happier if, now after college, she found her own place. Aunt Kathy had been married once, but divorced since before Vanessa’s father passed away. She dated off and on but had grown to enjoy a solitary lifestyle. She had no kids of her own and liked it that way. Vanessa sat down with the older woman and told her she would be getting a job and moving out. They hugged, and Vanessa felt a bit sad. She could feel the relief flowing off her aunt.
