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

by S. C. Adams

  I can feel myself tightening on his shaft, and that is the catalyst. Grabbing on to my sides, he fucks me hard and starts to growl again. He is an animal, and he is ready to give me his seed.

  The feeling of his hot cum bursting into my pussy is what makes me implode. We are yelling and moaning so loud that I feel certain the walls might literally come crashing down.

  “That… wow…” he says while collecting his breath. “That… is so fucking hot…”

  “Hell yeah it is,” I say like I’m in a daze. I’m utterly spent.

  “How many times did you cum?”

  “I’m not really sure,” I say. “At least three…”

  Then, all of the sudden, we begin laughing uncontrollably. I’m not entirely sure what set it off, but neither of us question it.

  I feel quite sure that I’m laughing out of ecstasy. I know I can’t afford to appear overeager, but I know this is not going to be the only time I have Damon Abrams.

  When it’s all over and we have our clothes back on, I can’t help but feel totally satisfied. I am so glad that I gave in to him. I am just hoping that I will get another chance to give in to him someday…

  4

  Damon

  A few days have passed since Noelle and I had sex in the back of the shop. No matter what’s going on in my day, all I can think about is her.

  I am furious with myself for not getting her phone number before we parted ways. I usually always get a girl’s number after we hook up; I’m not sure what prevented me this time. I don’t know how to find her, so I am hopeful that perhaps, one day, she might return to Raw Wheels and I can get another chance to get her contact info.

  Fortunately, I had the foresight to use my charm and persuade the modeling agency’s director to send me copies of the proofs from their shoot. I didn’t charge them much to use my shop, and I’d been quite accommodating, so they are more than willing to work with me.

  I am chilling at Raw Wheels. My Rolling Heads are seated all around me. We are listening to music, smoking and drinking. Spencer, one of my guys, has one of the models from the shoot with him, a black girl named Ali.

  I am looking at the pictures, seeing how they turned out, passing them around the place to be shared and admired.

  The only photos I’m not sharing with my mates are the pictures of Noelle. They don’t deserve to gaze at the perfection I am privileged to be gawking at. She is alluring, not just in her beauty, but how her eyes remain powerful weapons even when she isn’t physically near. I catch myself staring at individual pictures for long periods of time, unable to help myself.

  I am boyishly hopeful that maybe her photos will include some of her contact information, but no. They do contain her image, though, and that’s more than enough for me. I know it’s probably perverted and wrong, but I’m going to take her photos home with me. I want to study her, learn every inch of her perfect canvas.

  I know that time will come later. Eventually, Kace rejoin the group, sitting right beside me, beaming and gleeful.

  “What are you so happy about?” I ask, returning his smile. “You look like a man who’s just had sex.”

  “Well, that’s exactly the look I’m going for,” says Kace, reclining back in his seat and cracking open a beer.

  “Oh yeah?” I quip. “Get out, man. What’s going on?”

  “I took one of the models home Sunday night,” he says, puffing his chest out. “She is quite spectacular, I have to admit.”

  “Good for you!” I say. “Which one is it?”

  “Her name’s Sabrina.”

  I laugh. “Oh, man… how about that.”

  “What?” Kace asks.

  “Well… tell me about you and Sabrina first, and then I’ll tell you my story.”

  “All right,” he concedes. “Well… there ain’t much to say, to tell you the truth. I had a lot of fun. She is fucking crazy.”

  “Yeah?” I chuckle. “How so?”

  “Dude, she wanted it up the ass,” says Kace. “She wanted it everywhere. We hooked up Sunday and again last night—and this morning.”

  “Damn, man!” I say, clapping him on the shoulder. “Way to go! So, you actually like this girl?”

  “I like to fuck her.” He shrugs. “She’s really good in bed—like really good—maybe the most I’ve ever enjoyed myself in bed.”

  “Wow, that’s high praise,” I say. “You have a list that’s pretty notorious.”

  “Be that as it may, she’s a good lay,” says Kace. “You’d like her, too. She also gives really good head.”

  “Thank you, but I’m actually on a conquest of my own,” I tell him. “I also had my way with one of the models.”

  “I knew it—which one?” Kace wonders. “Is it the redhead with the huge tits?”

  “Nope. You must not have been payin’ attention, because everyone knows who I’m after.”

  “Yeah, I guess I’m too busy wanting to slam Sabrina to notice,” he says. “Which one?”

  “Sabrina’s best friend, Noelle,” I say. “The brunette.”

  “Wow, her?” Kace gasps. “Kudos, mate. Job well done. I figured she must’ve had a boyfriend or baby daddy.”

  “She doesn’t have either, according to her,” he says. “We hooked up in the back of the shop Sunday night. It was tight.”

  “Nice,” Kace cackles. “You two hooked up since?”

  “No, I didn’t get her number,” I admit. “I don’t know why we didn’t. I guess we just got caught up in the moment, you know?”

  “I don’t know, man. I got Sabrina’s number the moment I bounced. You want me to get you Noelle’s number?”

  “I want her number bad, man,” I say. “But as tempting as it is, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I don’t want her to think I’m a creep or a weirdo.”

  “Well, is the sex good?”

  “Fuck yeah, dude!” I say. “I felt exactly how you says you felt with Sabrina. I want to call her. I want to hit her up.”

  “But?” he presses.

  “I think it would be incredibly lame and uncool to get her phone number from my friend who’s getting the number from another person whose number I don’t have. I should have gotten it before, and I missed my chance.”

  Kace downs the rest of his beer and rolls his eyes at me.

  “Yes? How am I wrong?”

  “I just think it would be incredibly disappointing if you missed out on something good,” says Kace. “Having some regular side could help you stay chill, keep you relaxed. After all, when are we not involved in sort of drama with someone.”

  “Good point,” I say. “I just don’t want to pressure her. Going through you, asking her friend for her number—she’ll feel obligated to give it to me. I want it willingly.”

  “Don’t we all,” Kace laughs. “If that’s what you want, so be it. If you change your mind, let me know.”

  “Will do,” I say. “Speaking of drama: Is it really true? Did Tom Wright seriously open up a motorcycle shop downtown?”

  Kace nods. “Nobody ever sees him there, but his name is attached to it. It’s definitely him, and he’s absolutely trying to piss you off.”

  Tom Wright is the head of a rival gang here in Miami: the Hell-Snakes. We’ve never had altercations, and the worst exchanges we share are typically just angry looks. Lately, though, tensions have been brewing.

  We can’t prove it, but we’re starting to suspect that the Hell-Snakes are contemplating moving in on our turf. They usually never ride in our part of town, and we stay out of theirs. Sometimes we can hear them in the distance as they travel across the interstate, or vice versa.

  Lately, though, Hell-Snakes are being spotted on a frequent basis at various parts of our section of Miami. They never stop their bikes, they never park and get off, and they never speak to anyone whenever they’re here.

  We don’t like it. It never seems like a careless joyride through the city—whenever one of us sees a Hell-Snake, we get the sense that he’s doing recon wo
rk. If they are indeed casing us, we know we’re going to have to act soon.

  “I’m just waiting for one of those sons of bitches to get off his bike and face us like men,” I say. “I keep thinking the day’s gonna come.”

  “I say we send a message,” says Kace. “Got something good in mind, boss?”

  “I say we need to hold off.”

  “Okay… I know I said you needed to be relaxed,” he says slowly, “but I didn’t mean that you had to ignore a threat—”

  “I’m not ignoring anything, Kace,” I assure him. “I’m being patient.”

  “I say we burn the fuckers to the ground!” Spencer calls out.

  A few of the others murmur in general agreement.

  “You’re getting too ahead of yourselves,” I say. “Maybe they’re just being dicks. There’s no reason to jump to conclusions when they haven’t even done anything yet.”

  “If they think we’re being too timid, they could strike us hard and without warning,” says Victor, one of my top guys. “I know we’ve been able to resist any bloodshed since your father passed away, but how much longer will it last? They know it’s Damon Abrams Jr. who is the head now—who has not taken a life since he took power.”

  I glance over to Kace, who is now suddenly quiet. Grimacing, I continue. “The Hell-Snakes have never done us any harm,” I say. “I’m not shooting first and asking questions later. That’s not how we do things. You guys know I’ve got your backs. Nobody’s taking what belongs to us—what you, our fathers, and our friends have worked hard to maintain. Have faith in me, fellas. Just relax.”

  I don’t think it’s going to work, but the group actually becomes pacified in that moment. I look over at Kace, who avoids my eye contact.

  “Thanks for sticking up for me, VP,” I say with a grimace.

  “What do you want me to say, man?” says Kace. “It’s like you say… our fathers worked hard to make the Rolling Heads something, and I don’t want us to ruin it.”

  “We’re not ruining anything,” I say as I pour myself a beer. “We’re excelling, and we’re only going to grow. Nobody is moving in where we live. Fuck that.”

  “Damon, I know you know what you’re doing,” says Kace. “I trust you, and so do all these other people here. But don’t be afraid to talk to me about what’s going on.”

  “No worries, man,” I say. “You want another beer?”

  As I pour him his beer, I suddenly get an idea.

  “You know what we could do,” I begin. “It’s immature, stupid… pretty much beneath us… but why don’t we go for a ride in their neck of the woods sometime? Doesn’t Tom own a few bars a few miles from here? Maybe we should stop in a few of them sometime and give them our patronage. We’ll see if we really have something to worry about then.”

  Little did I know that my plan for retaliation would actually bring me far more than answers regarding a few ornery Hell-Snakes.

  5

  Noelle

  I had a four-day workweek that began on Tuesday and is finally ending today. I woke up incredibly early the day before and got little sleep last night before waking up early again today to get back at it. My intention is to go straight from the shoot back to the apartment and catch up on sleep.

  Then, on our way back home from work, Sabrina decides to start trying to rope me in to her crazy shenanigans.

  “It’s Friday night!” she says. “You’re going to tell me after this week you don’t want to get some guy to buy you drinks all night?”

  “I would love to get drunk with you,” I begin. “But—”

  “Butts belong in a bar on Friday night, not at home!” she interrupts. “Come on—Molly and some of the other girls really wanted to go to that new place downtown, Figueroa’s. There are a ton of hot guys there with tons of money, so I hear.”

  I have been wanting to get closer to Molly and some of the other girls I work with, but I am more in favor of the principle. Whenever I actually think about spending long uninterrupted periods of time with them, I can never fully get on board with the idea. I am more into just hanging out at home with Sabrina or spending time with a guy.

  I haven’t thought about any other guy besides Damon since we’d had sex in the back of his shop. I am honestly having trouble thinking about anything else other than him. He is so hot, so tender, and so good… he knows how to please a woman. I keep replaying our night together in my head, from the motorcycle rides to the ride on his couch.

  But I can tell that Sabrina really wants to go out. Against my instincts, I relent and agree to join her and the others for their girls’ night out. I don’t intend on getting anyone to buy me drinks, but I do wonder if being around more attractive men would be enough of an antidote to break the spell I’ve been put under.

  Sabrina and I take two hours to get ready, but the time put in is worth it. We look good, and I feel great. I feel better about going out and am looking forward to the girl time.

  We head to Figueroa’s, slowly moving through the chaotic weekend traffic downtown. There are lines outside the most-known bars and clubs, some even extending out into the street. I am not sure what to anticipate for where we’re going, but I don’t care.

  We meet up with Molly and the others outside Figueroa’s. Luckily, there isn’t a line to get in or a cover charge for us.

  The place is pretty crowded inside, but there is plenty of alcohol, plenty of good music blaring on the speakers, and plenty of handsome men to ogle at from the booth we picked near the back of the place.

  We are having fun. We sit together, gossiping about work, talking about guys, staring at each other’s phones, singing along badly to the music—all while getting drunker and drunker.

  We have been having our good time for a good amount of time before a guy finally approaches our booth to offer Molly a drink. This sets off a chain reaction that eventually coalesces into something happening that I didn’t picture in my wildest fantasy.

  From where I am sitting, I can see the front door in the distance. Stepping through that door, as if I’d rubbed a magic lamp, is a group of men all wearing similar shirts and cuts. They are bikers. And not just any bikers…

  Sure enough, it is Damon, Kace, and some other bikers. They go straight for the bar, and my heart starts skipping like crazy.

  “Sabrina,” I say, gesturing toward the bar.

  She looks over to the bar, and her mouth drops. “Get the fuck out!”

  “Can you believe it?” I say in disbelief.

  “Let’s go talk to them!” says Sabrina, tugging on my wrist.

  I seldom get nervous, but I feel anxious about talking to Damon again. I honestly thought I was never going to see him again. I had only gone to Raw Wheels before for work purposes, and I don’t want to show up at his building and make him think I’m some kind of obsessed stalker. He hadn’t asked for my number, so part of me worried that he didn’t even want to see me again.

  Once our eyes met again, though, I immediately know that I have nothing to be afraid of. His smolder melts me instantly, and I am already his again.

  “Fancy seeing you ladies here tonight,” says Damon.

  He and I share a hug, embracing for several seconds.

  “This is crazy,” I reply. “What are the odds of us running into each other like this?”

  “It seems almost impossible,” says Damon. “It’s too crowded here by the bar. Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

  Damon orders us drinks and shots, carrying them from the bar over to a small table in the back big enough for just us. We sit down and take our shots in hand.

  “What are we toasting?” I ask.

  He grins. “To us finding each other again.”

  We clink our glasses together. “Cheers.”

  We down our shots. We sit there quietly for a few seconds, but it isn’t long before we return to staring at each other.

  “How is your day?” he asks me.

  I laugh. “Good! We had a shoot this morning, and it went w
ell. What did you do today? Host any other swimsuit photo shoots lately?”

  “Nah, just you guys,” he chuckles. “I may retire from the ‘model-hosting’ game. Most of my guys didn’t get much work done with you ladies taking up so much of our space and time.”

  “Well, I hope we never go back there again,” I say playfully.

  “That’s too bad,” he says. “I rather enjoyed the time we spent together at the shop.”

  “I am totally kidding,” I say. “Trust me… I loved what happened on Sunday night.”

  “Yeah?” he wonders cheerfully. “You think about it at all since it happened?”

  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it,” I admit. “I hope that doesn’t make me sound too needy or pathetic.”

  “Don’t worry,” he chuckles. “Believe me, you’re not half as bad as I’ve been with some of my boys over there.”

  I look into the crowd, but I can’t see a single member of my group or Damon’s. I wonder if maybe the guys and girls have paired up and are off having their own little adventures away from most eyes.

  “I had to buy them all drinks after how much I’ve talked my ear off about you,” says Damon. “I wanted your number… but the only way my friends thought I could get it is to have Kace text Sabrina and have her give me your number. That would have been fucked-up, right?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I would have been okay with her giving Kace my number.”

  “Ah,” he chuckles. “Well… good to know.”

  “I could go ahead and give you my number now,” I suggest. “That way you don’t have to go through two different people to get it.”

  “I don’t even want to look at my phone right now,” says Damon. “I just want to look at you. You’re finally not in my head—you’re real. We’ll get our phones out later.”

  We start talking again as if we hadn’t stopped before, and soon we’re laughing like idiots. It only get worse with each new mixed drink and shot Damon orders for me. We are both messed up, and we both know where the night is going to take us.