The Ties That Bind 1

by D. A. Young

  “My prez does what he thinks is best for the club.” Once more, Ransom was reminded of that fateful day the Aztecs were executed. The weight of blame damn near crippled him. He offered his fist to Frankie, who bumped it with his.

  “Good seeing you. Later, brother.”

  “Mañana, amigo.”

  Ransom met Billy halfway. Arms crossed and eyes narrowed, he demanded, “Feeling better?”

  With a defiant lift of her chin, she scoffed, “Do you really care?”

  “Do I look like I’m asking for fucking shits and giggles, Willamina?” Ransom snapped. “Loose the attitude.”

  “Believe me, I’m trying to loose more than that.” Billy peered over his shoulder and looked around until she spied what she was searching for. Giving Ransom a polite smile, she stepped around him. “Thanks for today. It’s been a blast, but I’m going to catch that cab now.”

  Ransom caught her by her forearm. Simmering dark eyes met his furious ones. “You don’t want to act up with me, Billy. I’m trying real hard not to loose my temper. One thing you should keep in mind? I’m not here for the bullshit. If I tell you I’m gonna do something, I mean it. So, when I say I’ll put that delectable, spoiled ass over my knee and tear it up, believe that, fancypants.”

  His mean smile held promise, and Billy’s anger faded. She wouldn’t put it past him to try. “My bad, Ransom. I forgot you were running this show. Silly me for trying to deviate from it. I’d like to return to the hotel now, your highness.”

  Nose in the air, Billy pushed past him and headed for his bike. Ransom briefly closed his eyes and counted to twenty. His stubborn little minx was going to have to learn the hard way.

  A switch between them had been turned off, leaving behind stunted drivel that barely passed for conversation. Despite her conflicted feelings, Billy pressed herself to Ransom as he smoothly navigated his motorcycle. She splayed her hands on his chest and stomach, loving the way his muscles rippled underneath her touch. As crazy pissed as she was, Billy was unable to resist the man beneath all the machismo, chrome, and leather. She slipped one hand, then the other, beneath his black tee-shirt, touching his warm, firm flesh and tracing his ridged abs.

  Billy’s nails lightly raking his skin had an instantaneous effect on him. Ransom felt dizzy from her touch as blood rushed to his cock with quicksilver speed. Normally, he craved the feel of her except for at this moment. Particularly when Ransom realized exactly how much he needed her. Her walking away from him, not once but twice, made his heart pound violently as if he was about to stroke out. She would be the death of him if he didn’t regain some semblance of control. Ransom accelerated his speed and halfway to Chatham, he suddenly swerved left. Ignoring Billy’s persistent tapping on his shoulder, he pressed on until he located the hidden path he occasionally used. Ransom’s photography professor often took the class here for photo sessions. Infrequently, he returned with his camera to enjoy the solitude and nature. Dust kicked up as he maneuvered his bike, ascending through the narrow, winding tunnels. Billy clutched at him frantically, refusing to let up until they were finally out in the open, atop a towering hill with panoramic views and the gorge below them.

  Ransom parked and hopped of the bike, simultaneously removing his helmet.

  Billy glanced around curiously but remained seated. As expected, the backdrop was stunning. “What are we doing here?”

  “Panties off. Now.”

  Startled, she turned to him, interest piqued when his hands went to his belt buckle, turning her insides hotter than her sun-baked skin.

  “Excuse me?” she managed to say and even inject some affront into her tone.

  Billy wasn’t fooling him. He could practically hear the pulse at the base of her throat thumping. Ransom reached into his back pocket and extracted a condom from his wallet. He let the wallet drop to the clay dirt and shoved his jeans and boxers past his ass.

  “Ransom, what are you doing?” she squeaked, furtively glancing around. There wasn’t another soul out here for miles that she could see. Excitement heated her veins. Billy had never given voyeurism much thought; however, her biker was making her reconsider. “Out here?? Seriously?”

  “I’m not gonna repeat myself, Billy.”

  Ransom tore the condom open and took victorious pleasure in the way her eyes fixated on his jutting cock. She licked her lips, and he wrapped his fist around it, taunting her by stroking it base to tip. Using his free hand, he expertly suited up. His readiness spurred Billy into action, and she slid off the motorcycle, still furious at his earlier attitude but nobody’s fool.

  Smirking, Ransom sat backward on his bike and held his hand out for her panties. She dropped them in his palm, curling her fingers around his. They were damp with her lust, and he raised them to his face and breathed deeply, her fragrance turning him impossibly harder and feeding his hunger. Reluctantly, Ransom shoved them into the inside of his vest and crooked his finger at Billy.

  “Hop that pretty ass on up here and come get this, wildthing,” he commanded.

  His growl dared Billy to disobey and refuse him. She had no intentions of doing so, and Ransom wasn’t going to give her time to. He caught Billy, hooking his arm around her waist and reeling her in. Using both hands, he hoisted her up while she lifted her dress and her wet heat settled over his hot shaft.

  They groaned at the delicious contact in mutual, unspoken agreement that they would never have enough of this. Foreheads pressed together, they stared deeply into each other’s eyes. She was his. Devastatingly so. Even if he didn’t want to put a label on them. This was all he could offer her and they both knew it would never be enough. But for now she’d accept his terms. Without looking away, Billy reached between them and stroked him leisurely, her fingers trailing further, feathering his balls.

  Ransom tipped his head back into the fading sunshine, enjoying her teasing caresses. Fuck, his girl knew him so well. This was his weakness, and he could cum from this alone. He knocked her hand away, cupped her nape and used his other hand to position himself at her ready portal. Knowing she’d be soaked for him, Ransom surged upward, stuffing Billy to the brim. With a surprised cry, her back arched and she grabbed at his neck, her bosom thrusting against his face.

  Ransom bit her nipple through the fabric and ordered, “Unbutton your dress and pull your bra down.”

  Fingers shaking with excitement, she wordlessly obeyed. Ransom’s hands dove under her dress and cupped her ass as he devoted his attention to her needy tits. Billy’s thighs did most of the work, her hips dancing, rotating in a rhythm of lifts, rolls, and swivels, while her nails clawed desperately at his neck and scalp. As his tongue worked her sensitive flesh over, Billy’s hushed moans increased in intensity, morphing into screams that echoed over the silent gorge and Ransom’s jagged breaths soon joined in.

  “Babe, you feel so good…” Moaning her appreciation of her lover’s skills and cock, Billy’s eyes drifted shut. She laid her cheek on top of his hair, allowing the green-apple scent of his Suave shampoo to fill her nostrils, her lips parting on a sob of endless pleasure. “You’re so good…”

  “That’s because my pussy’s damn good to me,” he rasped, his face pressed against her heaving bosom. Ransom flicked his tongue repeatedly against the pebbled bud closest to his face and she bucked wildly. “Like you, it’s fucking impossible to resist…”

  He moved his hands up to her waist and Billy surrendered herself to Ransom’s fierce tempo as he maneuvered her like a puppet, up and down on his shaft, stoking the fires burning deep within. Marveling in the sweet friction of her pussy, his balls tightened with every flutter her cunt gave, signaling Billy’s impending orgasm. Tension swirling up his spine, Ransom grabbed her by the nape and drew her mouth to his. Persistently meshing their tongues, he slowed their tempo down to a bone-melting grind as his fingers found her clit and he pinched and tugged on it. Ransom swallowed Billy’s hoarse cry as she stiffened, the unexpected rush of her climax taking her by surprise and triggering
his own. He shot his load into her, hard and fast, legs cramping while she inhaled his ferocious grunts of victory.

  Exhausted, yet, completely sated, her body went slack against him. Also spent, Ransom gathered her to him. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you, wildthing. You good?”

  In her present state, Billy found breathing, let alone thinking and responding, impossible. She settled for a weak nod and gradually opened her eyes. Her startled gasp had Ransom’s eyes flying open and he grinned, suddenly hit with a renewed burst of energy. He’d timed their visit perfectly. The sun was starting its descent. There was no way he wasn’t going to take advantage of this occasion.

  He eased her off him, carefully took care of the condom, and climbed off the bike. “Stay put. You trust me, Billy?”

  Warily, she nodded again. Ransom fixed his clothes and reached into his storage compartment. He shoved the used rubber into a plastic trash bag to dispose of later and reached for his camera case.

  Billy raised her hands to cover her breasts, and Ransom shook his head adamantly. “No, just like this. Don’t cover yourself, sweetheart. Not from me. You against this sunset, with that well-loved look on your face, is like fucking Christmas and my birthday rolled into one.”

  Already weightless from his primal brand of lovemaking, Ransom’s praise made her feel as wild and free as their surroundings. No stranger to being around cameras and models, Billy draped her lithe body over his bike. Ransom raised his camera and went to work. Despite all of her protests, she was a natural in front of the camera, he discovered. Sky ablaze behind her, skin gleaming with perspiration, and sultry eyes half-mast, Billy squeezed Ransom’s breath from his lungs. She was a masterpiece, seductive and playful at turns. A warrior gripping the handlebars with a mock snarl for the camera as the wind picked up, whipping her hair and the skirt of her dress about. Or a lover, eyes closed, body pressed intimately to his bike, thighs clutching its sides possessively, while her hands lovingly stroked the chrome.

  By the time he was done, dusk was settling in, and Ransom knew he’d done his best work yet.

  Tank opened the gate, and Ransom zoomed in, parking in his normal spot. He assisted Billy from the bike, slipping his arm around her shoulders possessively. They walked to the clubhouse, and the crowd parted like Moses and the Red Sea for them. Ransom met and held the eyes of each person, man and woman, they passed, guaranteeing they understood that Billy was off-limits. Any issues they had with her would be dealt with by him.

  Billy held her head high as she took in her surroundings. The compound had a Mad Max / Road Warrior feel. She nodded and smiled at everyone they encountered, especially the women with the resentful sneers and baleful looks. If looks could kill, Billy would have been slaughtered a hundred times over. To Ransom, she murmured, “Your fan club doesn’t seem to appreciate my presence.”

  “Fuck ‘em. Nobody’s thinking about them.”

  The tension between them escalated as they approached the large, three-storied warehouse. More motorcycles were lined outside of it, and kids played on the large expanse of artificial lawn. Bikers and scantily clad women mingled as music Billy didn’t recognize blasted and the aroma of grilling meat hit her nose.

  “What’s this song?”

  “Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Call Me The Breeze”. Why? You like it?” Ransom kissed the side of her forehead.

  “It’s different…” Billy gave him a genuine smile, and it seemed to take a little bit of the edge off him.

  “Everyone! The prodigal son has returned!” A man’s booming voice brought the edge right back, Billy observed, irritating her when Ransom stiffened reflexively.

  It belonged to a middle-aged man whose blonde-gray hair matched his long beard. He stood by a large grill being monitored by other club members. His eyes resembled blue chips of granite when they settled on her.

  “And you must be the infamous Billy! Well, come on over here and let ol’ Slade have a look at you, darlin’,” he leered.

  Ransom’s hand tightened on her waist, and Billy felt his unbridled hostility for this jerk as he directed her over to him. “Prez, this is my woman, Billy. Babe, this is Slade Lawson, President of the Immortals and my father. Next to him is Blaze, our VP; the redhead is Jester, our Treasurer, and baldy there is Deke, our Secretary. You remember Pitch.”

  “Hello; it’s nice to meet you all.” Billy held her hand out and Slade shook it, followed by the other men as they echoed her greeting. She felt like a fatted calf being delivered to the slaughterhouse. Her gaze was unwavering as they carefully inspected her. Not that Billy gave a shit what they thought of her.

  “Likewise, girl. Has my son been treating you right?” Slade was oozing his Mr. Congeniality bit, knowing how much it got under Ransom’s skin.

  She didn’t like him, Billy decided with distaste. He was a little too everything. Too slick, too coarse, too egotistical, and too vain. The way he smiled at her made Billy suspect that he was used to women preening and fawning all over him and assumed she would do the same.

  “He’s been great.”

  “That’s good to know. I raised him and his brother to have manners. Nice to know they don’t come off as uncivilized louts. What are you drinkin’ tonight? Can I get you a beer?”

  “No, thank—”

  “She’s eighteen,” Ransom growled protectively. “There’ll be no underage drinking. Put the word out that whoever attempts to give her any alcohol is going to have a fucking problem on their hands.”

  “A beer won’t kill her! Hell, you and your brother’s thievin’ asses were practically raised on beer, and look how y’all turned out,” Slade joked, but neither his son nor Billy laughed.

  “My point exactly,” Ransom returned pointedly.

  A moment of awkward silence ensued before Slade jeered, “Rough crowd tonight, I guess.”

  He could see that Billy wasn’t impressed by him and was nonplussed by this unfamiliar behavior from a member of the opposite sex. It was a tried and proved theory that if you showed a bitch a motorcycle, she automatically went into heat. Throw in the leather and tattoos and you had a bonafide stalker on your hands.

  “I want you to know that I’ve known your father for a long time, and he’s alright in my book. Marcus is a good and honest, man,” Slade informed Billy, changing the subject.

  “I’ll be sure to let him know you think so,” Billy said politely. Because Marcus was just waiting on Slade’s approval so that he could die happy? She pondered to herself sarcastically.

  “Why don’t you go on in and say hello to my missus and get yourself something to eat?”

  Billy glanced at Ransom uncertainly, and he nodded approvingly and gave her a reassuring smile as he gently propelled her forward. It wasn’t herself that she was worried about as much as him. Something about Slade rubbed Ransom the wrong way, causing Billy’s protective instincts to spring forth. “You want me to bring you back anything?”

  “Nah, babe, I’m good. I’ll be in shortly to say hello to my mom.”

  She squeezed his hand and walked toward the house, posture regal and hips unintentionally swaying. Ransom felt a rush of pride that she was with him as heads turned to track her.

  “She’s not bad, I’ll give you that,” Slade remarked grudgingly.

  “You going senile? That girl is what we in the south call fine as frog hair,” Blaze informed him, raising his beer to Ransom with approval. “You done good, kid.”

  Wisely, Pitch settled for rolling his eyes instead of speaking as he flipped burgers. He was still sporting a goose egg from their encounter the other day.

  “Ran into Frankie Montoya today. He said you set something up with Vargas tomorrow at Inferno,” Ransom commented to Slade.

  “You woulda known that if you had bothered to stick around the shop today and put in some overtime.”

  “We both know that I’ve gone above and beyond my share of overtime. Don’t forget that I’ve never even touched my accumulated vacation time. I was due some time off.” />
  Slade’s eyes were calculating. “Vargas must have something damned good if he’s willing to recruit us. Your presence is required if you can manage to pull yourself away from Billy.”

  “My loyalty being questioned makes me want to question you. Don’t worry about me, Prez, I’ll be there.” Pissed by Slade’s bitchy attitude, Ransom added, “Frankie said Vargas seems to think that Caesar may have been planning dissension. That whoever he was in cahoots with got the better of him.”

  “I say we let him think that. Hell, I say we breathe life into it. Who is it gonna hurt?” Slade questioned the group. “Keep him off balance.”

  “You shittin’ me? It’s not enough for you that we killed and now, he’s going stir crazy?” Judging from their uneasy expressions, Ransom knew the men agreed with him. “I say we leave it alone. Grief is a dangerous thing. It can make a sane man do irrational things. Not that Vargas was that sane to begin with.”

  “I’m with Ransom on this, Prez,” Blaze volunteered.

  “I second it,” Deke added.

  “Me too,” Jester added, tossing a beer bottle at Ransom who easily caught it.

  “This ain’t church, dickheads,” Slade reminded them with a sour expression. “What about your brother, Ransom? Do you trust him to keep his shit together? He did blow the man’s sister away in the back like a fucking coward.”

  Disgust dripped from Slade’s words, and from his peripheral, Ransom saw Pitch’s head shoot up, giving their prez a venomous glance.

  “He’s your successor, ain’t he? If you’re doing everything you can to groom him then he should do well.”

  Ransom was tired of this shit. Slade’s shit. Harley’s shit. He felt like a prostitute who worked for free. All of it was draining him fast. If he wanted to keep shit kosher and maneuver around time bombs, he would have gone into fucking politics. Ransom needed a sanctuary from it all.