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

by S. C. Adams

  I can feel the desire pulling us closer together as the night goes on. The music is getting louder, the place is packed, and all I want is for us to get out of there and for him to show me more of what he is capable of.

  “If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?” I ask Damon.

  He ponders for a few seconds. “Don’t know. I like it here in Miami.”

  “Oh,” I laugh. “I mean, I like Miami, too.”

  “Where would you go if you could? West Coast? New York?”

  “If I could go anywhere in the world right now?” I say. “In that case… boy, take me back to the back of that shop and hit it from the back. Aye!”

  As I roar with laughter at what I think is the funniest thing ever apparently, I feel Damon’s hands running delicately up and down my legs. His eyes stay locked with mine, but his hands have definitely started an exploratory committee.

  “Before I do any of that, I want to eat that fine pussy with my tongue first,” says Damon.

  Chills go up my back, and I can feel my laced undergarments begin to moisten.

  “If you want it, come and get it,” I say, licking my lips.

  We are both too drunk to drive, so we hop in the back of a cab together. He gives the driver an address I don’t recognize, and before I know it, his hands have returned to my legs. He is running his fingers up and down my skin, and I respond to his touch, once again.

  “I can’t believe we ran into each other like that,” I chuckle awkwardly.

  “I would never have guessed something like that would happen,” he agrees. “Never in a million years.”

  “Are we going back to Raw Wheels?” I wonder. “I drove there—I don’t think the address you gave him is…”

  “No, my beauty,” he says quietly in my ears. “We’re going to my house.”

  I start to run my hands across his face, feeling his soft facial hair under my fingers.

  “Unless you’d rather not,” he adds.

  “No, I want to go to your house… Take me to your place,” I say.

  “It’ll be my pleasure, milady…”

  With that, we can no longer fight the force that is pulling us together. We are kissing each other like we would never be able to kiss another person again. I hunger for him, crave his lips and his saliva… I want to taste more of his fluids and see how I like them…

  I also want him to try mine… His left hand continues to stroke my legs, but his right hand surpasses my legs and finds my trembling, wet vagina. His fingers merely graze me, but even that is enough to drive me wild. Each time I feel him on me, I become wetter with desire for him, wondering what it would feel like to have his wet tongue and lips mingle with my juices. I am so fucking aroused.

  We get to his house, and it’s amazing. I am blown away before we’ve even gotten out of the cab. I am impressed by the outside alone.

  “Ordinarily I would give you the grand tour,” Damon says while looking for money to pay the driver. “But… I think we can wait for the morning for that, can’t we?”

  “I just want to be in your bed,” I say. “Take me to your bed, Damon.”

  We step out of the cab, and he takes me by the hand. We walk together toward the front door, his keys at the ready, but we don’t even make it there. It’s pathetic, but we don’t care. We make out and kiss in his front yard, our bodies performing a melody before we’ve even gotten a chance to get to his bed. I need his cock to fill me with his love.

  6

  Damon

  Noelle and I are in each other’s arms, holding and kissing differently than we did before. Once we finally make it into the house, we scurry directly to my bedroom, both ready to be out of our Friday-night clothes and to tangle in the sheets in a bout of hot passion.

  I haven’t even closed the bedroom door before she is reaching around me, unbuckling my pants. I turn around, allowing her to remove my pants.

  “Oh my,” she says, noting the growing bulge in my boxers.

  “That’s all you, darlin’,” I say mischievously.

  Although I was curious what she would do with my invitation, I decide in the heat of the moment that I don’t want her going down on me when I haven’t even had a chance to go down on her yet.

  “What’s your stance on being tied up?” I ask her.

  Her eyes widen, her cheeks flush, and she bites her lip before saying, “What?”

  “We don’t have to, if you’re not comfortable with the idea,” I say in an attempt to save face. “I just… I haven’t gotten to know all of your turn-ons, so I wanted to know.”

  She considers to respond, which makes me suspect that I’ll be pleased by whatever answer she gives.

  “No pressure,” I chuckle.

  “Honestly, I’ve never been tied up before…”

  “Oh, really now?” I laugh. “So, it would be a whole new experience for you?”

  “I’ve been cuffed before,” she says, growing redder by the second. “I have a blindfold back at my place… When you say tied up—”

  “I mean tied up,” I stress. “I have some rope I could tie you up with.”

  She smiles timidly, but I can sense her intrigue. She does want to be bonded; in fact, I can see her getting more turned-on the more she thinks about it. She just needed to find the right kind of man who could properly take her on that journey.

  We take our clothes completely off, and then we resume kissing. With her in my arms, I don’t even need to tell her what to do. She lies down on the bed, legs open, arms up, ready for me. I take out a strong, sturdy bundle of rope from my closet and unravel it before tying her arms to the bedpost.

  After I pull the knot tight enough so that she will stay secured, she moans.

  “You like that?” I ask.

  “You know what you’re doing with that…”

  “You don’t know the half of it…”

  I kiss her lips again, tasting her sweet flavor on my tongue and mouth as we devour each other. Since all she can do is move her legs, she desperately tries to get at my cock in any way possible. But with my hands exploring her sexy, smooth body and our kisses getting more intense, she’s unable to maintain any sort of useful control. She is mine, and we are both going crazy over that fact.

  I moan, kissing down her body, spending some stretches of time moistening various parts of her body that I just can’t get enough of. All I have to do is breathe in her ear and I can feel her pussy tremble beneath my fingers. As I kiss her neck, she moans and tries getting her knee up to my cock so that I might go a little easier on her—she is not successful.

  Her sweet, puffy nipples feel incredible in my mouth. While I suck and feast on one, I fondle the other. She pulls on the ropes, desperately trying to use her hands.

  “You’re incredible,” she says in ecstasy.

  Then, after a short journey of kisses from her perky tits down to her belly button, I decide it’s time to get inside her.

  I already have my fingers there, but now it’s time for my mouth. I kiss her quivering womanhood, planting many more little kisses on her before ingesting her sweet nectar. I move both of my hands up to her chest, grabbing both of her breasts firmly in my hands.

  “Damon…”

  She tries to say my name again, but no words come out. Instead, her sexy mouth is agape, attempting to emit cries of bliss to no avail.

  She communicates with her body instead of her words, which is more than okay with me. I am too busy enjoying myself to form words—she tastes like honey…

  Despite the fact that my rope is never going to break, she is persistent about trying to get her arms and hands free. Meanwhile, I know that if I keep it up any longer, she is going to achieve a significant climax (if she hadn’t already).

  “Fuck me, Damon…” she says.

  “Mmm,” I hum into her lap. “You don’t want to cum…?”

  “I do—I want to cum all over that dick!” she says frantically. “Please, I want you so bad!”

  She w
rithes beneath me, grinding her cunt into my face, keeping her legs around me as best she can.

  “What are you waiting for?” she breathes. “Damon!”

  I sit up, tongue and lips glistening with her juices, ready and excited.

  “I was just about to…” she says. “Oh… how dare you.”

  “You’ve never heard of delayed gratification?” I say playfully.

  “It’s been delayed long enough!”

  I stroke my cock, getting myself good and hard for her. Just seeing her writhe on the bed in pleasure, hands tied to my bed, is enough to strengthen my erection.

  “Just fuck me already!” she begs.

  I give in and fuck her just like she asks. I feel her tighten around me almost immediately, signaling to me that she doesn’t require much stimulation from my shaft to produce the results we’re going for.

  “No way,” I laugh as I feel my dick getting wetter.

  “Don’t stop… Make me cum again, baby…”

  “As you wish,” I oblige.

  I bury myself deeper, not leaving an inch of me out. She takes all of me, from my tip all the way to my base.

  I run my hands up and down her body as I fuck her hard on my bed, rocking the mattress so hard that I’m sure it could break from our activity. I expect to burst at any moment—the lubrication from her prior climax is enough to make going in and out of her both easy and pleasurable.

  Yet, before I can fill her pussy with my cum, she beats me to it again. Our sex is responsible for bringing her to orgasm once again, and she has yet to take my cream filling.

  “Again?” I chuckle with pride. “Should I stop before we push our luck?”

  “No… keep fucking me, baby,” she says, giggling like she’s being tickled. “Do you want me on top now…?”

  Without words, I pull out so that I can flip her over. Her hands are still tied, bound and fastened to my bedpost; she moans and coos for me, even before she knows fully what’s coming for her.

  I bend her over so that her ass is now up and her pussy is spread wide for me. It’s beautiful, sweet and pink.

  This time, I slowly insert my dick into her, wondering if the change in speed would be enough to drive her wild yet again before I can empty my contents inside her warm and welcoming orifice.

  I smack her ass each time I’m ready to increase the speed. Each time, she is more than responsive. If anything, she likes the spanking. She not only moans for me, but she backs her ass up into me, too.

  “Bad girl…” I growl under my breath.

  “You like when I back my ass up on you…?”

  “More than you know,” I respond, leaning down to kiss her neck while I thrust deeper into her.

  I give her a reprieve, untying the rope from the bedpost. She can move, but she is in no way free. I keep the rope held in my fist, like she’s an animal on a leash. It almost isn’t a metaphor—she is a raw, sexy beast.

  I spank her fine ass with my hands, and sometimes I whip it swiftly with the tied end of my rope. Everything I’m doing is precisely what she needs.

  She lets out a cry of pleasure so loud that it shakes the walls. We come hard together, marrying our fluids poetically.

  I’m not sure how long we go on for, but we don’t stop with just a single tryst. We have sex well into the night, ringing in the weekend perfectly. Our positions vary, and I’m not sure what time it is when we finally do pass out in bed together, exhausted and spent. But it is possibly one of the greatest nights of lovemaking I’ve ever had in my life. Even after many hours of diligent drilling, it still doesn’t feel like enough…

  7

  Noelle

  The sun hits my eyes like a bully, blinding me completely. I’m trying to wake up, but it takes me several seconds to remember where I am.

  I turn and face the other way, suddenly very aware of where I am and who I’m with—the man who is quickly disproving my working theory that I would never meet a man who actually knew a woman. Damon Abrams is far more than just a gang leader or businessowner; he’s a love machine.

  He snores, not loudly or disruptively, but like a low-powered box fan. It’s lulling, relaxing… He very nearly puts me back to sleep just seeing him in such a deep slumber.

  Then, I really start waking up. It takes me a second to even remember the day… Saturday morning. My phone isn’t anywhere near me, so I can’t discern the time precisely, but I know it can’t be before 9:00.

  Usually, a guy would come home with me and then he was out before the sun was even up. It’s uncharacteristic of me to have spent the night; I was under the impression that most (if not all) men didn’t want to risk having the girl stay over and risk having a temporary roommate. Of course, Damon isn’t “most men.”

  Finally, he wakes up. He turns around, eyes barely open, a smile forming on his face when he sees me. I’ve learned that his smile is contagious.

  “Morning,” he mutters.

  “Hi,” I say, trying not to look like a schoolgirl head over heels.

  He surprises me again by kissing my lips good morning. Soft, sweet, able to be savored.

  “Listen, I’m sorry,” I begin nervously. “I didn’t mean to spend the night. I just… it was late, and we’d been drinking—”

  “No need to apologize,” he assures me. “You’re more than welcome to crash after a night like last night.”

  We both giggle impishly and resume our kissing. The sheets are tangled all around our bodies, which prevents us from getting a good hold on each other. It’s probably a good thing; otherwise, we might end up resuming last night’s activities as well, and then we might not ever make it out of the bedroom…

  “So, you have girls fall asleep with you often?” I ask.

  “Not at all, actually,” he chuckles. “I’ve never had a girl stay the night after like that before.”

  “Wow,” I say, slightly embarrassed. “I am really sorry.”

  “I’m telling you, stop saying you’re sorry,” he reiterates. “It’s okay, there’s no rush. Charge your phone if you need to.”

  I look around the room, searching for my various items of clothing that didn’t stay on long the night before. I know my phone is somewhere in the pile of clothes on the floor, but I don’t want to get out of bed.

  After many minutes of silence, each of us waiting for the other to speak, I finally get out of bed, untangling the sheets from my limbs. I scramble around, first seeking out my undergarments, but I’m moving slowly.

  Damon’s eyes open wider once he realizes what I’m missing.

  “I don’t know what’s more fun,” he chuckles. “Taking your clothes off or watching that perfect body trying to put them back on.”

  “Whatever,” I scoff. “I look good, but I’m not perfect.”

  “I don’t know… from where I am right now, you look like a work of art to me.”

  “You’re just saying that because I had sex with you,” I tease. “And because I’m naked.”

  “All of those things might be true, but what I’m saying is true, too,” he retorts. “I’m incredibly lucky to get to gaze at a woman like you.”

  Just as I find my bra at the foot of the bed, it hits me: none of this feels awkward at all. Damon also doesn’t just seem chill—he is chill, happy to be exactly where he is in that moment. I deliberately take my time to get dressed now, hoping that I might excite him. I like seeing him get worked up.

  “Got anything planned today?” I ask.

  “Not sure,” he replies. “When you own the shop, you can afford to miss a weekend every now and then. I don’t really have to do anything.”

  I suddenly feel the need to quickly get dressed. Grabbing the remainder of my clothes off the floor like a bulldozer, I flee from the bedroom in search of the nearest bathroom.

  I lock the bathroom door behind me after I finally find solitude. I just need a moment alone to compose myself. I’m not sure why the idea of staying longer scares me, but before the morning ended, I would have my reas
ons figured out.

  I stay in the bathroom for a while, playing on my phone to distract myself and to avoid making a decision on what I’m going to do with my Saturday. My decision regarding the morning, it seems, is being decided for me, though.

  The smell of breakfast being made in the kitchen wafts through the whole house. Eventually, the aroma is enough to entice me out of the bathroom and face the potential awkwardness.

  “So, what’s going on up in here?” I ask stupidly.

  “Hey!” Damon says from the stove. “I’m making coffee and breakfast. Do you want any?”

  “Uh… sure,” I answer.

  I consider joining him in the kitchen to assist, but I opt to sit at his kitchen table instead. I have to admit, I’m somewhat in awe of a man who knows how to cook. None of my boyfriends ever went into the kitchen—even with my “friends with benefits”—the best they could ever do was pick up food that was already made or ask me to make them something.

  “How do you like your eggs?” Damon asks while pouring the coffee.

  “I’m fine with however you’re having them.”

  “Scrambled it is. Do you take anything in your coffee?”

  “Just sugar. I can make my coffee,” I say, suddenly feeling guilty. “What am I doing just sitting here?”

  Just being physically close to Damon is turning out to be a mistake. As I add the appropriate amount of sugar to my mug, I can feel his warmth emanating onto me, and he isn’t even touching me. But us standing inches apart is like two magnets only inches apart—the gravitational pull is strong.

  “You’re not a vegetarian or vegan, are you?” Damon asks. “I mean, I guess if you’re eating eggs, you ain’t a vegan, right?”

  “I eat meat,” I laugh.

  I stir the sugar around in my cup of black coffee, fully aware that if I back my ass up, I’d probably feel Damon’s dick through his loose shorts. I decide to behave.