Finley seemed okay as we left the bar, but my Rabbit could put on a front, I wouldn’t know the damage for sure until I got her alone. If Zero’s Hulk-out moment freaked Rabbit out and cost me pussy tonight, I really would kill him.
Rabbit gripped me tighter as we banked left, merging onto the freeway. I’d been worried she was too drunk to get on the back of my bike, but I should’ve known better. It’d take more than a few drinks to keep my Rabbit from jumping at the opportunity to ride.
Yesterday, I’d asked Risa to start working on a design for Rabbit’s first bike. I wanted it to be a surprise so I planned on carving out time when I could to work on it. It wouldn’t be quick, but I figured I’d be able to have it finished in time for our first wedding anniversary. Until she had her own ride though, she was on the back of mine.
Taking the exit to the compound, I slowed to a stop at the light.
“I don’t want to go back yet,” Rabbit shouted over the rumble of the engine.
“Where do you want to go?” I called over my shoulder.
Her hands tightened over my abs, and I felt her tuck her face into my back. “Our spot,” she said, snuggling closer.
A grin tugged at one side of my mouth. As corny as it was, I loved that we had a spot. “You want tacos, too?”
Rabbit froze, every spot where we were touching went utterly still. I thought something was wrong until she let out a squeal. “This is why I’m marrying you!” She started giggling, only coming up for air as the light turned green and I hooked a left instead of the usual right. “I’m marrying the taco man!” She screamed into the night.
Definitely too drunk.
Despite all odds, Rabbit managed to stay upright the whole ride, even if her reaction time was a little slow. The evening air cooled slightly as we drove up the switchbacks to the top of the butte.
As usual, there wasn’t anyone around when I pulled the bike off the main road and parked at the outlook. The secluded spot offered gorgeous panoramic views of the city below. The first time I took Rabbit here was the night I realized I didn’t want to live without her. It seemed fitting we’d end up in the same spot the night before our wedding.
We both climbed off, and I unclasped the saddle bag, handing Rabbit the food we’d picked up at her favorite taco truck on the way up. Taking out the blanket I kept in my bag for this exact purpose, I folded it over the metal guardrail and helped my soon-to-be wife step over the barrier.
Powell Butte had become our escape without either of us realizing it. Maybe because it was the only place we could truly be alone, but whenever something big was going on, we found ourselves here. It was like we were subconsciously checking in with each other without all the distractions of life.
The past month we’d both been pulled in a million directions, but I thought we were handling it pretty well, considering.
“Can you believe we’re getting married tomorrow?” Rabbit asked once we’d settled on the railing.
My eyes flicked up to look at her as I unpacked the food. She was smiling, so she must not have meant that to sound as ominous as it did. “Gettin’ cold feet on me, babe?”
She shoved at my shoulder and shook her head, laughing. “Of course not. I’m all in, remember?”
“Yeah, you are,” I said, shooting my hand out to grab the front of her leather jacket and tug her toward me. I couldn’t seem to keep my hands off her when she wore that jacket—the one with the Property of Baz bottom rocker. It was hot as fuck.
My mouth covered hers and I ran the tip of my tongue over the seam of her lips, already seeking entrance. She didn’t hesitate to open and lean into me as I deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth. Nipping at her lower lip, I broke the kiss before it could turn into anything more.
I stayed close though, letting my forehead rest against hers. This moment was perfect, and I wanted to commit it to memory. I wanted this to be one of those moments I told our grandkids about. Maybe I’d leave out the hot as fuck part, though.
Everything around us could be a chaos of flames, but we would always be the constant, as long as we were together, the rest of the world could burn around us.
“Tacos,” I said, cracking a smile and putting an end to the moment.
Rabbit snorted and pulled away. “Yeah, what are you trying to do, starve me? You better hand over my tacos before we have problems, Mr. Bassett. Happy wife, happy life. Remember that, it’s gonna be your mantra for the next fifty years.”
“Only fifty, Mrs. Bassett, really?” I asked, handing her a taco from the bag and pulling one out for myself.
She shrugged as she unwrapped her food. “I’m only making a fifty-year commitment, gonna have to see how you hold up before I consider extending. You know, kick the tires a bit.”
God, I loved her attitude.
“Keep talkin’ like that, and I’m gonna have to show you why I ain’t givin’ you up—even fifty years from now,” I warned.
“You can’t get between a girl and her tacos, that’s strictly forbidden,” she said on a laugh.
I tilted my head to the side, examining her closely. “Did you just forbid me?” I asked, just as she dipped her head and opened her mouth to take her first bite.
Rabbit stilled, her eyes going wide. “I—Uh, I said it was forbidden. Technically, I didn’t directly—”
I moved fast, too fast for her alcohol soaked brain to react. Snatching the taco from her hand, I tossed it in the bag and set it at her feet before pulling her close. We picked up the kiss from earlier with zero hesitation and even more urgency than before.
Sliding my palms down her sides, I followed the flare of her hips. Reaching around, I got a grip on her ass and hauled her onto my lap. I thanked God for miniskirts as my hands found their way underneath the stretchy material. Rabbit’s fingernails raked over my scalp sending a shiver down my spine and a rush of blood straight to my dick.
My fingertips had just reached the edge of her damp panties when she mumbled the single hottest sentence I’d ever heard.
“On the bike. Please, I want it on the bike,” she whimpered against the skin at my neck, even as she ground herself against the bulge in my jeans.
I didn’t need to be told twice.
“Legs, babe,” I instructed as I stood. Rabbit followed orders automatically, wrapping those long legs around my waist.
Keeping a firm grip on her ass, I made my way to the bike. Hooking a leg over, I settled us onto the seat and immediately went to work on Rabbit’s clothes. Her jacket and shirt were the first things that needed to go. I wanted to see those full tits bouncing in my face while she rode my cock.
I roughly shoved her jacket down her arms and immediately did the same to her shirt and bra, not even stopping when I heard the sound of tearing fabric. I needed her skin, now. I needed to be inside her, feel her, fucking taste her. Nothing else registered, just her.
Rabbit’s hands jerked at my belt and jeans, her movements just as rough and needy as mine had been. In no time at all, she’d freed me from my jeans and had her fingers wrapped tightly around my shaft. She squeezed me as she stroked up and down, coaxing a bead of precum from the tip. My fingers dipped under the fabric of her thong, and I circled her opening, teasing. Not to be outdone, Rabbit caught the wetness at my tip on her next upstroke and used it to slick her way up and down, gripping me a little tighter each time.
“Not fair,” I growled, pushing her hand out of the way.
No matter how many times I had her, it was never enough. Breathing in her scent, I licked a trail up her neck. She moaned into the night air. Her perfect tits illuminated only by the stars and moon. In less than twenty-four hours this woman would be my wife—she’d have my last name. She’d be mine.
Fuck that’s hot.
Unable to wait any longer, I pulled Rabbit’s lace thong to the side and lifted her hips, positioning myself at her entrance. She sank down, her breath hitching as she took my cock—all of it, inch by inch. Her body trembled as she hit bottom, her slick
heat gripping me so hard I let out an involuntary gasp of my own. I’d never get tired of the way her body responded to me, how warm and wet, every time with her was better than the last.
Rabbit must’ve been getting impatient because she started to move, rocking her hips and grinding her clit against my body, searching for friction. Hands splayed on her bare backside, I encouraged her to pick up the pace, groaning into her neck as we fell into a rhythm. Dotting kisses along her supple skin, I made my way down her chest, taking her left nipple between my sharp teeth before soothing away the sting with my tongue. She responded instantly, her internal muscles contracting and squeezing tight around me.
“You like that?” I asked, snaking a hand between us to wrap my fingers around her throat.
Her breath caught, and I felt a surge of wetness coat my cock. “Yes,” she gasped, struggling to take a breath as I squeezed harder.
Her eyes rolled back, and I eased my grip, a faint smirk playing on my lips. My Rabbit liked playing on the edge of danger—she didn’t just like it, she got off on it—the more pain, the sweeter the pleasure.
Letting my palm slide from her throat, I splayed my hand between her breasts and guided her backward so that she was laid out on the gas tank. Her tight nipples pebbled in the cool night air and I couldn’t help but lean down for another taste.
When I had her panting and squirming, I straightened, taking in the sight of her milky white skin splayed out before me. Rabbit must’ve seen something in my expression because her eyes lit with fire and a mischievous smile spread across her face. She knew what came next. Hell, she knew me—inside and out.
“Hold on,” I said, gripping her hips.
Rabbit followed instruction without question, reaching up to wrap her hands around the handlebars. I pulled out of her heat and surged forward, using the leverage I had on her hips to slam home. Her mouth fell open on a silent gasp, but I didn’t let up, driving into her again and again at a relentless pace.
The world around us blurred and faded away. It was just us—me and my woman, my old lady, and soon, my wife.
Leaning forward, I curled my hands up and over her shoulders, the new angle allowing me to get even deeper. Her hot breath against my ear sent a chill down my spine, and I doubled my efforts, fucking hard into her tight, wet channel.
“Fuck! Micah,” she panted, digging her heels into my ass to spur me on.
I didn’t need the help, hearing my real name spill from her pretty pink lips was enough to have me pounding into her like it was my fucking job.
Rabbit’s keening got louder, her back arching off the tank as she screamed her release into the darkness. Her walls gripped me almost unbearably tight, and I had no choice but to follow her off the edge, spilling everything I had into her body.
Resting my head between Rabbit’s breasts as we both came down, I fought to catch my breath. This was heaven. I felt a genuine smile tug on my lips as I realized we had a lifetime of moments like this to look forward to.
Just me and my woman. My own personal Jessica Rabbit.
How did a son of a bitch like me get so fucking lucky?
THREE
HARLEY
Baz and Finley’s wedding had been short and sweet, a simple ceremony in the side yard of the compound at sunset. It wasn’t exactly elegant and definitely not extravagant, but it worked for them. After everything they’d been through to find each other, I didn’t blame them for rushing to the altar. They were happy, and I was glad for them, even though it reminded me how miserable my life had become.
Sitting back in my lawn chair, I listened to the hum of the party around me, tuning into the conversation every so often. Par for the course of any club party, the boys had built up a bonfire on the blacktop, and the remaining guests had congregated in little clusters around it.
“FUCK YEAH!”
My head snapped to the side at the sound of the shout just in time to see Butter; a recent prospect turned full-patched member—bare-assed except for his cut and boots—sprinting across the blacktop.
“What in the actual fuck?” My father said, pushing up from his seat. It was painful to watch, his stiff movements, the way the dark circles under his eyes seemed to grow with each day. He was wasting away right in front of us, and there was nothing we could do about it.
Butter made a full loop around the bonfire before sprinting for the clubhouse. Taking the steps to the back deck two at a time he continued running in circles and screaming. Our group watched in horror as he started humping one of the outdoor heaters with wild abandon.
“Crow!” Baz shouted, pointing to the scene Butter was making. “Handle it.”
Crow, the goateed brother that never took anything seriously, groaned and stomped off toward the clubhouse.
“Is he on something?” I asked, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. The side yard was dark, but the floodlights over the deck illuminated Butter’s moves all too well. As soon as he saw Crow coming up the steps, he shrieked, threw the heater to the side and started running in circles again.
“Uh, that’s probably my fault,” Baz’s dad, Rigs said, scratching his jaw. “Gave him some ‘shrooms, guess they hit ‘em hard.”
I turned back to see Butter take a wild swing at Crow while screaming something I couldn’t hear. The two danced around like boxers in a ring, Butter’s flaccid cock flapping in the breeze with every step. If it wasn’t so horrifying, it would’ve been funny.
“Jesus Christ, Pops,” Baz groaned.
Rigs clapped Baz on the shoulder and gave him a crooked grin. “Is it really a wedding until someone gets naked?”
“Baby, please,” Candy said, shooting a glare at her husband.
“Fine,” Rigs sighed, taking off at a jog to go help Crow wrangle Butter.
“Anyways,” Candy said, turning her attention back to Finley. “When am I gettin’ grandbabies?”
The question sent a line of ice down my spine. My eyes fell closed at the sudden pain, but I recovered quickly—at least on the outside. Smoothing my face into an expression of mild curiosity, I waited for Fin’s reply.
Baz let out a growl and wrapped his arms around his new wife from behind. “As soon as she’ll let me,” he said, nipping at her jaw.
Fin laughed and elbowed him. “We’ve got plenty of time for that once I’m done with school and The Red Rabbit Room is up and running.”
“Boo!” Candy said, throwing a bottle cap at the newlyweds.
My mother, Blondie, echoed Candy’s dismay. “But babies are so cute! And it’s not like Harley’s gonna give us a little biker baby anytime soon,” she said, cutting her eyes to me.
I tried not to let my façade crack, but I was barely holding on. “Nope,” I said, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. My eyes searched for Stella, the queen of deflection, but she was nowhere to be seen. I could’ve sworn she was sitting next to Fin just a minute ago.
Without hope for a distraction, I made a show of finishing my beer before standing up and announcing I was going to get another. My discomfort went unnoticed, and I quickly extricated myself from the little huddle.
A wedding reception was no place to start feeling sorry for myself. It was a party; the motto was eat, drink, and be merry—not depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts. I needed to get a grip. But I suppose that’s the thing about mental health issues, they’re not always subject to reason or logic.
Lucky me.
Walking around the giant bonfire, I made my way to the cooler hoping another beer would soothe my frayed nerves. My hands shook as I fumbled to remove the simple twist top. I was about to give up when a giant fist wrapped around the bottle and plucked it from my hands.
“You could just tell her,” Jester said, twisting off the cap and handing the bottle back to me.
I shook my head quickly, eyes darting anywhere but at him as my tongue poked out to wet my lower lip. It was a nervous tick—a fucking annoying one that only manifested when I was within ten feet of Jester. I hated that the
big brooding biker could send my nervous system into overdrive with a single look from those kaleidoscope eyes.
“Your eyes are wasted on a man. You know that?” I blurted out, grasping at anything to distract my mind from spiraling into the impending cave of doom.
Jester’s expression didn’t change. As always, his features were carefully blank as he stared at me for a long minute, letting my statement hang between us. I hated that he did that. Just fucking waited me out like the silence didn’t eat away at him like it did me.
I’ll just add that to the laundry list of reasons Connor Murphy is terrible for my mental health.
“They’re too pretty for a guy,” I said, crumbling under the quiet. Swallowing hard, I raked my free hand through my hair. Despite my mother’s attempt to single-handedly deplete the ozone with the amount of hairspray she used to set my curls, the summer heat had won the battle, and the once bouncy locks now fell limply around my face.
When Jester didn’t find it necessary to respond, I continued, going into full-blown ramble mode. “It’s just a waste. No guy needs multi-colored eyes and thick coal-black eyelashes. Do you know what kind of pain women suffer to get their lashes to look like that? Have you ever seen someone get lash extensions? That’s some next level sh—”
“Harley, stop,” Jester said gently, hooking a finger under my chin and forcing me to look up at him.
His voice might have been gentle, but his eyes were two probing pools of curiosity. I felt naked when he looked at me like that. Like he could see past all the bullshit to find the scary shit I tried to keep locked up tight. If he knew how dark my thoughts got, how far down the rabbit hole I allowed them to go…he’d have me fucking committed.
“Don’t,” I whispered, taking a step back and out of his reach. “We agreed.”
I could still feel his invasive gaze on me as he remained insufferably mute. At least he wasn’t spitting fire at me. I’d much prefer suffocating on the silence to the gaping wounds his razor-sharp tongue left behind.
Twisted Tales of Mayhem Page 69
