I toss my empty bottle into the recycle can. “Okay. This isn’t as bad as I was afraid it was going to be. It still sounds dangerous as hell. What happened Saturday?” I ask, recalling what they had said earlier.
“Charlie was tired. Sloppy. He nearly lost. I time him. He calls landmarks and I mark the times. That way I can tell him if he needs to push or not. Saturday, he had to push. Hard.”
“Charlie never did have any sense,” I mutter. “Why didn’t he call it off?”
“You can’t just call it off, Claire. We plan these races months in advance. This was the first race of the season. He had already paid to enter. If he hadn’t shown up, he was out the entry fee.”
“How much is that?”
“Two-thousand dollars,” Shep says.
I feel my eyes bug out. “And how much can you win?”
“It’s winner take all. Charlie won $12,000 Saturday.”
I stare at Shep. That’s three month pay for me. “Shit.” I finally take a breath.
“Yeah. In four weeks we have a chance for Charlie to make some serious cash. $5,000 entry fee, twenty riders. These are the best outlaw street racers in the country. They are all coming here. All to put their reputation on the line against Charlie.”
“One-hundred thousand dollars,” I gasp in shock.
“That’s right. And though we don’t know for sure, I have heard rumors that there may be talent scouts there from some of the professional racing teams. This is the first time this many guys that are this good have been together in one place.” Shep looks at me, his eyes serious. “Charlie can win this. He’s that good. Please, Claire, don’t arse this up for him.”
I stare into Shep’s eyes. “Take me on this loop. Now,” I say firmly. “I want to see for myself.”
Shep grins. “Hey you, mob!” Shep calls. “Claire and I are going off on our own.”
***
Shep and I mount up and turn back the way we came before peeling off down a rutted and frost heaved road. We follow that for a time. Then, we arrive at another smooth and well maintained road. We wander about, twisting and turning, until we arrive at yet another cross road. Shep rolls the bike to a smooth stop. “You have a watch with a second hand?” he asks over his shoulder.
“What?”
“This is the start. Fourteen point six miles later we will pop out on this road again about three miles up. You want to time it and see how fast we can do it riding at a comfortable speed? Tell me when to start.”
“You’re not going to kill us are you?” I ask.
“No worries. Just a nice brisk ride.”
I watch the seconds tick by on my watch. When the seconds click over to zero-zero, I slap Shep and say, “Go!”
Shep accelerates briskly away. We hustle along the smooth but twisting road as Shep leans the bike into the corners, occasionally dragging something on the ground. I hold on tight. Afraid, but exhilarated at the same time. As we come around the last turn, I see the stop sign ahead and I look at my watch. The minute Shep touches the brakes, I mark the time. Sixteen minutes, thirty-eight seconds. As we roll to a stop, I give Shep our time.
“Not bad,” he says. “Let’s see. That works out to…about fifty miles per hour. These guys will do it in about eight minutes.”
“Eight minutes!” I exclaim. “If sixteen minutes is fifty miles per hour that means they are averaging over a hundred!”
“That’s right. Charlie’s best time, since this started ten years ago, is seven-fifty six. That’s an average speed of one-ten point four.”
I try to get my head around those numbers. We were only doing fifty, but it felt like a thousand. Going twice as fast must be terrifying. “Has anyone been killed doing this?” I ask just loud enough for Shep to hear me over the idling motorcycle.
“Not in a long time. Not in the last five years, not since we have started getting organized.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“Yeah, we’ve had a couple of guys end up in hospital,” Shep says, seemingly content to sit on the bike and answer all my questions. “I won’t kid you, Claire. This is dangerous. All motor racing is, but we try to make it as safe as we can.”
“And the cops don’t know about this?”
“I’m sure they know. But, since we only hold this event a few times a year and not on a regular schedule, they either can’t catch us or they don’t try. There are only two entrances and we post lookouts. Everyone is in radio contact. If the cops show up, we let the riders know. They can’t bust us if we are riding the speed limit.”
“You have it all figured out, don’t you?” I say sarcastically.
Shep looks back over his shoulder. “We try. But there is always the unexpected. Like last year, one of the riders hit a possum and crashed. He walked away from it, but how do you prevent something like that?”
I sit, the bike quivering between my legs. “Let’s go. I want to talk to Charlie.”
***
Shep and I walk into the house. Charlie is sprawled out on the couch watching some motorcycle race on the television. “If I ask you to not race the Mini-Man, would you not go?” I ask by way of greeting.
Charlie sits bolt upright. “What?” he nearly shouts. “Did you tell her?” he demands, looking at Shep.
“Don’t blame him. I told him you told me. Just answer the question. If I ask you to not race the Mini-Man, would you not go?”
Charlie is silent for a long moment. “I have to Claire. This is my big chance to start my own shop. Did he tell you about the shop?”
“He did. He told me everything. You know you could be killed, right? You could die doing this.”
“I could,” he admits. “I could also die on the way to work Monday. To be honest, I am more likely to die in a traffic accident than in this race.”
I stare at him fuming. Charlie has always been stubborn and I know nothing I say will change his mind. “Fine!” I bark. “But there is going to be some changes around here. First and foremost, you start sleeping in your own bed.”
“Yes ma’am,” Charlie says with a smile.
“I’ll take the couch,” Shep says.
“The hell you will,” I say, turning on Shep. “I’ll take the couch. You are in charge of making sure he doesn’t kill himself,” I say before turning back to Charlie. “When is this race?”
“May eighth.”
I think for a moment. “I’ll be out by then or I should be. I will continue to do the cooking until I leave; but, that last week, after I’m out, you’ll eat with me. You both will. For the next four weeks, if you are not at work, you are working on making this happen, clear?” Both of them look at me like I have just grown another head. “Clear?” I repeat more firmly.
“Uh, sure,” Shep says.
“Charlie, you have to promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?” Charlie asks.
“If you win, you’re done. Promise me.”
Charlie begins to chuckle. “I promise.”
***
The next three weeks fly by. Charlie and Shep go out two or three times a week, late at night, and run the track, honing Charlie’s reflexes. I insist on those days that Charlie nap before they leave. To enforce the napping rule, I keep Shep engaged in conversation, so he won’t make any noise. I put Charlie on a strict diet, heavy on proteins and I refuse to allow any alcoholic beverages in the house. That last causes some pushback, but I stand my ground and they relent.
During these three weeks, I find that I like Shep. I try to impress upon him how much I am counting on him to keep Charlie safe. He seems to take the responsibility seriously and I pray that I can trust him.
The three of us do a lot of riding together as the days lengthen. I normally ride behind Charlie, his motorcycle is more comfortable; but, I enjoy riding behind Shep occasionally, as well. I would deny it if he were to ask, but I rather enjoy snuggling up to his back.
We are in my last week in Charlie and Shep’s house. Although I am looking forward to sleepin
g in my own bed at my own place again, I find myself already missing the company of Charlie and Shep. “Shep!” I call after he makes his goodnights, heading upstairs to bed. “May I talk to you a moment?” I ask when he pauses.
Shep comes over and sits beside me. “What is it, Claire?”
“Shep. Jason, promise me you will keep Charlie safe.”
“Claire, I can’t promise you that; but, I can promise you that I will do everything I can.”
I look deep into Shep’s eyes, trying to read his intent. “I believe you,” I finally say.
“Claire,” he says, “Charlie is like a brother to me. You can trust me.”
Without even thinking I move halfway towards him. I close my eyes, inviting him to kiss me. When I feel his lips, tender and warm, touch mine, I breathe deep. I find that I am enjoying the kiss of a man once more. I’m in my nightie and robe and I realize that I want Shep. I really do. He’s not my type at all, but there is something about him. Attraction has been building these last three weeks. I pull back from the kiss, sucking on my bottom lip as I look into his eyes.
“Claire, I can’t,” Shep says standing up and backing away. “Your Charlie’s sister…and I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t?” I ask softly, surprised and a little hurt. “Am I too old? Not pretty enough?”
“No. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met. I do want you. I have been wanting you since you got here; but, I can’t do that to Charlie,” Shep says looking down at me.
“Why do you care what Charlie thinks?” I ask, relieved that it isn’t my age or my looks that’s the problem.
“I told you. Charlie is like my brother. That makes you, kind of, my sister.”
That causes me to pause, then I smile. “What happened to that lady killer I have heard so much about?” I tease.
He smiles. “Maybe I don’t want to kill you.”
“Maybe I want you to.”
Shep stares at me for a long time, so long that I think he is going to come to me. “Goodnight, Claire,” Shep says before he turns and walks upstairs.
***
Nothing else is said about what happened. Two days later, fifteen members of the Kings of Chaos meet Shep, Charlie and I at the storage unit. Four hours after we start, I am once again buying beer and pizza. “Charlie,” I begin, after thanking all the Kings for their help, “I’m moved in, but I still need some help unpacking. Can I borrow Shep for a few hours to help?”
“I’ll help, too,” Charlie says.
“No! One week from today you race. I don’t want you doing anything else. I didn’t want you moving furniture today either, but you are so pig-headed you wouldn’t listen. Besides, I can’t watch both of you to make sure you do it right. Shep and I can do it,” I say before turning to Shep, “If you don’t mind, that is. If you do, that’s okay.”
“No, I don’t mind helping,” Shep says, looking directly into my eyes.
“Good. Then, it’s settled. Go home, rest, relax, enjoy having your house to yourself for a change,” I say to Charlie.
Charlie looks back and forth between us. “What’s going on?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I say. “Shep is going to help me hook up my TV and move some furniture around. So long as he doesn’t break anything, everything will be fine.”
Charlie doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t say anything. “Okay. Call me if you need me.”
***
Shep and I spend the next six hours unpacking boxes, hanging pictures, and putting items away. About seven, I call a halt and flop on the couch. I’m tired, but satisfied. Once the dishwasher stops running and I put the dishes away, I will be fully moved in. Even my television and internet works.
“I’m too tired to cook and too tired to go out. If you call and have something delivered, I’ll pay for it,” I say. “Anything but pizza.”
I log Shep onto my computer and less than an hour later there is a knock at my door. Shep hops off the couch where we were sitting half asleep and collects the Chinese food. The food perks us up. We laugh ourselves silly as Shep tries to teach me to eat with chopsticks. While we are eating, Charlie calls to make sure we are okay. I assure him that everything is going fine and that I’d send Shep home after we finish eating.
As I end the call, I look at Shep sitting there, picking up individual grains of rice with his chopsticks. I can barely pick up a hunk of chicken and he can pick up a single grain of rice. I wonder what else he might be good at.
“Shep, will you stay a little while?” I ask. “I could use some company. I’ve gotten used to being in your way and I don’t want to be alone at the moment.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Probably not. But stay anyway. It’s only eight o’clock.”
***
We plop onto the couch and stream a movie, both of us laughing as Julia Roberts and Richard Gere heat up the screen in Pretty Woman.
“That was a great movie. Thank you for introducing it to me,” Shep says. “I never knew that a… what is it you Yanks call movies like this… a chick flick… could be such fun.”
“That’s one of my favorites,” I say looking into his eyes. By silent agreement, we move into the kiss.
We kiss a moment, but this time it is Shep that pulls back. “Claire, I need to go.”
“Stay. Stay with me tonight.”
“Claire,” Shep grinds out. “I thought we talked about this. I can’t do that to Charlie.”
“What about you? Or me? I want you, Jason. I want you to stay with me tonight. I have never asked a man to stay with me before, but I’m asking you. Will you stay with me?” Shep stares at me, the war he feels clear on his face. “Shep. Jason,” I say rising from the couch and pulling gently on his hand, “take me to bed.”
Shep resists a moment longer, then rises. “Charlie is going to kill me. Even if we do this, we should wait until after the race.”
Shep has made a good point, but it doesn’t matter, not now. I have been too long without the touch of a man. I want Shep’s touch, tonight. “Don’t tell him,” I say. “Not until after the race.”
***
We take our time undressing each other. Now that we are committed, Shep seems to forget his reluctance and focuses on me. Really focuses on me, unlike any lover I have ever had.
We lie on the bed with him tucked in behind me in a loose spooning position. I’m ready to go, but Shep takes his time. He draws his fingers slowly down my spine. His touch is electric. It causes me to squirm in pleasure and anticipation. As he caresses me, his hands seem to be everywhere. His lips leave flashes of pleasure at every touch and his tongue leaves a hot trail that he cools with his breath. He attends to my needs, my desires. He gives me everything and asks for nothing in return.
I roll over and open my legs, silently offering myself to him; but, he refuses to rush. He spends an eternity kissing me. His lips are gentle and warm, as he covers my body with his. As much as I enjoy his kisses, he is taking too long. I push him away. “Please. Please take me,” I beg, desperate to feel him inside of me.
“Patience,” Shep breathes, as he begins to move lower, kissing, suckling, licking, driving my desires higher still. I reach for his manhood, but he flattens himself to me, stopping my attempt. “Patience,” he whispers again. His Australian accent becomes heavier. “I want to savor each moment of my time with you.”
As his tongue swirls around the point of my breast, he begins to lightly caress the inside of my thighs with the tips of his fingers. I hear myself whimper softly at his touch as I begin to squirm again. After a lifetime of the most exquisite tortures, Shep leaves my breasts and moves lower still. As he slowly kisses along my stomach and sides, I gasp and buck, thrusting my hips into his hard chest. Normally ticklish along my sides, I discover ticklish becomes something much more when deep in the throes of passion. His touch is making me wild with desire.
I beg Shep to stop, to release me from this hell of desire he has placed
me in, but he refuses. He never wavers in his slow, methodical march downward. When, at long last, he arrives at my V his hands leave my breasts and begin to stroke my sides. Once again I writhe and twist and moan. I flail gently, as he torments me. “Shep, please,” I beg again. I am on a hair trigger, burning with desire.
When his hands leave my sides, I nearly gasp in relief. Then, I feel his breath on my womanhood as he blows gently, the sensation incredibly erotic. When his fingers touch me, opening me to him, I can feel my orgasm leap close. I require only the gentlest of nudges and I will fall over the edge. With a gentle touch of his tongue to my button, Shep pushes me into the abyss.
Angels from Hell: A Biker Erotic Romance Page 3
