Fitz: Motorcycle Club Romance (Savage Saints MC Book 10)

by Hazel Parker

  And frankly, I was needing stress relief so badly that even if fucking Ben or the CEO showed up, I would have just given them the middle finger and kept fucking Fitz until I orgasmed. I needed this. I fucking needed this badly.

  Seconds after we’d fallen to the sand, we had both of our shirts off. Fitz tried to kiss me, but I pushed him back down. I unclipped my bra from behind and let it fall to the sand.

  “Holy shit,” he said, in shock at the aggressiveness I was displaying.

  “Careful what you wish for,” I said with a smirk.

  I ground on his hips for a few moments, feeling his cock hardening in his jeans. I reached down and felt the outline of it, getting aroused just thinking of that member inside of me. So long. It’s been so goddamn long.

  And now, something very big and hard is going to be inside of me. About damn time.

  I leaned forward and kissed him, but it was more like my tongue attacking his. He reached around and dug his hands down my jeans, caressing my ass. It wasn’t enough for me.

  “Slap my ass,” I demanded.

  He did. It wasn’t as hard as I was hoping for.

  “Come on, Fitz! Take me!”

  He slapped me hard. I felt it through my jeans. Now that was more like it. That was more what I was hoping for!

  I smiled as I started a trail of kisses on his lips and then down to his ears.

  “You got me like this,” I said, breathing hot air all over his ears. “And you’re not going to stop until you get me to come. You understand? You got me. Now you’re going to have to finish me...after I have you for a bit.”

  Fitz said something incomprehensible. I relished how much of a stammering idiot he was becoming. I had control over him and could do whatever I wanted.

  And we were doing it on a beach in Long Island! What more could I ask for?

  I moved my kisses down to his neck, which quickly turned into aggressive biting. So much so, in fact, that Fitz asked me to go a little bit easier. I giggled as I worked my way down to his collarbone, still biting, just at slightly less intensity.

  I did the same to his chest, his abs, and then his groin area. I reached down and hungrily ripped off his belt, pulling on it and then yanking his jeans and boxers down just enough to see the goodies. I didn’t bother to get everything off all the way—Fitz could take care of that.

  “Mmm,” I said as I rolled my hips over his balls, stroking his cock with my hands. “It’s so big, Fitz. This is going to feel so fucking good.”

  “Yeah?” he said, incapable of forming sentences any more complex than that.

  I didn’t answer him, instead pushing my legs back and coming down to his cock’s level. I started by licking my tongue from the base of his shaft up to the tip very, very slowly, delighting in his quivering. Once I got there, I wrapped my lips around it, took him in my mouth, and moved up and down him, my hands moving in sync with my mouth.

  Fitz continued to speak some incoherent rambles about how good it felt, which only encouraged me to go more and more. He tried to ask me if he could put it inside of me, but I refused to allow him to do that. It occurred to me at some point that the real joy here wasn’t the sexual pleasure, especially since he was getting all of it.

  It was the fact that I was getting to boss a man around and be in complete control of him. I had people who reported to me, but for the most part, I felt like an employee, not a woman in power. Here, though, with Fitz in my hand and in my mouth, I could do whatever I wanted to him. If I wanted him to come, I could have him shooting into my mouth in a matter of seconds. If I wanted to toy with him and stretch it out a little longer, I could do that. If I wanted to be mean—not that I did, but if I wanted to—I had many means with which to strike back.

  This feeling of control was something that didn’t come around frequently enough for me, and I was relishing the chance to do it. The fact that it was taking place on a public beach in a public setting just made it that much better. It didn’t matter what the “normal” or “appropriate” thing was. Fuck that—I was doing it my way right now.

  “Oh my God, Amelia, please, let me be inside you,” he said, begging. “Please.”

  I looked over at him with sultry eyes. I had to admit, feeling him inside me would feel quite good. And there would be a spot at which I would let him. But for now…

  “No.”

  I liked having the control and the power to say no.

  “Oh, fuck,” he said, and half-a-second later, I could feel his cock swell and start to pulse, the early warning that an orgasm was imminent.

  I was tempted to tease him and edge him, and then keep this process going, but just because Fitz was going to come here didn’t mean that we were done. Oh, no, far from it. We just weren’t going to have sex, but that didn’t mean we weren’t going to do a little more.

  “Oh, stop, please, stop,” Fitz said. “I want to be in you, Amelia!”

  That only encouraged me to go faster. I squeezed a little harder on his cock, pumped a little faster, and slurped with a little more force. Giving up, Fitz threw his head back, put his arm over his mouth, and rapidly breathed as the cum reached his tip.

  It shot out suddenly and forcefully, but it didn’t stop me. I was getting so wet from this experience of controlling Fitz’s cock. I went full force with my stroking and sucking. I wanted to drain his balls of every last bit of seed that he had in there. Every. Last. Bit.

  I did not stop when Fitz asked me to stop, much to his tortured delight. Only when I had felt that I could not suck anything more out of him did I come to a stop. When I did, I came up to him, moved his arm to the side, and kissed him passionately. I then sat up on his chest, placing my hands on him.

  “Now,” I said. “You’re going to do the same to me. You’re not going to get inside of me, but you are going to make me come. Do you understand?”

  His eyes were relaxed, and a smile was on his face. It was like asking someone high to do you a favor. But Fitz nodded as if I’d just offered his childhood self a chance to eat all the candy in the world.

  “Let’s do it.”

  I pushed against his chest, rolled to the side, and slid my jeans off. I spread my legs under the half-moon, feeling the cool ocean air brush against my wet pussy. Fitz slowly got up from the ground and crawled over to me.

  “Faster now,” I said. “I won’t be this way all night.”

  “OK, OK,” he said, still smiling from the blowjob that I had just given him.

  He pressed himself between my legs, moved his lips to my pussy, and gave a nice kiss.

  “Oh, fuck, that’s the right stuff,” I said.

  Fitz’s tongue came out next. It went up and down on my clit before making a side-swiping motion. My hands grabbed fistfuls of sand while my legs wrapped around his body, squeezing to the level of the pleasure that he gave me—and he was giving me plenty of fucking pleasure.

  My hips arched into his face as I tried to get him to put more and more pressure on. I wasn’t going to last long this round, given how long it had been since I’d even masturbated, let alone had sex, but I was not going to let the journey go by without maximum pleasure. I grabbed his hair and ran my fingers through, digging my nails into him. Fitz sounded like he was having a little trouble breathing, but that didn’t stop me. He was going to make me come on my terms.

  “So fucking good, Fitz; so fucking good.”

  I closed my eyes as the tension started to reach the point where an orgasm seemed probable. Fitz either noticed or his efforts increased in a coincidental timing, accelerating the process of orgasm. I briefly closed my eyes, looking up at the half-moon. It was so beautiful, and yet I couldn’t make out anything but the generic shape. I stared down at Fitz, who looked back at me with gleeful eyes. I tipped my head back as the orgasm began to approach.

  “Oh, shit, yes, right there, right there,” I said. “Uh, uhh, uhh….”

  It washed over me in an instant. I shoved my hips forward into Fitz’s face, bit my lip to avoid
screaming too loudly, and practically dug my nails all the way into his skull. I had all but forgotten the intensity with which I orgasmed, and it hit me like a head-on collision on the highway.

  I had to shove Fitz away at one point because the pleasure was so overwhelming. I took several seconds to gather myself, catching my breath and closing my eyes. I rolled over lazily to the sky, the moon reflecting off of my naked body.

  “Well,” Fitz said with a short chuckle. “I had no idea that that would go like that. That was fucking incredible. I hope you feel a little more relaxed.”

  “Holy shit, yes,” I said.

  I did. I felt at peace. I felt like I had never worked a day in my life at Rothenberg Banking.

  But then I realized what I had done.

  I had slept with a co-worker. I had fucked him on a public beach in Long Island. I had committed two atrocious sins for the sake of my sanity as a future public leader at Rothenberg Banking. If anyone ever found out or discovered what I had done…

  “Man, talk about an adventure,” Fitz said with a laugh, oblivious to my changing emotional state. “If you ever want to do this again—”

  “Take me home, Fitz,” I said.

  “What?”

  “I said, take me home!” I shouted. “Do you realize what I just did? Do you realize the jeopardy my career would be in if anyone found out what I just did? Do you know how much I may have just screwed myself over?”

  “OK, let’s slow down,” Fitz said. “Look. There’s no one else here. Trust me, I kept looking to see if anyone was coming. And if someone were, I would have stopped. But no one is here.”

  “OK, fine, that you saw, but...you’re a coworker, Fitz. That kind of thing ruins workplace happiness. We might be good now, but if we ever get in a fight, then it’s going to be awful and ugly, and, and—”

  I cut myself off when Fitz kept smiling. It was pissing me off, and I didn’t want to ruin what had been a surprisingly thrilling night with a snide comment.

  “Fitz,” I said, breathing slowly to calm myself. “How can you be so calm right now? Did you hear what I just said?”

  “I did. But I’m not worried about it.”

  “Not worried about it?” I said, going right back to my lost temper. “How the hell can you not be worried about it? I know we’re in different departments, but Jesus, if Ben or Gerald finds out, if anyone finds out, we’ll be the gossip of Rothenberg Banking. We probably already are from how much we hang out in the cafeteria! Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  “Amelia!”

  Fitz’s raised voice got my attention. But if he wanted to keep it, he needed to say something really fucking reassuring, because right now, I was not having it.

  “I can’t speak to if anyone will ever find out, but I’m going to do something that will go a long way to ensuring that no one ever finds out—and even if they do, that it wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Really?” I said, laughing to myself. “And what the hell is that going to be?”

  I’ll give him this. He shocked the hell out of me with what he said. I certainly would never have guessed it.

  “I’m quitting.”

  Chapter 11: Fitz

  “You’re fucking quitting?”

  I laughed. What else was I supposed to do? How else should I have reacted to the fact that I was defying Uncle’s advice, the rational advice in my head, millions of dollars in future earnings, and the golden blanket that Rothenberg Banking provided in favor of a career on a motorcycle?

  “I’m sorry, is this a joke?” Amelia said. “You cannot be serious, Fitz. This isn’t the time to make jokes. You know my head isn’t in the right place. You know—”

  “Yes, I do,” I said. “Which is why I needed to make sure of it before I said it. Yes, I’m serious. I am one hundred percent quitting.”

  Amelia looked like she didn’t want to believe me. The expression on her face was one of shock that refused to believe it was true. I just held fast to the expression I usually wore—stoic, neutral, and self-assured.

  “Jesus Christ,” Amelia said. “Where are you going? Did you get a job in San Francisco or something?”

  “Nope,” I said. “Actually, I’m not even going to stay in finance. I’m not going to stay in any white-collar industry.”

  “The hell?” she said. “You swear this isn’t a joke? You swear that you’re being one hundred percent serious about all of this?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’ll admit that at the start of the day, I wasn’t sure that it was what I was going to do, but it was something that I was certainly leaning toward. But seeing everything that you’ve gone through and what we’ve experienced tonight made me realize that this isn’t a career worth slaving away for. Especially when I have other interests.”

  “So...you’re retiring? You were able to save that quickly?”

  I laughed.

  “If only. No, I do have some good money saved, but it’s not enough to never work again. No. I’m going to something a little more...a little less prestigious, something a little simpler, but also something a heck of a lot less stressful.”

  “The hell? Fitz, did you get knocked in the head?”

  I laughed again. To anyone that wasn’t in my shoes, it seemed fucking crazy. Actually, I was in my shoes, and I knew that it was somewhat fucking crazy.

  But I had become certain of it on the ride with Amelia. The feeling of being free not just for myself but for others, to give them a taste of the life that I could live...that was something inescapable. I would never have that kind of life if I continued to work in finance. And while I could have had a facsimile of it, it would never be the same.

  I wasn’t going to pretend that I was thinking of my mortality when it happened. But I knew that life was short. I knew in my research that motorcyclists died at a more frequent rate than regular car drivers, and that rate had to be even higher for members of MCs. If I only had a few more years left on this rock, I figured it made sense to spend them doing what I loved as much as possible.

  “Not at all,” I said. “I’ve thought about this for quite some time. Years, for sure. Obviously not forever, but it’s not a rash decision by any means.”

  “OK,” Amelia said, putting her clothes back on as if raising her defenses against what she probably perceived as one of the most ridiculous and unbelievable stories that she was hearing. “So then...if you’re quitting and you’re not retiring and you’re not transferring jobs, then you’re going into a new industry. What is it? Can you tell me?”

  “Yeah, definitely.”

  I had no idea how Amelia would take it. Probably not well. But if she wasn’t going to take it well, then all this would be was a hot weekday fling that wouldn’t turn into anything more.

  And if she did? Well, suddenly, what we had could have had a lot more potential.

  “I’m going to become a car mechanic and work full time in the Savage Saints motorcycle club in Brooklyn.”

  Amelia stared at me for a few seconds, her jaw slack. I waited for her to say something, anything. I wanted to know her reaction before I said another word.

  Well, I got it. But it wasn’t really what I had hoped for, seeing as how she just proceeded to burst out laughing at me.

  “You cannot be serious!” she said. “You make so much money, and you’re going to walk away from that to be a car mechanic? I mean, OK, if you were to be an author or a musician, sure, that’s creative, but a car mechanic?”

  “It’s less that and more just being part of an MC,” I said. “The car mechanic is just so I have a source of income and can be near my brothers in the MC.”

  “This can’t be real. I have to be dreaming,” Amelia said, starting to slap herself. “No, seriously, all of this—this night, this bike ride, this news from you—it has to be fake. This is part of my nervous breakdown, right? This is the part where I wake up, and I’m back in my apartment, or maybe I’ve just taken a nap at work and had a really surreal dream. I’ve wanted to fuck you for some time,
Fitz, but this must be a sign that it’s fake. Right? Right?”

  Jesus, I didn’t think it would go over that poorly.

  “I swear to you it’s real.”

  Amelia reached over, grabbed my hands, and squeezed them.

  “OK,” she said. “OK. For the sake of...I don’t know what, but just for morbid curiosity, let’s go along with this. Not like things can get any weirder for me. Let’s say that you’re serious. You really are quitting being an investment banker to become...a motorcycle club member?”

  “To join the Savage Saints and to work as a car mechanic, where most everyone else works.”

  “OK,” she said, looking like I had just tried to explain rocket science to her. “OK, so, let’s say this is real. What in the world does the club offer? Why couldn’t you just, say, join a Meetup.com group or something like that? Why not just spend the weekend riding a motorcycle to Boston and back or something? Why not do anything that doesn’t entail you sacrificing your financial stability for the sake of a ride?”

  She laughed again.

  “I swear, Fitz, you’re the only person I know that left banking to spend time around their favorite vehicle. Most of those assholes stay in banking so they can pay for a luxury vehicle they only drive on so-called vacations.”

  “I know it’s weird,” I said, only now just realizing that I was still naked and needed to put my clothes on. “But while it’s true I don’t have my financial situation secure forever, I still have it safe for quite some time. I can take several years of not making any money before I have to start panicking. You know? And life’s not getting any shorter. We’re still stuck with the same length of time. At most, maybe I’ll live a year or two longer by being able to afford better healthcare, but not like it’ll make a huge difference.

  “What I’m most interested in, then, is maximizing my time doing what I enjoy. I have always felt drawn to the MC lifestyle. There’s just something so...traditional about it, and I’m not sure that’s the best word in today’s culture, but it feels like a brotherhood that society likes to condemn without realizing the benefits of it. Brotherhood isn’t something stupid where we talk about chasing pussy and drinking shitty beer. It’s about helping each other out in times of need, doing the job no matter what it takes, and not worrying about what the man might say.