Size Queen: A Motorcycle Club Biker Romance (Size Matters Book 3)

by S. C. Adams

  Noelle is the last girl to be shot in the group. This makes sense to me; it’s like they’re saving the best for last. Today is my lucky day, because Noelle is in front of the camera frequently and for much longer durations of time than before. Each bikini she comes out wearing is perfect and enough to make every man in the place salivate. It’s thrilling—I never know what kind of swimsuit she’s going to wear next, and it always surpasses what my imagination could conjure up.

  I keep my distance during the first half of the day’s shoot; however, I have plans for the second half of the shoot. I have a few motorcycles of my own of course, but my classic Yamaha is what is typically known as “the boss’s bike.” I want Noelle to get on the boss’s bike.

  I decide to approach her before she gets in front of the cameras again. I refrain from being blunt with her, although I want to—she’s wearing an amazing, revealing beige bikini that keeps her breasts ample and outward. She is a goddess among mortal women. Her aura becomes stronger with each subsequent step I take, and I actually think I might chicken out.

  “Hi,” Noelle says with a suggestive tone.

  “Hello there,” I say back. “How are you?”

  “Good,” she says while adjusting her bikini. “How are you?”

  “Can’t complain.”

  “Yeah, your shop’s full of a bunch of models in swimsuits,” she chuckles. “Could be having a worse day than that.”

  “Without a doubt,” I laugh. “You’re doing an excellent job again today.”

  “Well, thank you,” she says with a slight curtsy. “Do you have a favorite swimsuit?”

  “That you’ve worn?” I say, raising my eyebrow. “No, they’re all good to me. I think you look fucking sexy in all the bikinis you’re wearing.”

  My eyes dart down to my feet. I’m embarrassed by my admission and sloppy wording. But when I look up again, she’s smiling with a slight blush on her face, and she doesn’t seem to mind. “Thanks.”

  “I was thinking,” I begin, “I want you to pose on my bike. Not one of my bikes here in the shop—I mean my bike. My bike that’s parked right outside the shop. Y’all haven’t shot much outside, have you?”

  “No,” she assures.

  “Well, maybe you should talk to your coordinator and see if they’d like to get a few shots of you outside on my bike,” I suggest. “I think it would be the perfect fucking picture. You’ve got the sexy girl in a bikini on a motorcycle look that every man wants in the Florida sun. Doesn’t get much better than that, I don’t think.”

  Noelle takes a step closer to me and lowers her voice slightly. “Or we could have a private photo shoot on your bike after I’m done here.”

  Intriguing, I think. “I like the sound of that.”

  I stick around during the rest of their shoot, trying my damnedest not to stick to Noelle like glue. But I learn that whenever I’m away from her for too long, others would slowly start to swarm in for the kill. They are jackals, hungry and thirsty.

  As a result, I stay closer to the dressing rooms so I can make sure no one pounces on her. We can talk casually about essentially nothing, but getting face time with her is good enough.

  The more we talk, the looser we both feel. We get comfortable around each other fast, and before we know it, we’re joking around and laughing so hard that it actually bothers most of the other models and workers. The looser we get, the less we care what people think.

  I’m looking forward to the professional shoot wrapping so that Noelle and I can proceed with our “amateur production.” I’m hoping that the other models are going to leave fast once work is complete, and that all the other fellas will stay back without a fight. I want it to just be me and her. I can tell she is into me before we start laughing like schoolchildren, and I’m planning on seducing her.

  At the end of their shoot, some of the models flee the scene, but many stick around for drinks with some of the guys. While they stay inside, I escort Noelle out to the parking lot.

  Since she is a natural, a professional, and incredibly sexy, I allow her to decide what poses she is going to take on my Yamaha. My job is simply to point the phone and take pictures, but I’m glad that’s the extent of my labor. I am too aroused for my own good.

  She is wearing a gray bikini that goes well with the color and tint of my bike. I am more fixated on Noelle’s eyes than what her bikini allows me to see. She is staring into the lens as if she has the power to see through it and into my soul.

  We continue our casual non-conversations while she gives me a variety of captivating things to work with. There are moments when I nearly break—like when she spreads her legs wide across the bike and bends over so that her breasts are resting on my handlebars.

  “So, how old are you?” I eventually ask Noelle.

  “Twenty-six,” she answers. “You?”

  “How old do you think I am?”

  “I’d guess about thirty.”

  “You’re too kind,” I chuckle. “I’m thirty-two, actually.”

  “You could have fooled me,” she says while sliding off the bike to change positions. “Do you think six years is too big an age gap?”

  “Not at all,” I quickly answer. “I think it’s perfect.”

  Then with impeccable timing, she gets risqué and turns away from the camera. She bends over, sticking her firm, fine ass in the air, and touches her hands to the bike seat.

  “It’s—perfect,” I gulp while snapping as many pictures as I can.

  “You like my butt?”

  “I like every bit of you, to be honest,” I reply. “If you wanted to take the swimsuit off and just pose nude, I’d be all right with that.”

  She giggles. “Good to know.”

  I am loving every second of this. I know it’s going to have to end sometime, but I’m in no rush. I keep getting her to laugh, hoping that my charm and humor will keep her ensnared until I feel the time is right to ask her out.

  The levity is put on hold briefly when Noelle decide to get risqué again. This time, she leans against my bike, facing me. Slowly, she begins to slide her hands up from her knees all the way up to her bikini top.

  “Hey there…” I say like an idiot.

  She laughs, moving her hands slower once she sees how horny she’s getting me. Then, in the blink of an eye, she flings her bikini top off and covers her nice breasts with her hands. I don’t take pictures immediately, because I am transfixed by what I’m seeing.

  “I’m ready for my close-up,” she says with a wink.

  I clear my throat and resume photographing this stellar model. My body is yelling at me to replace her hands with my own and to have my way with her… but I have to stay cool.

  “So, do you have a girlfriend?” Noelle asks.

  “No, ma’am,” I reply. “Not married either. No kids—that I know of.”

  “Aha,” she says. “Nice. Yeah, I’m single too with no kids.”

  “What a small world,” I say with sarcasm.

  “Are you a guy who likes to be single?”

  “Hmm. Do I like being single? I’m not sure. I don’t think I’ve ever thought of it that way.”

  “I mean, when was your last serious relationship?” she asks.

  I know it would be best not to lie. I’ve found that honesty helps keep things strong.

  “I don’t know how long it’s been, to be honest,” I says. “It’s been a few years. I’ve never really been one to settle down. Not that I’m opposed to the idea, just… I guess I haven’t met the right girl yet.”

  She smirks at me, turning around so that her back faces me. She moves her hands away from her chest, allowing her naked breasts freedom but not visibility. I take many pictures, desperately hoping that she will turn around so I can see what her tits look like. I am so curious and so horny for her.

  “I haven’t been in a meaningful relationship in a while, either,” says Noelle. “I’ve been really focused on my work. I love modeling so much.”

  “I’m
not really one to sleep around that much, either,” I interject, hoping she isn’t thinking less of me somehow. “My best friend is the one that likes hooking up with a lot of strangers.”

  “Well, that’s good to know, because my best friend thinks he’s hot,” says Noelle.

  “He’s a really great guy,” I say weakly.

  We laugh. She bends over and picks up her bikini top, then ties it back on.

  “He really is a good guy,” I stress. “He runs the shop whenever I’m away. He and I’ve known each other for a really long time.”

  “He’s the vice president of the Rolling Heads, right?” she asks.

  I am surprised but not shocked that she knows that. I nod in confirmation.

  “He’s my closest friend,” I continue. “He and I have been running the Rolling Heads since our dads passed it down to us last year.”

  Her closest friend, Sabrina, comes outside eventually to join her. This prompts me to go right for it.

  “Say, why don’t I take you out for dinner tonight?” I offer. “Let’s celebrate the end of your shoot. My treat. We’ll go anywhere you want.”

  Noelle’s eyes widen, but she isn’t biting. “I actually made plans with Sabrina already, I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay,” I say. “Could I possibly convince you to grab a cup of coffee with me? I’ll take you wherever you need to go after. Besides, I think my bike likes you.”

  She laughs again, playing with her long brown hair as she makes her decision.

  “I could go for a cup of coffee,” says Noelle.

  3

  Noelle

  I’m not sure exactly what I am agreeing to with Damon, even though it is being labeled as “going out for coffee.” The look I got from Sabrina suggested I was heading toward sex simply by agreeing to go out with him.

  Admittedly, my attraction for Damon only strengthens on the ride from his shop to the coffee place. Sitting on the back of his bike, arms wrapped around his waist, I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking as he drives us down the road.

  We get our coffee and sit outside so that we can watch the sunset over the ocean. It is so beautiful. I would have taken more pictures of the sunset than Damon had of me on his motorcycle, but I don’t want to seem corny or cliché.

  Instead, we return to talking, which we both do really well. I learn about what it was like for him growing up around real gangs. I listen to him talk about how he loves working at his bike shop and how he wants to open up more across Florida. His passion and enthusiasm are a huge turn-on for me.

  Damon drinks his coffee quickly, but I take my time. I sip my drink slowly, not wanting this night to end. It’s strange… it is such a simple night. The only outlier I can pinpoint is the man himself.

  I am so into him, and I can tell he is into me, too. I don’t even have to laugh at all his jokes, good and bad, for him to know that I am responding to him. He doesn’t need to hit on me all night for me to know he is hard for me.

  “You’re the sexiest damn model in the whole bunch, just so you know,” he tells me.

  “You’re just saying that because I agreed to get coffee with you,” I say playfully.

  “I wanted you to get coffee with me because you’re the hottest model that’s ever walked in my shop.”

  “I see,” I reply with amusement. “But how do I know you don’t say that to all the models that go out with you?”

  “I think you’re the first model to ever go out with me,” says Damon.

  “Oh, come now,” I scoff. “You’re the hottest biker I’ve ever met! You’re telling me you don’t get girls better than me?”

  “Who’s better than you?”

  “You know what? Good point,” I say, getting back on my feet. “I can’t think of anyone.”

  “Nor I,” he concurs. “I’m really hoping you’ll reconsider dinner sometime. I’ve been having a nice time, haven’t you?”

  “I have,” I say without any doubt. “I also liked riding on your bike. I haven’t ridden on the back of one in a long time.”

  “You know how to drive one?” he asks.

  “Nah, I wish,” I say. “Maybe one day I’ll learn—you could teach me.”

  “Is that all you want me to teach you?”

  “Well… what else could I learn from you?”

  “All sorts of stuff,” he says. “If you ever want to come by the shop sometime…”

  “We’re not going back to the shop after this?”

  He blushes, which is insanely cute.

  “I guess I just figured I’d call you a cab to your place,” says Damon.

  “Just because I didn’t want to do dinner doesn’t mean I… don’t want other things,” I confess. “I really like being on your bike. Is your shop closed?”

  “For the day, yeah,” he replies. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason,” I say suggestively.

  It’s clear to me in that moment that his advances have finally weakened me enough. I am giving in to his persuasion. I am eager for more.

  Minutes later, we get back on his Yamaha and leave to go back to Raw Wheels. He revs his engine, I wrap my arms around him, and we speed off.

  I love feeling the beach wind flow against my body as we drive. I am nearly in a trance. He is an excellent driver. I wonder just how good he really is…

  While he steers us toward his shop, my hands lower from his waist down to his pants. I am not direct, but I am slowly making my way toward his crotch. He knows it, and he isn’t doing anything to stop me.

  I reach my hands into his front pockets and begin to feel around, anxious for his meat. I know he is in there somewhere…

  It is at that moment I know just how right Sabrina is: I need to get laid.

  We get inside his shop, and there is no one else left inside. Damon closes the doors and locks them up. I am beyond turned on for him.

  “I don’t normally do things like this,” I say.

  “Me neither,” he says with a smile.

  I’m still not sure the extent of what’s about to happen. But I am wet, and once he figures it out, I know we’re in trouble.

  “What are you thinking right now?” he asks.

  “A lot of stuff,” I say honestly. “I’m trying to figure out what you’re thinking.”

  “You might not want to know the answer to that.”

  “I want to know,” I admit.

  “I’m thinking about where the best place in the shop would be for me to fuck you,” he says in a tone I haven’t heard before.

  “Okay,” I say, nodding. “Nice.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m wondering if you’re as good at riding a woman as you are at riding that motorcycle,” I say quietly.

  He is stalking toward me, grinning and determined.

  “You know,” he says, “I think we might have more fun in the back of the shop… What do you say? Care to join me?”

  He holds out his hand, and I willingly snatch it. Before I know it, we are no longer in familiar territory.

  In the back, there are couches and beanbag chairs among many other things. One of the couches looks like it could fold out into a bed.

  “Are you going to fuck my wet pussy, baby?” I ask.

  “So hard, girl,” he growls.

  I walk toward the couches, but he stops me. This time, it is his arms wrapped around me.

  “When I’m interested in someone, I go hard,” he mutters in my ear. “We can have it be any kind of thing you want. I just want to adore your body.”

  His grip on me is strong. I touch his rough hands and stroke up his arms while he feels up and down my body. Soon, his hands wander up to my breasts, fondling them delicately.

  “I know what I want,” he says as he nibbles on my ear. “And I finish what I start…”

  I moan for him, running one of my hands up into his hair, while the other goes to the crotch of his pants.

  “Fuck me, Damon…”

  He turns me ar
ound to face him. He grabs my face in his hands and pulls me into him for a kiss. We hold our kiss for several seconds, running our hands across each other’s bodies and moaning into each other’s mouths.

  We get naked quickly and are on the couch in less than a minute. We are too impatient to turn the couch into a bed, but we don’t need to for our purposes. I just want his hard dick inside me, pounding into me.

  I lay back on the couch, sitting on the edge with my legs spread. With his hands on my legs, he easily slides his rod deep into my wet pussy. Just the insertion alone is enough to send me into an unfamiliar realm of pleasure.

  “That feels so good…” I tell him. “Don’t stop…”

  Damon fucks me with his cock so good. Not only does he not stop, but he refuses to slow down. He mercilessly pounds into me, digging his dick deeper with each thrust.

  “Don’t stop!” I beg. “Just like that…! Yes!”

  None of it’s exaggerated, and I am not bellowing for his benefit. He is giving me pleasure unlike any kind I’ve ever experienced before. It’s something I didn’t even know existed—usually I can’t achieve an orgasm through sex alone, but this time—

  “Damon—fuck!”

  I am cumming for him, and he continues to drill into me aggressively and powerfully.

  “St-stop!” I stammer. “Baby—stop!”

  My vagina has become incredibly sensitive, more sensitive than it has ever felt before. Each thrust he gives me also provides a rush I’ve never felt before. I don’t think I’m going to survive. His loving is too good for my own good.

  Then, just as the odds are about to be defied again, he turns me over. I am bent over for him, hands on the couch, ass in the air.

  He puts one hand on my ass, one hand on my chest, and his cock is back in my cunt.

  But before he can even pinch my nipples, I can feel myself creaming on his pole once again. I scream, moaning louder than ever before. I wonder if anyone else outside of Raw Wheels can hear me.

  Damon’s speed begins to intensify. With his dick burrowing deeper into me, his hands frantically moving all around my body, and his balls slapping against my thighs, I know that if Miami hadn’t heard us before, they are about to…