Biker B*tch

by ANDIE J. CHRISTOPHER

  “What do you think about when you think about me?”

  “Ever since the first time, I think about your cock.” She squeezed him, and he pressed his hips against her hand.

  Her girlhood crush had grown up. It had an animal element to it now. Now, she had a taste for him and nothing else would do. But it would only be this. They were too different, and if she made the colossally stupid mistake of falling in love with him, he would walk away. But they could play this out and remain friends?

  They had to burn this thing out before it consumed them.

  “Things I shouldn’t think about someone who’s close enough to be a brother.”

  “You know you haven’t thought brotherly things about me in a real long time.” She gasped when he brought his hands up and cupped her head. Against her lips, he said, “We’re not related.”

  “But I don’t want—”

  “What don’t you want?”

  “I don’t want to go in your discard pile.”

  “You won’t.”

  She felt the sudden desire to run, and she shook her head. “You can’t promise me—” In her experience, promises were just empty words.

  “You did well enough for ten years without me. If this thing ends badly, you’ll do fine without me. I can be a gentleman.”

  She shot him an incredulous look. “But this is just temporary. I know you don’t do permanent.”

  “I don’t know, babe. But I do know this thing isn’t going away on its own.” She reached her hands beneath his leather jacket, moving toward the inevitable. “Once was never going to be enough with you.”

  “Then what are we going to do about it?”

  She didn’t want to get stuck in all her unconscious reasons for messing up her life right then. She wanted to get lost in Travis and the maelstrom of chemistry. That’s why she needed to recognize the exit signs. But she was going to enjoy this until it ran out of gas.

  Skyler’s come-hither half-smile held a hidden agenda. It was almost the same smile she might have given Travis when she played a prank on him as a teenager. This could be some sort of game to her, but he was going to disabuse her of that notion before this went any further, even though his dick was as hard as a wrench and the ache in his belly was back.

  “What do you want to do about it?”

  So much hung on the answer to that question. Was he prepared to walk away if she just wanted to fuck him until she’d worked him out of her system? Hell, no. Tasting her lips again wasn’t an option. It was imperative. Their chemistry was just too much for him to resist.

  Before his lips touched hers, she whispered, “Kiss it and make it better. For now.”

  Her words—the ones trying to make this temporary—permeated the haze and had him pulling himself closer and closer to her.

  “Babe, let’s just see where this goes. We could be sick of each other in a week. Or tomorrow. Don’t put time limits on it. Because then you’ll become something I can’t have, and you know how I am when I can’t have something.”

  She leaned into him, and her breath tickled his ear. He pulled back again so he could see the look in her eyes. They told him everything. He could fall into them for days, weeks, and years. She couldn’t put a time limit on this. If anything, he should be the one worried about an expiration date. He’d built his whole life around preserving his freedom. Other than his mom, he’d never wanted to be responsible for anyone. His brother and father had died, and he’d been powerless to stop any of it. But Skyler was inside him and he didn’t know if he’d be able to shake her.

  He doubted it.

  And he could see her wavering. He pressed his lips to hers in the only way he knew how to change her mind. He’d probably scared her the other night, so he gentled his lips and brushed them against hers for long moments, tasting her labored breath. Sipping at her scent. Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling it loose from the elastic that kept it in a ponytail. Her hands betrayed her words by pulling him closer.

  All his muscles tensed from the strain of giving her the smooth, soft seduction his Carrots deserved. He cupped one hand around the back of her neck, partly in a gesture of possession, partly to hold her back. Even though he wasn’t in a rush, he wanted to own her with this kiss. He burrowed under her shirt with his other hand, moved it up her side so he could feel her heartbeat. He cupped her breast and teased her pebbled nipples through the lacy bra she wore under her work shirt. The contrast between the tough woman she looked like on the outside and the silky scraps of nothing she kept to herself broke Travis’s resolve to keep this slow and soft.

  He used the hand at the back of her neck to hold her down as he crushed his mouth to hers. When her lips opened on a gasp, he pressed his tongue inside. She was right there with him. She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, futilely pulling at his cut with her fists.

  They were never going to make it to a fucking bed. He’d never get to feel her skin all next to him on some sheets instead of avoiding getting cut on discarded scrap metal. But Skyler’s fingers touched him all over, everywhere. And she had him thinking stainless steel would have to do.

  She made more of those needy, wanty sounds in the back of her throat, and he pulled back and pressed his forehead to hers. “What do you want, babe?”

  “Naked.”

  He stifled a chuckle; he’d kissed her brains out. She couldn’t even put whole sentences together. The fact she wanted him that much filled him up with some emotion he didn’t recognize. If he didn’t get inside her, his head was going to explode.

  “Your wish is my command.” He took off his cut and placed it next to her on the worktable. She went for the buttons on his shirt then, her fingers fumbling. He started at her buttons and their arms got tangled.

  “Gotta see your tits, babe. The way they pressed into my back when we rode over here almost made me wreck.” He extricated himself and undid her top before he pulled her sleeves halfway down her arms. “I love your fucking underwear. It doesn’t cover shit.”

  She freed the last button and pressed her hands to his stomach. He sucked in air feeling her fingers against his skin. She just stared at him and he didn’t know what to do. He never didn’t know what to do with a woman. He realized then that everything was new with her; everything they did together would be new. It scared him, and he needed to get his control back.

  “Like what you see, babe? I’ll let you look your fill, but you’ve got to get those damned jeans off. I’m the only one who should be cupping your ass like that.”

  She whimpered, shrugged off her shirt, and her hands went to her waistband. She unbuttoned the fly and had her pants at her ankles. He stopped watching her flail, and she pulled at his sleeves as he crouched to remove her boots and socks so she could get her jeans off. Then, he grabbed her by the waist and boosted her up on the bench, taking care that her feet wouldn’t get cut on some jagged piece of metal on the ground.

  He went for his belt and gave her another job. “Bra. Panties. Off. Now.” He liked telling women what to do in bed, but it was so much hotter when it was Skyler. She didn’t let anybody tell her what to do. Ever. If he told her what to do about her business, she’d punch him in the gut.

  But now, she wiggled out of her bra and he groaned at the sight of her pink-tipped tits. Made for him. For his mouth.

  He wanted to gorge on her, and he didn’t know when this would end. They hadn’t made it halfway through his list of things he wanted to do to her. It was as if just fucking her wasn’t enough. He wanted to breathe her in.

  “How the fuck do you smell so good?”

  He latched his tongue onto her nipple and sucked. She let out a small laugh. “I shower.”

  It wasn’t that. Even her damned sweaty skin was the only thing he wanted to taste. He trailed his mouth over her ribs, down her torso. His tongue traced her freckles and he moved slowly, teasing sounds out of her that grabbed his dick as sure as a mouth or hand.

  Travis would keep her naked for days on end wh
en she realized she was his. When she moved her ass into his house and became his old lady. His best friend. His lover. His wife. She was golden and soft and felt right with her thighs bracketing his. He didn’t know where the thought came from of her being his old lady, wearing his patch and taking up her spot on his bike—permanently. They didn’t make him want to run; in fact, he feet were glued to the ground.

  Where the fuck did all that come from?

  Maybe it was that extended moment where she just stared at him. Despite her talk about this being temporary, she was just as lost as he was. If he had his way, he’d keep them burning like this indefinitely. He’d wake her up every morning with his mouth or his cock. Sometimes, she’d return the favor. He moaned into her hot mouth at the thought.

  She clutched his upper arms and he ran his hands up and down her side, memorizing her. The only downside to taking her from behind a few nights ago was not being able to see her pretty nipples bounce while he fucked her. Or her eyes spur him on as he brought them both off. He intended to rectify that. Right now.

  She wiggled against him, her wet pussy coating him with her arousal. Her smell was going to kill him. He rocked against her in a slow tease.

  “Brace your hands on the table. I’ve got to taste you. Do you want me to taste you, babe?”

  She complied with his order. He loved how her eyes got all heavy-lidded and glazed over when he started telling her what to do. But only when they were together like this. He didn’t kid himself into thinking she’d be easy on him when they weren’t fucking. She’d tell him “no” all the damned time. He’d just have to fuck her until she did what he wanted. That seemed like the best solution for everyone involved.

  She leaned back and moaned, pushing her pelvis toward him. Best fucking workplace lunch ever. He put his mouth on her, moaning into her center. She tasted just right to him. He’d gladly the spend the rest of his life nibbling and licking all her hidden places, feeling her clutch his fingers inside of her and shudder and moan. He teased her until she was ready to break.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her fingers grabbing at the stainless steel table futilely. She wanted to put her hands in his hair and hold him to her; he knew that. But she was doing what she was told. He sucked on her clit until she came hard, her stomach muscles working and twitching. Good girls like her deserved to come.

  He stood up, wiped off his face with the back of his hand, and said, “I’m gonna have that for breakfast every day.”

  He turned to grab his jeans for a condom when he heard the doorknob to his studio twist. Shit. Chevy was supposed to be out riding today. Travis usually liked having him around, but this was the worst possible moment for Chevy to drop in.

  His dick was so hard it could probably drill through metal. Instead of a condom, he grabbed his shirt and threw it around a dazed Skyler’s shoulders. She obviously hadn’t heard the door and still had a loopy smile on her face.

  “Button that up.”

  “We’re done?”

  “No,” he said, pulling up his boxer briefs. “But Chevy’s about to come in here, and he’s not about to see my woman butt-naked and fuck-drunk.” She flushed so pretty when he called her “my woman,” and the words flowed out of his mouth like they were meant to hang in the air.

  Hearing that someone was coming in brought her out of her stupor and she shoved her arms in the shirt, buttoning it quickly. “Are you going to insist on fucking me in semi-public every time?”

  “Nah, but you kind of like it, don’t you?” She glared at him and searched the table for her panties. He found them on the floor and handed them to her.

  “I’m not going to lie and say I don’t like the orgasms, but can you get rid of him?”

  Travis pulled up his jeans just as Chevy walked into the studio.

  “Too late, Carrots,” Chevy said as he sauntered in. When he saw she was mostly covered, he grimaced. “I was hoping I was going to get to see the goodies this time. Ah well, with the amount of non-bedroom fucking you do, I’m gonna see your boobs sooner or later.”

  “Get the fuck out.” Travis was going to put a second lock on the door. And he wasn’t going to give Chevy the key. Then, he was going to get Skyler into bed, where he could keep her all to himself.

  14

  “I’m never trying to fuck you on a worktable again.”

  Travis’s declaration snapped Skyler out of her drowsy state. She wanted to savor a slow wake-up in her twin bed with a hot man. Tangled up with a very warm, cuddly Travis, her chest heaved with a heavy, full sensation she wasn’t ready to examine yet. Her teenage-self shook with apoplectic glee at the idea. And her adult self couldn’t accept the delusional claim that she didn’t like feeling his strong thigh between hers, his breath at her brow, and his chest under her ear.

  She lifted her head. “Why not? I enjoyed yesterday afternoon a lot until Chevy showed up.”

  He grinned at her. “I never get you on my dick when I fuck you on a worktable. I’m not saying we have to stick to beds from now on, but –”

  She plucked his nipple with her fingertips. “I don’t need to be ‘on your dick’ to have fun with you. ”

  He rolled her under him, his hair loose and hanging in her face. He held himself above her with his powerful biceps. There was something about a work-roughened man that a workout could never duplicate. The fact he’d lived his way into his magnificent body turned her on in a primitive way. But everything she felt about him was primitive.

  He rolled his hips against her open center. “I’d say I was more than fair to you last night. I believe you had four orgasms to my two. Double your money.”

  “So, we’re counting orgasms, now?”

  “I’m counting on another one soon.” He hardened even more against her. He leaned over and grabbed a condom from the box Michael had—thankfully—foisted on her. It gave her enough time to think she really ought to get up for work. It wouldn’t do for the boss to laze around in bed all day. On a Wednesday.

  By the time Travis sheathed himself, he looked at her with narrowed eyes and cocked head. “You’re not thinking about work when I’m about to fuck you, babe.”

  “I should get up after—”

  He pulled her leg up so he was at her opening, just hovering there. “Just for that.” He slid inside her so fast she let out a half-gasp, half-moan. “I ought to keep you in this bed all day. Maybe let you out to shower.”

  He grasped her wrists with his hands and pinned them beside her head, letting there be no doubt that he mastered her body. He began to stroke in earnest, and everything about it said yes. Even in missionary, his big cock rubbed her in all the right places. Soon she was lost in him, moaning and coming apart as he whispered all the filthy ways he could fill her day.

  “Nah. I have to have you in the shower, too.”

  Skyler stood up and stretched a few hours later, when Travis had finally left her sore and satisfied. Feeling the whisker burn on her cheeks, she wasn’t in the mood for knowing looks and sneers from Roy and decided to clean out the tasting room, which they’d open the next fall.

  Travis’s dad had built both the caves and tasting room into a bluff. Although everything sat covered in dust and the patina of neglect, it was sturdy. She wanted to yell at Roy for not keeping up with the maintenance, but she just didn’t have the energy to get after him about everything he’d done wrong.

  What had he been doing for the months before she got here? Maybe she didn’t want to know.

  She was bent down, scrubbing some shelves when she heard motorcycle engines. Did Travis forget something?

  She kept right on scrubbing until she heard pounding at the door. Travis knew how to get in, so maybe it was Chevy or one of the other Sinners. She hadn’t met them all and she’d hoped to meet them with Travis there. Although she was all about Travis’s biker sex appeal at the moment, she remained wary of the whole group. Part of her still thought of her father’s dangerous club when she saw a cut.

  Then,
she opened the door and her worst nightmare walked through.

  Deacon Rathburn sauntered through the door. She immediately backed up. He wore a Diablos Santos cut with a patch labeling him the Sergeant-at-Arms—the club’s rule enforcer.

  His boots chuffed against the dusty floor, like some Old West cowboy looking for a confrontation.

  Deacon had gone to high school with Isaac, and his dad was one of the Diablos’ founders. They’d all been friends—kind of. Never in a million years did she imagine he’d be part of the club he’d hated almost as much as she had. His father had been a mean drunk, and his membership in the club had made it all worse.

  Not that she would ask him that now.

  Maybe it was her fear talking, but had he grown? He was, like, six-five or something. Jesus. With his shaved head, aviator glasses, and club colors, she’d never seen anyone so frightening.

  She looked down and realized she’d wrapped her arms around waist. If there was a piece of furniture nearby to put between herself and Deacon, she’d have done it. When three other guys she didn’t recognize followed him into the room, she realized she was going to have to fake being brave.

  She should have stayed in bed with Travis all day.

  All four of them stood there and looked at her. Two were old guys with paunches and scraggly beards—typical bikers. Another was young; he was tall and lean and wore hipster glasses.

  “Didn’t believe I’d ever see you within a thousand miles of here.” Deacon sounded like he’d swallowed a bucket of gravel, which only added to the scary. “This is Hambone, Wallach, and JP.” He pointed to the tall, fat, old guy, and the short, fat, old guy and the young guy, in turn.

  None of them jerked their chins or smiled in greeting.

  “Is this my dad reaching out?”

  Deacon smiled at her and put his hands on his hips, the wrinkles around his eyes forbidding. “That’s cute. You think your dad still has friends in this club. You think we’ll still protect you?”

  “Nope. This club didn’t protect me ten years ago.” Skyler mentioned this intentionally, to remind them she wasn’t the rat. But at least this wasn’t her dad reaching out again.