Nitro pulled out his wallet and threw a twenty in Digger's direction. “Fuck off, Gandalf.”
Digger laughed and gathered up his bed roll and sleeping bag. “Have fun, kids.”
As soon as the door closed again, Mouse stood. She needed to put some distance between them. Nitro leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Do I scare you that much?”
Mouse shook her head. “I'm just trying to save myself a lot of heartache. Either this is all a game to you, in which case, I end up feeling used, and I really hate feeling like that. Or—and I think this is worse—you really want this to go... somewhere.” She couldn't look at him anymore, so she turned her back to him and looked at his cut that was hanging from a hook near the door. “I'm not scared of you, Nitro, but I am scared of that.”
“Look at me, Mouse. Look me in the eye an' tell me that you ain't scared of me.” When she ignored him, Nitro stood and put his hands on her shoulders. “I came here to fuck you. Not because I'm a player, but because I can't get you out of my fucking head. I figured the only way to deal with it was to bang you.” He chuckled. “Hadn't thought much beyond that, to be honest. I guess I thought we'd either do it again, or we wouldn't. I'm not really buying this bullshit about the club, though. I know ol' ladies who would love to get out of the life, but there are plenty who love it. Same goes for the club girls; most just wanna party, but there are some that have got... issues, an' it probably ain't the best place for them.” He bent and whispered in her ear. “Is that what this is all about, huh? You got issues?”
“I've got more issues than you can shake a stick at, biker boy.” She spun around to face him. “Number one is macho arseholes who think that a fuck fixes everything.”
He grinned. “What can I say? I'm a romantic guy.”
He was going to kiss her now. He was going to cup her face in his hands and kiss her....
Forehead.
Fuck.
“Go to bed, Mouse. If it's okay with you, I'll crash on the sofa till morning. I'll be outta your hair, first thing.”
He was so close to her, she could feel the heat from his body. Mouse closed her eyes. “I do like you.”
“I know. I like you, too.” His thumb ran across her cheek. “Weird, huh?”
5
Nitro grunted and opened his eyes as his leg, wallet and cell were dumped on his chest. Mouse slapped his legs off the sofa and sat down. “Rule one: Do not leave your crap all over the floor. I don't want to break my neck if I need to go out for a piss in the middle of the night.”
“Er... okay.” He sat up and ran his hand across his head. “What time is it?”
“Late...early...not sure. You want coffee or tea, or something?”
“Coffee. An' I need to piss.”
“The toilet is behind the bus with a rainbow on the side—there's a bucket of ash by the door, sprinkle some on it when you're done. Or go behind a tree.” She grinned as he started to put on his foot. “I think I might have to make a concession about pissing in a bucket at night—attaching a leg to go to the loo seems a bit inconvenient. But don't tell Digger.”
“Er, okay.” Had he missed something? Had Mouse been stolen by body snatchers in the night? Was she now an Anarchist version of a Stepford wife? “What's going on, Mouse?”
She shrugged. “Not sure... I think we're going to fuck.” She frowned. “Why do you wear a sock on that foot?”
“To keep it warm. Are we going to fuck now?”
Mouse pulled a face. “No, we're going to have a brew, then we're going to talk, then we'll fuck.” She smiled. “Maybe.”
There was a part of him that wanted to grab his cut and get his ass out of there. She was gonna start making demands of him, and Nitro wasn't good with women making demands. His cock, however, pointed out that there was a good chance he would get a fuck. And those bare legs were just begging to be wrapped around his waist, and her pert little tits under that baggy tee shirt definitely needed further investigation.
As he stomped across the camp towards the nearest tree, he became aware of Digger watching from the back of a Land-Rover. The old hippie grinned. “Not planning on running out on her, are ya?”
“Nope.” Which was probably the biggest mistake he could ever make.
“Good, cos Mouse don't need some piece of shit fucking things up for her.” Digger was no more than a bag of bones, but the warning was loud and clear. “There's a soft heart under all those prickles, mate. Don't take a lot to send her spinning.”
~oOo~
She'd gotten dressed by the time he returned. Swallowing his disappointment, Nitro sat down and waited for her to join him. “Don't suppose we could fuck first and talk after?”
Mouse put a mug on the chest and shook her head. “I need you to know what a big deal this is.”
Since when was a fuck a big deal? “Okay.”
She examined a fingernail. “I haven't slept with anyone for nearly five years.
“Okay.”
“Don't you want to know why?”
Of course he didn't. The last thing he needed to hear was how she'd been fucked over by some asshole who'd screwed her up so much that it had left her frigid. He didn't want to be the one to break her self-imposed celibacy; that was way too much responsibility. Maybe he could manage to get his ass out of there and still make it look like he was being noble.
Of course his cock was reminding him of just how tight her pussy would be, and his ego was practically fucking crowing. “I guess.”
“Don't look so worried, Nitro. I just... There's something...” Mouse tapped her forehead and laughed. “I have issues.”
“With sex?”
“With people.”
“Shame, cus I was gonna suggest we could work on your issues in bed. I don't wanna blow my own trumpet, but I know some moves.” He grinned. “Can't cure you of people, though.”
“You really are incorrigible.”
Nitro felt his grin widen. “Yup.”
“And you're arrogant.”
“Uh huh.”
“Pretty sure you're sexist.”
He gave a facial shrug.
“You're a fucking biker... A one percenter, for God's sake.” She sighed. “And you like Guns N' Roses.”
“So you've listed the pros, what are the cons?”
He'd expected her to laugh, but she looked disappointed. “Is everything a joke to you?”
“Do you always take life so seriously?”
She stared at him for an impossibly long time. “Why do I like you?”
Nitro was getting tired of this. Either they were going to fuck or they weren't. He had better things to do than discuss fucking feelings with a neurotic little punk. “Dunno what you want me to say, Mouse. I take a lotta stuff seriously.”
Actually, that wasn't entirely true.
Among his brothers, he had a reputation for being impulsive and unreliable. He'd never make officer, wouldn't even be considered as an enforcer. He'd joined to ride and party. He made up the numbers if there was trouble that needed settling—he enjoyed a good brawl—had a decent knowledge of explosives, and wasn't afraid to put himself in the line of fire if he had to. But he'd never be privy to the internal politics that took place in church, and honestly, he didn't care.
Life was tough enough, and Nitro saw no point in denying himself the few pleasures that presented themselves.
She was still waiting for an answer. This was a big deal for her. “I don't know why you like me, Mouse. But you do, an' I like you. You either take a chance or you don't.”
And then she kissed him.
~oOo~
Nitro pulled her closer and kissed her back, except that what he was doing couldn't ever be called a kiss. Mouse knew she had a voice of reason somewhere, but if it was shouting at her, she couldn't hear it. It was buried deep, drowned out by the tingle of Nitro's lips and the brush of his beard as he kissed his way down her neck. It was silent as she pushed her hands up under his t-shirt, and ran her pa
lms over his pecs. Jesus, the man felt like he was carved from marble. His teeth grazed over her collar bone, and she knew that even if she could hear that voice telling her that this was a bad idea, she'd ignore it.
Nitro pulled away. “If you have any doubts about this, you have to tell me now.” She probably would have said something, had she not been robbed of the power of speech. “I mean it.” He continued his assault on her neck. “We're getting real close to the point of no return.” She opened her mouth... nope, still struck dumb. Maybe she could push him away... once her hands had finished their exploration of his beautifully defined chest. And it wasn't as though she was capable of coherent thought right now. Somehow, this man—this beautiful, macho arsehole—was making her stupid. Mouse gasped as a large, rough hand cupped her tit.
“Tell me to stop, Mouse.”
Her body was acting independently. She was sure she hadn't told it to climb onto his lap, and she hadn't been aware of her hands moving from his chest, so that her fingers could thread themselves through his thick, black hair. She was aware of his hands, though, as they slid down to her hips, was aware of his mouth on hers... and his thick cock, still restrained in his jeans, as her own body moved against it of its own accord, grinding, seeking relief in frustratingly vague friction. Five years was a long time, and her body wasn't prepared to be denied any longer. Mouse surrendered as he pulled her tee shirt over her head and turned his attention to her tits. They felt swollen and heavy, and when he nipped at her nipple with his teeth, it was like they were filled with sparks. She needed them to be naked, needed to see him in all his glory... to feel his skin against hers.
“Nitro...” Was that her voice? “Oh, God. Nitro.”
Her nipple was between his teeth, and as much as she didn't want him to stop, she really, really needed him to be naked. “Stop.. Wait... I...” Can't string together a sentence.
She pushed herself away from him, stood up and managed to gasp, “Too many clothes.”
Nitro didn't need telling twice. He grinned at her request. That smile made her stomach flip. She didn't need to be thinking about that, so she distracted herself by stripping as quickly as she could, before common sense overrode her hormones. Oh, sweet Jesus. Mouse blinked at the vision of naked perfection that was standing in front of her. She reached out and ran her fingers across the intricate patterns that decorated his chest, then pushed him back onto the sofa and climbed back onto his lap. She was impatient now that there were no barriers.
“Hey, hey. Slow down, darlin'.” Nitro grabbed her wrist as her hand worked its way down to his cock. “We've got all the time in the world.”
No, they didn't. All they had was this moment. Mouse leaned closer and kissed him. “Don't wanna wait, biker boy.”
Something about his laugh turned her insides to jelly. He groped around for his wallet and pulled out a condom. With his eyes never leaving hers, he rolled it on, then leaned back and slid his arms along the back of the sofa. “Okay then, punk. Pogo on this.”
She didn't need telling twice.
~oOo~
Fuck. What was it about this girl? Nitro couldn't drag his eyes from her as she eased herself onto his cock. He fought not to close them at the perfect feeling of her tight, hot pussy as she slid into place. He wanted to see her, he didn't want to miss a moment.
And then she began to move.
The more he got to know her, the more beautiful she became. Shit, he could fall hard for this one. She seemed to think that this was a one-off... that they'd never repeat this. But she was wrong. He groaned and fought the urge to thrust—he was determined to let her take the reins. He wasn't sure why it was so important, and he fully intended to fuck her stupid at some point in the near future. But for now, Nitro was happy to sit back and let Mouse call all the shots. Hell, he would let her call the shots whenever she wanted, because he swore he would never find another woman who fitted him as well as she did. She was gripping him so goddamn hard, and she was so fucking slick.
“Mouse...” He was going to come, and he really didn't want to come. He wanted this moment to last forever. “Slow down, baby. I don't wanna...” It should have been impossible, but she tightened around him even more. She moaned, a deep, earthy sound, as if moving on him was the best feeling in the world, ever. Oh, fuck. He was definitely gonna come.
He needed her to be ready, he needed her to be there, because he sure as hell was, and he couldn't hold on any longer. He ran his hands along her thighs towards her clit. When he rubbed a thumb over that hard little nub, her body jack-knifed and jolted.
“Oh yeah, baby. That's it. Come for me.”
~oOo~
Mouse was lost. All vestiges of her were gone. All that was left were sensations, and an increasing heat that was building and spreading from her core to every part of her body.
She was fucking Krakatoa, and she was going to blow.
She knew he was holding back, and the sight of him fighting to contain himself as she rode him almost tipped her over the edge. The strain in his voice when he spoke, the way he watched every move she made, his fingers gripping the back of the sofa...
And then those fingers found another use, and she erupted.
And then she was sobbing, and he was holding her against his chest, and stroking her hair.
Fuck.
Mouse sniffed and tried to wriggle out of his arms, but he tightened his hold on her. “You're something else, Mouse.”
So was he.
She wriggled again, and this time he let her go. “I think you should go.”
He stood and laid his hand on her cheek. “No you don't.” He inclined his head toward her bed. “How about we make ourselves comfortable, an' I can make you cry again.”
6
Nitro was in love.
It probably happened sometime around round two, or maybe when she said fucking him was like fucking Jesus. Or maybe when she gave him the best blowjob ever, or even when discovered her toy box in the corner of the sleeping area.
Whatever the reason, right now, Nitro loved Mouse.
He wouldn't tell the little girl who was currently sitting cross-legged at the bottom of the bed, examining his foot, but not because he was freaking out about it. He knew he was unusual, but he fell in love all the time. It was a standing joke with his brothers, just how often he'd throw himself into relationships, but, as far as he was concerned, being in love was great. The trick was to get your ass outta there as soon as the fun stopped.
He wasn't freaking out, but Mouse would lose her shit.
She frowned. “Don't you need to operate brakes or a clutch or something? How do you push your foot down?”
“I don't. My bike's been adapted.”
“Ah, yeah. Of course.” She turned it over. “Do you trip over? It must be weird not being able to feel your foot.”
“Not often. I guess I'm used to it.” He raised himself on his elbows. “You got any food? I'm pretty hungry.”
“There's some of yesterday's stew in the pot on the cooker. You can heat that up if you like.” She grinned. “Hop to it, biker boy.”
“Funny.”
“I thought so.” She abandoned his leg and crawled back to his end of the bed. “How did you lose it?”
Nitro pulled her into his arms. “Which answer do you want? The one that gets me laid, or the truth?”
“Both. Arsehole version first.”
“Usually, I say that it happened in Afghanistan. Chicks dig injured Marines.”
She stiffened. “You were a marine?”
“Nah. I've only got one foot.”
“So, how did you lose it.”
“Got run over by a drunk driver when I was fifteen. My foot and ankle were crushed, an' didn't heal right. I put up with it for a couple of years, but I couldn't do shit, so it had to go.”
“And now you use it to guilt-trip people, and get laid.”
“Pretty much.”
“You really are an arsehole, biker boy.”
He
was definitely in love with her. “I prefer opportunist.”
~oOo~
If someone had told her that there would be a naked biker hopping around her van, quoting Alan Moore, and looking for all the world like a muscle-bound, monoped messiah, Mouse would've thought they were tripping. And if they'd said that she would be watching, and trying to figure out how she could make a relationship work with him, she would have been sure they were.
But there was. And she was.
He would drive her nuts. He was too... Fuck, he was too everything. Everything was a joke to him, and, because he wasn't a stupid man, that annoyed her. He was playing fast and loose with her feelings—she'd told him that this was a big deal, but had brushed it aside, and ploughed ahead regardless. Although, she had to take some responsibility for that.
He liked Guns N’ Roses.
She should get rid of him now, before it was too late.
“Nitro.”
He ignored her and lifted the lid of the stewpot. He pulled a face. “You got anything else?”
“Nitro, I...”
“Jesus, Mouse.” He looked up. “I've just spent the last few hours having some of the best sex I've ever had. I'd kinda like to enjoy the moment. Do we have to start with the fucking talking again?”
She sighed and climbed down the ladder. “There are some chocolate digestives in the cupboard, and Digger usually has some crisps stashed somewhere. I need to get some water. Help yourself to whatever you can find.” Mouse pulled on her clothes and opened the door. “I won’t be long.”
Mouse stepped outside and took a deep breath. Maybe after a walk to the spring, she'd have rehearsed the words enough for her to sound convincing when she told him she wanted him to leave.
Of course, first she had to do the walk of shame. She squared her shoulders and walked towards a grinning Digger, who'd clearly bummed his lunch from Meg. “Don't say a word.”
Digger patted to the empty chair next to him and held out his plate. “Here, there's some left.”
Mouse dropped the water containers and sat down. “I fucked a biker, Digs.”
Itinerant Child Page 4