The Bare Bones (The Bare Bones MC)

by Wolfe, Layla

  He was still breathing heavily from the beatdown he’d administered to that jackoff in the hangar. It always riled all of his senses to the utmost to take his anger out physically on someone. He got a strange high, probably of adrenaline and testosterone, that was almost better than anything.

  And he probably panted a little from the shock of seeing his best friend making out with another man.

  But all that stuff was peripheral right now.

  Right now, Ford pressed his forehead against Maddy’s while tearing off his cut. Normally he liked to fuck with it on. It gave a sense of authority and edge to his fucking. Today, he wanted to feel her skin against his as he ruthlessly assaulted her.

  Throwing the cut into another sink, he said, “Maddy. You’re mine. I fucking mean it. You belong to me. No more of this fucking around, this back and forth.”

  Her eyes were big and pleading, like those paintings of the large-eyed kids that were supposed to be haunting but were just plain creepy. “I know,” she cried, flinging her arms around his neck.

  The day was just full of surprises.

  Already she had one high heel lodged in his back jean pocket and she was peppering his face with tiny sucking kisses.

  She knows? When did she make this one eighty?

  Maybe she didn’t really know. Ford stripped off his black T-shirt while telling her, “It means you can’t fuck anyone else, Maddy. It means your fucking heart belongs to me and no one else.”

  As much as he loved showing off his carved torso—he saw her finally admiring the pictograph of the Apache hunter he’d had inked under his nipple after he’d said goodbye to his mother—he had to grab Maddy forcibly by the jaw to get her to see reason.

  He wasn’t going to play this back and forth game anymore. Either she agreed with him, or she didn’t. If she didn’t, he’d just have to force himself on her, because he was going to finally, seriously mount her anyway.

  “I mean it, Maddy. Do you understand what this fucking means? It means you’re my property, part of my tribe.” He’d been calling his club a “tribe” lately, too.

  “Yes,” she cried breathlessly. “I want to be yours, Ford. I can’t tell you why I left Cottonwood twelve years ago, I really can’t. You have to trust me it was nothing you did wrong. I love the man, and I can learn to love the club.”

  She loved him. That was good enough for Ford, and he slid his tongue down her throat while tearing her dress asunder at the collar. He was consumed by a wild combination of lust and anger—anger at her for having left twelve years ago and having told him no two months ago. His pride wouldn’t let him forget that, so he mauled her with urgency and more than a little bad temper.

  He just wanted to ram it inside her and shoot his load. He lapped away at the bottom of her tongue, at last able to slide his hands inside the big cups of that teasing push-up bra. The way she mewled when he tweaked her bullet-like nipples riled him even higher. Her little hands scrabbled at his Bare Bones buckle. She gave up and just wrapped her arms around his naked back, pressing him to her. The barbell that pierced his nipple twisted, sending erotic arrows straight into his groin, and he practically tore his sturdy leather belt ripping it open.

  They came up for air, panting against each other’s mouths as Ford unsheathed his throbbing dick. His low-slung jeans immediately dropped to his boots. He’d been waiting for this pussy for so long and had tasted it in so many daydreams and nightmares, it was incredible that he was finally mashing her big, fat tittie in his hand, was scouring his bulging cockhead against her slick pussy lips. It was never an option to don a rubber, although of course he had one in his back pocket.

  “I mean it, Maddy. This cunt is mine. These lips are mine. These tits are mine. No one else’s.” To punctuate his point, Ford pulled back slightly and slapped her tit. Her eyes popped open with surprise, but she didn’t protest, and he slapped her tittie again. She gave little jumps, little arches of her back like a cat on an electric fence, every time he slapped her, so he kept doing it.

  She shook her head tauntingly, probably knowing her hair would bounce around her shoulders, accentuating her uplifted boobs. “All yours, Ford. No kidding. I want your big dick inside of me.”

  “And this pussy? All mine.” Ford drew back even farther so his erection stood out at a right angle to his body, knowing how impressive it was. He slapped her cunt and it made a satisfying, wet sound. “This pussy belongs to me.”

  Again, she jumped and twitched every time he slapped her trim. She was arched erotically, her titties jutting out as though posing for an X-rated sign. His slapping seemed to be arousing her, so he kept it up, a pattering of wet smacks, each one making her jump and climb the wall a bit higher. Her eyes became bigger, moister, more pleading with each slap, until she gasped.

  “Please, Ford! Just do me! You know what I want. I’ve been waiting longer than you have.”

  Ford locked eyes with her as he impaled her on his hungry cock.

  He sank far into her with a low, beastly groan while the vocalist onstage wailed about iron hooves and steel horns. Already, bitches were pounding on the flimsy bathroom door, and Ford had to holler like an unholy guardian of Hell.

  “Keep your fucking pants on, bitches!”

  They heard his voice, and shut the fuck up.

  When he turned back to Madison her eyeballs had rolled up into her head. She seemed to be praying as her tight pussy clenched his cock. One of her arms was flung above her head, gripping the sink faucet. The faucet wobbled so loosely he thought she might tear it out.

  A sudden fury overcame him when he saw his blood-caked hand slapping her undulating boob. He started fucking her so furiously that with each stroke her head banged against the wall. He wanted to pound his frustrations away inside of her. Each precision swivel of his hips, each stab of his pulsating dick inside the clenching maw of her cunt, each angry thrust brought him closer to some sort of absolution.

  He needed to forgive her. He couldn’t love freely while holding a grudge for past wrongs.

  He stopped slapping her and she started moaning. She made long, drawn-out caterwauls like a midnight tomcat on the prowl. She unfurled her spine and wrenched the faucet, and the more the cold water spilled over the jiggling mounds of her tits and down the valley in between, the harder Ford fucked her. The coldness swirled around the root of his dick and cooled his balls, and he fucked her so desperately his stabs sent water splashing onto his face.

  “Fuck me, Ford,” she gritted out between clenched teeth. “I want to feel your big cock exploding deep inside me. I want to feel you as close to me as possible. I want to feel your long, thick penis ejaculate up against my womb.”

  That really got to him, her saying “penis” and “womb.” It sounded dirtier, in a way, than any cocks or pricks. He just didn’t hear talk like that around the Citadel.

  It made him pause, panting down on her. She looked so vulnerable lying there with one arm twined around the running faucet. The stream of water chilled his sac, which had retracted close to his body in preparation for a monumental orgasm.

  Ford was into orgasm denial, usually for the woman. His prick twitched with a thousand electric shocks as he held it still inside Madison’s searing heat. Usually the longer he held it, the more exquisite the orgasm. But if he held it too long, that perfect moment would pass.

  He heard himself say roughly, “’At the bottom of every frozen heart there is a drop or two of love—just enough to feed the birds.’”

  Recognition washed over her face. Maybe she’d read the words of his favorite writer way back when, and actually remembered them. He supposed he was trying to express his love for her without actually saying it.

  She had no such compunctions. Smiling, she ran her palm over his steamy chest. “I love you, Ford.”

  He went off instantly, just as she’d requested. Surge after surge wrenched his balls as he spurted deep against her womb. He didn’t know it was possible but each spasm seemed more blissful than the last
, and he had to hold his breath and squeeze his eyes shut to contain it all.

  When he finally came to and his eyes popped open, Madison had raised her torso off the sink. Water harmlessly splashed down her arm, dripping off her elbow and into the basin. The lap of her khaki dress was hopelessly drenched in a much darker shade. But her face was bright and perky, as though she’d just been out in a spring rainstorm.

  “Oh my God,” she panted, as though seeing him for the first time. She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss.

  She deepened the kiss, putting her all into it. With her heels still wrapped around the back of his bare ass, she squeezed his pulsating cock with her strong inner pussy muscles. It reminded Ford how strongly she had come when he’d given her that skull job in the hospital. That in turn reminded him of the hole Cropper had drilled in the wall of the Cottonwood bathroom. How nauseated he’d been to discover that, and not until Madison had already vanished from the house. He had wondered if discovery of the peephole had anything to do with her leaving. He couldn’t bring it up to her, though, without mentioning the hole’s existence.

  There was a commotion outside, a few women rapping against the metal side of the trailer. “Come on!” one yelled. “We don’t want to use the men’s!”

  “Yeah!” yelled another. “The men’s is too gross!”

  Ford smiled against Madison’s mouth and stood up. He helped Madison to stand, turning his back when she went into a stall. He washed his bloody hand finally, almost sorry to see the signs of his victory swirl down the sink.

  He was the knight in shining armor, saving Madison from those motherfuckers.

  He slipped his cut back on over his bare skin, sticking the black T-shirt in his back pocket. The top buttons of Madison’s dress were hopelessly strewn over the filthy flood, but Ford gallantly picked them up and pocketed them. He was proud of her fat, jutting tits that burst from the gap in her dress, but he wanted a way to mark her as his.

  He arranged her dress as though preparing a kid for school. “Come on. Let’s get some fish. Tuzigoot cooked up some mean catfish and cod.” He knew she loved fish.

  When Ford finally unlocked the trailer door and threw it open, he was surprised by the crowd of women. At least fifty were waiting, although he knew there were some port-a-potties to one side of the stage. The women burst into cheers and catcalls but didn’t rush the steps as Ford waved like a prize fighter, holding Madison’s hand up high.

  He shouted at his old lady, “Now that’s a way to mark you as my property.”

  “Good going!” women said to Madison as Ford helped her down the steps.

  “He’s a wild one,” said another.

  “Train him good.”

  “Think you can get him to keep it in his pants?”

  Damn, he didn’t need that last one.

  The crowd parted like the Red Sea as they walked through the hangar.

  “You’re a champion,” Madison told him.

  They wound their way across the hot tarmac where planes used to be parked. Now it was just a milling sea of black leather and boobs. The vocalist was howling about bein’ a ramblin’ man as Ford greeted a lot of brothers who were much more interested in Madison’s titties than him.

  It was all right. They got their fish and ran into a group that included Maddy’s brother Speed. Ford remembered. Today Speed was supposed to receive his instructions for his trial by fire. Ford and his brothers had thought up a particularly grueling and hilarious ordeal for Speed, and Ford now sappily wished he hadn’t been so hard on the young mechanic. Speed, having no family aside from Madison and occasionally June, desperately wanted to be part of the Bare Bones brotherhood.

  Speed seemed surprised to see the two together, but that didn’t stop him from asking Madison, “So when you going back to Flag? Isn’t Jake looking for you?”

  Ford shoved the idiot. He bumped into Duji, who shoved him back at Ford. This went on for a while until Ford noticed Duji’s black lab sitting patiently at his side. Ford put the last few bites of fish on the paper plate onto the ground in front of the dog, and removed its collar. It was just a simple black leather job with spikes, perfect for his intentions.

  “Madison,” he said loudly, in front of several brothers, “I am claiming you in front of God and my brothers.”

  She had never looked more adorable, and after Ford collared her, he dipped her low so he could nuzzle her cleavage. He wanted his boys to be envious. When he stood Madison back on her feet, he saw the approval in his brothers’ faces, but there was a new face that nauseated him.

  “What’s this?” Cropper wanted to know.

  It was none of Cropper’s fucking business, and Ford didn’t report to him. So Ford cast Cropper a dark look and changed the subject. “Speed, buddy. You received any texts lately?”

  “Yeah!” agreed everyone heartily. “Check your phone, man.”

  Even Cropper had to get in on it, holding Speed still while Riker fished around in his cut’s pockets for his phone.

  “My, my,” said Riker, holding the phone out for all to see. “What do we have here? A text.”

  Ford got a kick out of how still Speed became then. It was obvious he was finally realizing this was “the call” he’d been waiting for.

  “Let him read it himself,” said Cropper, letting Speed go.

  Speed read it over the top of his shades, his lower lip hanging slack. Everyone in the circle around him quieted down, and Ford could hear Speed whisper,

  “Oh, no. Coordinates!”

  Cropper’s barking laughter broke the hush. “Goin’ somewhere, Prospect?”

  Everyone guffawed except Madison, who couldn’t possibly know what they had up their sleeve.

  “Your ride’s right over there.” Cropper pointed next to the stage. Someone had moved Speed’s white Dyna from its safe parking spot inside the hangar, and it now awaited him.

  “Holy shit,” said Speed. “Can I take my backpack?”

  “You can take nothing,” ordered Cropper. “It’s a Vision Quest, like the woo-woos do when they come to visit vortexes. It’s a time for being one with nature. Leave your cut, too.”

  Riker added, “Find an understanding of your life’s purpose.”

  Ford said, “You’ll really see vortexes after three days and nights with no food or shelter.”

  Each step they took toward the bike gained them more cheering, clapping spectators. By the time poor Speed reached his ride he was probably shaking like a half jerked-off dog.

  “I don’t suppose you can tell me what you’re making him do,” Madison shouted in Ford’s ear.

  “If I tell you, I have to kill you,” he said.

  Folding his arms in front of his chest, Ford had never been prouder. Speed must have been shitting razor blades as he sat in his saddle blipping the throttle nervously. As Speed’s sponsor, Ford posed beside the shaking, skinny blonde prospect while a dozen people took photos.

  Then Speed roared off wobbly in the direction of the road that led down Mescal Mountain. Two hundred people were cheering by that time. It was one of the most stirring things Ford had ever participated in.

  “What’s a vision quest?” Madison asked.

  “Let’s hope he makes it through,” said Duji.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  MADISON

  The next two days were the happiest of my life, as they say.

  It was such a whirlwind. I wasn’t even certain what had happened between Ford and me.

  He had claimed me as his property, I knew that much, but did he love me? He had uttered something about birds and love, a Henry Miller quote no doubt. Miller was supposed to be some misogynistic bastard who treated women like objects, so maybe that’s why Ford liked him. But as far as I’d seen when I’d read him as a teen, he really revered women. He just liked to fuck them. Was that treating them like objects?

  We fucked a lot in the next two days. Twelve years I’d been craving that fat, juicy cock inside of me, an
d now I couldn’t get enough of it. Ford Illuminati was hung like a racehorse and he knew how to use it, too. My hands were all over that. I had thought I was attracted to Jake but that paled in comparison to the intensity with which I wanted to devour Ford.

  Riding one up behind him like in the old high school days, there was a world of difference now. We were free of all restraints for that glorious forty-eight hours, and Ford took me to see a couple of the vortexes. We had been on a tour of these several times when we were kids. This time no one brought any weed, and I wanted to suck on that horse cock inside the middle of a vortex.

  We had been separated for so long it was like meeting a new man. The thrill, the illicit excitement of canyon carving through the rusty layers of sandstone, like red velvet cake tall on either side of us, it was all new to me again. Now I could thrust my hand along Ford’s pec and toy with the little barbell that pierced his nipple, proud of myself when my other hand felt his cock stiffening. I knew he pretended this irritated him, and he’d reach around, slap my ass, and shake it.

  “You’re throwing me off-balance.”

  “Your giant erection is throwing you off-balance.”

  I wanted to amplify our energies, so we’d climb around awhile until we felt the highest, most intense amplification of all, and that’s where we’d fuck or give each other head. Ford had learned a lot of tricks in the past decade. Lapping me into a mindless clusterfuck of an orgasm with his talented tongue was apparently one of them. I was still amazed that he could do that.

  I finally had to admit I’d never come with a man before. “Just, you know, with a vibrator.” I didn’t want to mention the shower head in Cottonwood. The horrific memory of that bathroom wall was probably the reason I couldn’t come with another man.

  Ford was humble. “Maybe no one ever tried properly.” He lay stretched out on the sandstone, propped up on one forearm, looking like he was posing for fucking GQ. I loved it when he wore his cut next to his bare skin, like now. I loved to flick that damned infernal barbell that pierced his nipple with my tongue. It never failed to make him hiss in air and clutch the back of my skull. His new Apache tattoo was fascinating. He seemed to be embracing his Native American heritage instead of shunning it, as most bikers would do.