by Harper Riley
Finally, he asks me from over his shoulder, “You ready to go?”
“Yeah,” my voice quivers. “Sure.”
I go to walk, but two hands hold me in place. They scoop up my legs and hoist me over a shoulder. Bear holds tightly to my waist as I squeal in surprise. I half-try to get myself out of this, but I know it’s a long way down from here, and I’m not about to fall in front of all of the Filth and Butcher watching me like hawks.
Kitka, out of sight from Cobra, waves at me with her little, thorny fingers.
“Enjoy.” She smirks.
I want nothing more than to wipe that smug little witchy grin off of her face, but I’m already halfway across the parking lot before I can make a move. Bear brings me to where is old Harley is parked.
It’s a beater, for sure. One of those 1980s models. It’s oversized and bulky for no reason whatsoever. Back then, guys liked them so they could show off some prestige. Nowadays, the riders want something smaller, sleeker, faster—especially if they’re outrunning the cops or another club. A ride like this won’t go too far.
Bear catches me staring. “It’s not gonna bite. I’d think you’ve ridden one before given your current... occupation.”
“I’m not a fucking hooker if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Didn’t say you were.” He hands me his jet-black helmet. At least no one will recognize me with this thing on. “Get on the damn bike so we can get the fuck out of here. I’m not ready to go for round two.”
Bear looks out to the greater parking lot, which is now filling up with drunk, bitter Filth and Butcher. I didn’t realize earlier what it would mean to win me for a night. He isn’t just taking the pride of the club by knocking out DJ, but he’s also challenging a different, more sacred, kind of territory. Even though us ladies get shit on and tossed aside, we are valuable status symbols. We make the club run and the men want to join up. Bear is taking away their newest girl, and that can’t be sitting too well with any of them.
Without another thought, I hop on, straddling the back of his thighs and hips. I have just enough time to wrap my arms around his waist before we lurch off. Instantly, I understand why a guy like Bear would love a ride like this. It’s smoother than any hog I’ve been on, and it roars like a lion out on the hunt. Each corner we take, it can speed through without threatening to tip, and it hits speeds easier than the newer models.
I’m converted. No crapping on older rides ever again. I hate to admit it, but a moment with him on the highway and my mind is completely clear. There are no more fights, no more blood, no more Kitka irritating the hell out of me.
It’s just him, me, the open road, and the dare to bring back my own prize for my troubles.
Chapter 4 - Bear
“This is it?” she cries as she sweeps her arm around her like some grand princess in her tower. “You’ve got twenty-four hours to do whatever you want to me, and you bring me... here?”
“What did you expect, Sunday? The fuckin’ Hyatt?” I slam the motel door behind me and walk towards the bed. Sure, this place ain’t great, but it was better than the alternative—bringing her straight back to my place in Wilderkind territory. She would’ve gotten eaten alive if I did that. This place was so much better despite the roaches outside and the drunks screaming at one another from across the patio.
“I just thought you’d pick something a bit more romantic.” She grins at me with those wicked pink lips. A pretty girl like her often doesn’t know what she’s got, but I can tell that with Sunday, she knows what she’s working with. She can get away with saying dumb shit like that to a guy like me. She’s probably even used to it—though I’m doubtful that her Filth and Butcher boys are as lenient as I am on the back talking and fake whining.
“You at least got some drinks in here for me?” she adds as she eyes the little black fridge underneath the desk. As she tries to walk over to it, she stumbles straight into the chair just barely avoiding hitting her head on the sharp corner of the desk. I find myself running to her side, scooping her back in my arms, and bringing her straight to the bed beside me.
“You’re not touching that tonight. When was the last time you had a damn water?” Her eyes look at me distantly as if they’re searching for something. She’s not gonna find it in me. I’m on lockdown, even for a girl like her that sends my cock straight.
Sunday licks her lips and says, “Yeah. Ya know, I could use one if you’re offering it to me.”
I stand back up and open the fridge. To my luck, there are bottles of water chilling next to the beer. I grab one of each and hand the clear bottle to her. The other is mine to enjoy after a night like this. The fight was one thing, but I sure as fuck caused some trouble with wanting to take Sunday as my prize. I saw how those guys eyed me and how my own men clicked their tongues at me as if I was some outcast or traitor. I am gonna pay for this night.
Turning back to her, I note, “If I’m gonna get a good night with you, I’d like you to be at least halfway sober.” I hold out my beer to her for a cheers. She follows along, clinking the plastic bottle to my stale old can. After a chug of mine, I add, “I’m not into chicks that can barely stand on their own. They’re not exactly good at riding with me.”
“Riding with you?” Her eyebrows rise. “You talk like it’s a rollercoaster ride or something. I wouldn’t be so... cocky.”
I burst out laughing at her play on words. The chick has personality too. I could appreciate that. If I brought a girl back to a motel or my room, the most of a conversation I usually get is a few groans and another couple, “Fuck me, Bear... please fuck me!” That’s about as intellectual as it got.
She seems impressed by my laugh. “You like that one, huh? Well, I’ve got plenty more where that came from. Did you hear the one about the boxer who got beat up in a fight? He was a sore loser.”
I blink rapidly before turning towards her, my hands on each side of her body. Standing up, I begin to tower over her until she’s got nowhere to go but down towards the bed.
Struggling not to laugh, I scold her, “That’s what you got for me? That lame ass joke... do you even know who I am, Sunday? I should knock you out for that one.”
She giggles and squirms under me. Her small, balled up fists pound away at my chest as she squeals. My head drops down to the space between her long, pale neck and the curve of her shoulder. The old beard I’ve been meaning to shave down scratches at her till she cries out, “No! No! Stop!”
I only mutter the word, “fine,” before moving up towards her mouth. In one, quick second I claim her lips. I feel her body melt beneath me. Her hands float down to the pale brown comforter, and her legs curl around my thighs and knees. A growl grows within me, but I’m not about to pull away from her right now. She is mine—totally mine. Her soft body, the curve of her arm draped around my neck, these sweet round breasts pressed tight against my torso... it’s like a dream to be on top of her, dominating her. But it isn’t enough. If I am going to do this—take some claim on a girl from a rival club—she is going to know her place.
I take that arm that rests on my neck and throw it above us. The second one follows before she can even react. I pin them up above her head with one crisscrossed above the second. Her legs come next. I use my hips to spread both as far apart as I can. I want a good angle. She looks too damn hot under my control not to enjoy it to the full extent.
Her eyes glow at the realization of what’s about to go down. I hate to admit it, but there are damn rocks in my stomach that are growing like weights just thinking about taking her. What the fuck was up with me tonight? There was no way I should be hesitating like this. My lips should be all over these delicious tits of hers. My cock should at least be warming itself up in her. But I can’t bring myself to move on her, not right now. Maybe it’s the taste of booze that lingers in my mouth from our deep kiss, or maybe it’s the way she’s looking on me like an eager puppy dog... but I pull up and away, rolling over to my side.
“I’m gon
na take a second outside.” I sigh in an attempt to catch my breath. I can’t even look at her before I’m out the door. The brisk night air hits me like a strike of lighting. It’s much cooler than I remember, or maybe it was just me being some pussy shit asshole who can’t get himself to take a drunk girl when she offered it up. What was it about her that made me actually care if she was in her right mind or not?
I check my phone. It’s practically exploding with messages from the guys congratulating me on the win. But near the end of the list, the most recent messages, get nasty. Even the guys I’m loyal to—the ones that have come up with me—are questioning if I’ve gone out of my fucking mind to trade in the fighter’s prize for a one night stand with a chick from an opposing club.
Not that I blame them or anything. I’m half-considering jumping on my bike and stranding her here in the motel room. Feisty chick like her could handle herself for a night while she sobered up and then found her own way back to the Filth and Butcher headquarters. Still, it wouldn’t change my situation. I can’t change that I did pick her over the money and the liquor and that the entire two clubs watched me walk away with her draped over my back.
There is no going back from here. I might as well enjoy my spoils.
I take a deep breath and head back inside, but to my surprise, she’s curled up in bed with her thin legs clutched up to her stomach. The blonde hair stretches over the white pillows and her lipstick stains the corner of the bed linens she’s laying on. How the hell I ended up with America’s only angel was beyond me. I lift her up and over towards the right side of the bed to make space for myself. I wasn’t normally one for sharing. Okay, that’s a lie. I never, ever, let a chick sleep in bed next to me. It’s rule number one for guys like me when you’re just trying to have a good time. But tonight’s different, and she’s too drunk and tired to even notice that I’m breaking protocol here.
I reach over and click the light off. The room grows still and quiet, but my mind races a mile a minute as if I’m out driving it on the highway. In the background, I can hear her breathing like a beating drum with its own rhythm. Her hand eventually travels over to me, finding my arm through the thick layer of comforter I tossed on her. Her hand just barely clasps around half the muscle, but still, she holds on to me like she won’t let go for nothing.
I force my eyes to close and think back on the fight—the mistakes I made, the plays I followed, the look on my opponent’s face as I knocked him the fuck out. Years ago, this is how I usually fell asleep. That was when I slept in the moldy, damp locker room of my old gym long before I had a group of guys sheltering me and giving me a life to look forward to. Now look how far I’ve gone? From cement floor under a dripping shower to here, in bed with a woman’s leg slightly draped over my thigh.
Everything goes blank except the sound of the imaginary crowd cheering my name in victory.
DAMN AM I HOT! FUCK! I never sleep under blankets or sheets. I always run a few degrees above everyone else. But tonight’s ridiculous. It takes me a few seconds to realize that I’m not in my own bed back in my apartment. There’s the chair I don’t know and the mini fridge humming along. A sign on the door I can barely read through my squinted eyes gives the checkout time as ten a.m. And beside me, a girl is awake and moving. Sunday. I can’t believe I forgot about Sunday.
She doesn’t notice I’m awake. She’s too busy fumbling with something on the side of the bed to even care that I’ve hoisted my head up on my arm for a better view. She’s got my pair of jeans in her hand and is going through the pockets carefully. The bitch is actually trying to steal from me! Was this the plot all along? Did she think I got some cash out of this as well? This little witch doesn’t have a clue what kind of sleeping bear she just woke up.
With one arm, I reach over and manage to catch her by the stomach as she screams in surprise. Her hand flies up and out of my jeans, and it’s clear as fucking day that she’s clutching something. I throw her back down so hard that her body bounces into the air off the springy mattress. With a quick leap, I am on top of her, holding her down like earlier in the night.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing going through my stuff like that, girl? You robbing me? Was that your plan?”
“No... no... please. Let me go. I just took...” She opens her balled up palm to show me what she’s holding on to. The brown and tan bear charm I wear on the backside of my jeans for good luck—a little trinket my old boxing coach gave to me years ago, right before I left him to join the club. He knew it was the best move for me, even if it meant giving up boxing, but the charm was there to remind me what kind of monster I could be when I let myself unleash it.
I interrogate her further, leaning my face down so that she can see the bulges of my veins along my throat and my eyes glaring at her with menace. “Why do you want it? You think it’s worth something to me? It’s just a shit toy you dumb girl!” I take the charm out of her hand and toss it onto the floor. The metal clasp clinks on the tile until it rests against the back wall. I’d worry about finding it tomorrow. Right now, I only have punishment in my mind.
I turn back to her as she cowers away from me. “What do the Filth and Butcher do with chicks like you who steal things? Or do they know what kind of low-life scum you are and that’s why they were all too eager to get you out of their hair?”
“No! No! Please. Just listen to me...” she begs, practically weeping under my control. “I’m sorry. I just needed it to prove to the girls that—”
“The girls?” I stop her. “What the fuck?” I ease up just enough so that she can spin and turn a little easier, though she gives up resisting when I allow her to speak.
“I need something to prove to the girls that I slept with you.” Her hands fly up to her face in what I think has to be embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I should’ve just asked. I didn’t mean for you to notice or find out.”
“Wait a minute. You’re telling me that this was some fucking dare?” I growl.
“Yes?” she squeaks, growing more and more uncomfortable at the sight of me. “But it ends up with you sleeping with me, so it’s all good, right?”
“Wrong,” I snarl as I lean down towards her before she can get out another stupid word from those beautiful lips. They open up to me like a secret passageway. She’s eager to please. After taking something of mine like that, she better be willing to play along with what I’m about to throw at her. While her hands are wrapped up in me, I spin her around, so she falls on top of me.
“Go down,” I command her, not a bit of humor in my mouth. “Get on your knees.”
Sunday’s blue doe eyes grow bigger, her thin eyebrows raising in a question she knows she’s going to have to answer herself. How far is she really willing to take this? If she thought she was going to take my shit and walk away without giving me something in return, she was mistaken. She is going to work for that charm starting right now.
After a moment, she smiles and then sinks down the length of my body. Her head rests against the thin fabric of my black silk briefs where the bulge grows slightly at the thought of her and what she is about to do for me.
“Strip for me,” I order her next, “fully.”
On her knees, she works her way out of the tight, short dress. It leaves her in a strapless pushup bra and a thin black thong so skinny I can barely notice it. Intrigued, I ask her to stand up for me. I use my finger to show her how I want her to spin around for me.
“Lean down,” I add. “I want to see that ass of yours.” She places her hands on her knees and gives me the best damn view of an ass I’ve ever had. It’s just the right size—round with a little meat on it, but it’s small enough that I could see me punishing her from behind.
“Take the rest off.”
Her eyes lock on me as she first removes the panties. They curl around her finger as she pulls them off of her legs. Her bra comes next. The tight fabric pulls and yanks her boobs together, but when the clasp is released, you can practically see them go
flying to be free. The round, perfect molds bounce slightly as they settle back in. Her perky tipped nipples point in my direction as they await my next order.
“Get back down. On your knees and get to work, Sunday.”
I lean myself back towards the bed with my hands resting behind my head. As I settle in, she removes my briefs. Just like her tits, my cock can’t wait to come out and play. I swear to God I think I hear her gasp at the size of it. Chick like her should know that nine times out of ten, a big guy like me comes packing large. What you see is what you get no matter where you’re looking.
Her hands wrap around my shaft, gliding themselves up the length to the top. I’m already a bit wet in anticipation, and she knows it too. I wonder, as she works my cock like putty in her hands, just how wet her panties were before she lost them? Her movements pick up speed, her hand pressure intensifies as I stiffen to a straight rod to her touch.
“More,” I growl impatiently. “Give me more.” She goes with it, her hands whipping relentlessly from top to bottom until she has a rhythm that could only be described as chaos.
When I’m there—when I’m good and hard and raring to go—I let her stop this tune up. I reach down to her, holding her by the wrist.
“Are you ready for this ride?” I ask, uncaring about her actual answer. She nods at me, slightly shaking. The alcohol might’ve worn off of her, but she still has some courage in those veins. She’s as ready as I am for the real show.
With one pull, she’s back down on the bed with me on top. I kiss her again, her own lips meeting me halfway. There’s longing in that kiss with her tongue dancing up on mine and her lips sucking my bottom lip into hers. The pretty little slut can’t get enough of me, and we haven’t even really begun to have fun. I hoist her legs up and onto my chest so that her feet can press down against me for support. With her in position, I grab hold of my throbbing cock, and I glide it right on in between the sweet, moist lips between her legs.
