Bones: Heartbreaker MC #2

by Alexis Abbott

  Maybe I am of both worlds. Maybe I am the crossroads.

  Either way, I can deny Bones nothing. Whatever he desires of me, he can take. Still, I can’t help but protest a little when he scrapes me back across the kitchen table, my sweater riding up so that my bare spine scratches on the wood grain. He deftly unzips and tears down my jeans, tossing them across the room to drape over the back of the sofa. Cool, humid air hits my bare legs and I can’t help but shiver. I can feel every knot and whirl of the wooden table under me.

  “I’m going to get a splinter,” I murmur breathlessly.

  Bones leans in and snarls close to my ear, “Pain is good. You’ll learn that in no time.”

  Outside, the thunderstorm rages on. Lightning cracks across the darkened night sky, rain pattering heavy and hard against the windowpane. Even through the thick walls of my little rental house, I can smell the distinctive, musky scent of wet earth and clay. Rain slicking down rivets of mud through the dewy, swaying grass. Flowers opening and closing to suck in the life-giving water. The forest seemed to swell and crowd around the house like a protective shield. From any window, you could see lush greenness encroaching closely. Here in my little house away from everything, there is no one to save me. No one to stop me.

  “Tell me what you want, little girl,” Bones hisses. “Tell me.”

  I bite my lip, afraid to answer, to breathe the words in my mind.

  He glares into my eyes expectantly, but I’m too stunned. I’m speechless. Bones growls with impatience and says, “Fine. Fuck it. I’m not waiting anymore.”

  With that, he reaches down and wrenches my legs apart, his fingertips greedily groping and pressing into my soft thighs. I inhale sharply and hook my knees around his waist, pulling him in close while he runs his hands up and down my thighs, teasing me as I get slicker and wetter. I’m already ready for him, and we’ve only just begun, but I’m still too coy to let it all show just yet. I have to maintain my composure. I can’t give it all away at once.

  But when he yanks me close and starts to grind his crotch against mine, it’s all I can do to keep from crying out and moaning with need. He gives me a devilish look of satisfaction, watching me bloom and unfold for him like a flower.

  “You want it bad, don’t you?” he taunts me in a gruff voice. “You’re a dirty little thing.”

  “I do,” I pant weakly, “I am.”

  It feels so damn good, and so wicked at the same time. The rough fabric of his jeans, still slightly dampened from the rain earlier, rubbing against my mound through the much softer, thinner material of my panties. The sensation sends spirals of pleasure centering on my clit, up through my body until my whole frame is buzzing with bliss. He manhandles me so roughly, but I can’t pretend I don’t love it. I deserve this. How else could a girl like me get fucked? I’ve got bad blood. Bad genes. I’m so twisted up and broken inside that this near-stranger’s brutal touch feels like a blessing. Like a gift I would be stupid to refuse.

  He ruts against me, bringing me closer and closer to the edge before it dances away again, making me moan softly with disappointment. He laughs darkly, tracing one finger down my forehead, my nose, to tap my pouting lips.

  “Oh, sweetheart. Don’t you worry. I have all kinds of things in mind for you tonight,” he promises me in a growl. “Lift your arms. Now.”

  I do as I’m told without question, raising my arms straight up over my head so Bones can grab the bottom hem of my gray knit sweater and whip it off, throwing it somewhere off to the side. Goosebumps instantly prickle up on my bared flesh, and I can’t help but squeal with mingled pain, surprise, and pleasure when Bones dives down to capture one of my stiffened nipples between his teeth. He flicks his tongue over the peak and then bites down. Hard. I writhe and whimper underneath him, biting my lip while he toys with my breasts. One hand gropes and thumbs over the nipple of my right breast while his teeth and tongue tease my left. When he nips again, harder and sharper this time, I actually scream out and impulsively try to scoot away from him. But Bones is ready. Always. He hastily grabs me by the waist with both hands, his fingertips digging into my sides as he holds me there.

  “Oh no. You’re not going anywhere,” he hisses, almost cruelly.

  He grabs and squeezes my tits, his thumbs circling my nipples while he grinds his crotch against mine, making me moan out his name in one fractured syllable.

  “Bones—oh my god,” I whimper helplessly as one of his huge, calloused hands slides up my chest to wrap gently around the front of my throat, applying soft but firm pressure there.

  He’s cautious at first, barely pushing down at all until I start warming up to the sensation. It feels like I’m clutched in the powerful hand of a god, making myself lie prostrate and worshipful, my eyes begging him to hurt me and not to hurt me at the same time. It’s exhilarating, feeling my lungs start to constrict and my body go rigid under his touch. I arch my back, leaning up into his hand. For a few harsh moments, all of my breath is caught and stolen away. I feel my body tense up, every muscle in my body straining, every cell in my brain screaming at me to gasp for air. All the wires are crossing and crackling, my whole body in a state of sustained, panicked delight. All the alarm bells are ringing. My chest aches. My stomach clenches. I feel an intense roll of tingles starting at the crowd of my head, passing down through clear to my curling toes. I gaze up into the face of the man who literally steals my breath away, staring at him like I could be meeting the face of god. I can see the little pinpricks of darkness swarming in at the edges of my vision. My head feels light for a moment, and then impossibly heavy. I feel hopeless and renewed all at once. And then, just like that, he releases my throat.

  His hands rove down my body as I gasp for breath, gulping down air to fill out my aching lungs. I barely have a chance to breathe and regain full consciousness before I hear the mouthwatering sound of his jeans being unzipped. I peer down to watch him let his massive, glorious cock spring free. I lick my lips with anticipation, watching with wide eyes while he starts to stroke himself.

  “I want to taste you again,” I murmur, mesmerized by the rhythm of his hand moving up and down his thick shaft.

  Bones gives me a look of dark amusement. “Oh, I bet you do, little girl. You filthy thing. And god, it felt good to stuff my cock inside your pretty little mouth. Shoving it down your throat, listening to you gag. But that’s not enough for me this time. Oh no. I have much bigger plans for you tonight, Lauren,” he promises me.

  I can hardly wait. I hold my breath while he tugs down my panties and drops them aside. Immediately, we can both smell my sweet, fragrant sex in the air. Bones inhales deeply, shaking his head with appreciation. He runs one long finger down the middle of my slick folds, then lifts it to his lips and tastes me. I get even wetter just watching him. I arch toward him, lifting my ass and silently begging for him to take me.

  “You want it, too, don’t you?” he snarls, grabbing my thighs and squeezing them as he works his way up to circle my sensitive clit with both thumbs. I toss my head back and moan.

  “Yes. Oh god, yes. Please,” I beg him.

  “I’m going to fuck your tight little pussy bare, do you understand?” he hisses.

  I whimper with fear, but I nod my head. I do want it. I do understand.

  He smacks my ass hard, making me cry out. Bones takes the engorged head of his shaft and begins to rub it in teasing circles around my clenching little hole. He slaps his cock against my flower, sliding up and down until I’m barely able to think straight. It feels so fucking good, even though I know he’s toying with me. I can’t wait. I’m so impatient to feel him inside me.

  “Bad girls don’t get to come until I say so,” Bones teases.

  “Please. I’m so close,” I murmur faintly.

  “You want it, little girl? You want to come all over my cock?” he goads me, still sliding his cock up and down my slick petals. I bite my lip and tense up, unable to hold back anymore. I come with a gush of honey, my whole body shi
vering and twitching.

  “Look at you, naughty girl,” he murmurs roughly. “I haven’t even done anything yet. You must be so desperate for it, hmm?”

  “Yes. Yes, please,” I whimper, still twitching from my climax.

  “I’ll give you something else. Something bigger. You need to be taught a lesson you won’t forget,” he growls, and in one fluid motion, he shoves his full cock inside of me.

  I cry out and fling my arms to each side to grab onto the table, holding on for dear life while ripples of sharp pain mixed with pleasure shoot through my body. He slams into me again and again, with no mercy or gentleness for my virginal cunny.

  “Oh my god. Oh fuck,” I whisper as he grabs me by the hips, holding me in place while his cock spears deep and hard into me, striking against this deliciously pleasurable spot far within my cunt that I’ve never been able to reach myself.

  It feels like heaven and hell colliding, blood and come and hot, hot desire. Bones fucks me without holding back one bit, pushing past my boundaries and pounding me into the table. He pins me down, his hands pressing into each of my wrists on either side of me while his hips piston back and forth rapidly, slamming into my cunt. One of his hands roves down my arm and up to my throat, pressing down for a few seconds at a time before releasing again, every time pushing me closer and closer to the edge. I clench my pussy around him, arching my back to meet his every thrust. I can feel him tensing up, getting close. For a moment he tries to recoil, like he’s going to pull out. But I wrap my legs around his waist even tighter, keeping him there.

  “You dirty little girl,” he snarls. “You trying to make me come?”

  I realize as soon as the words leave his lips that it’s true. I want that. More than anything.

  “Yes! Come inside me,” I plead. “Fill me up. Mark me. Make me yours.”

  “Fuck, you’re so filthy. I’m going to claim you, Lauren. You belong to me,” he quips.

  He pounds into me a few more erratic times and then I feel it—his hot, precious seed spurting deep inside my pussy. The two of us gasping and spasming together, sharing the hot, humid air between us as we grapple to hold still in place while the storm continues to rumble on outside. Finally, Bones withdraws and I immediately feel his come start to leak out of my aching cunny. He hastily gets dressed again and brings me my clothes, including my jeans with the phone in the pocket.

  As I’m pulling on my clothes, trying to make sense of what just happened between us, I feel my cell phone start to vibrate. I frown in confusion. It’s a burner phone. Almost nobody has my number. I look down at the screen with terror slowly flooding my veins. With my heart racing, I dart up the stairs to my bedroom to answer the call.

  No, I think to myself desperately. No. It can’t be him.

  Bones

  “What is it?” I say as I see her face go pale, staring at her screen. “Lauren, what’s the matter?”

  She doesn’t give me an answer. She just stares at the screen for a few seconds, looking like a storm of emotions is churning under the surface of her face before she looks up to me. The look in the gaze that hits me with the force of a freight train. She looks pained to speak, but she manages to move her lips anyway.

  “I need a minute alone,” she says numbly.

  I can’t believe her. One minute she’s hot, and the next she’s cold. One second she’s making me treat her like my little girl and begging me to play with her buttons, and then she’s kicking me out of her room or clamming up and going all creepy and brooding. I can’t make heads or tails of her, but I have a good feeling I know what this call is about, and it’s more frustrating than anything that I can see her closing up all over again after letting herself relax so much.

  For a few moments, I open my mouth, thinking about protesting, but finally I just give a curt nod and head back down the hallway as she half-shuts herself in her bedroom to take the call. Once I’m in the living room, I look out the window to check on my bike before sitting down on the couch and glaring at the opposite wall, feeling tense.

  Why does this always come up post-orgasm? Am I always going to have to worry about this bullshit when we mess around? But no sooner has that thought crossed my mind that I feel guilty about it, and I run a hand over my face.

  Obviously, she can’t help it. Everything to do with her dad and the kind of sick son of a bitch he is drives her crazy in a way that goes deeper than anything I can ever understand. And when I sit back and really think about it, she’s been alone letting that burden eat her up inside about as long as I’ve been on the run from my old crew back in California.

  All that time, I’ve been able to find my people. I’ve always fallen in with other bikers who would ride with me, get into trouble with me, and sometimes even get me out of it, if they’re good ones. Those types are rare, but they’re out there. Breaker is one of the good ones, and so are the other guys in the Heartbreakers. We’ve had each other’s backs as outlaws, and unless one of us decides to do something stupid like Buzz and his idiot son did, we won’t stab each other in the back.

  Lauren has never had that, by the sounds of things. I try to picture myself packing my own bags at the age of sixteen, getting ready to hit the road with no contacts, no prospects, and no knowing what the next day was going to hold. That last part was true anyway but I don’t think Lauren had the other two luxuries, by the sounds of things.

  Part of me wants to be suspicious of her story to some degree, but she’s just odd enough that her behavior fits with the rest of her story. I’m no psychologist, and I can’t explain it, but I believe her on a gut level.

  I can’t just let her go on with that conversation without getting curious, so after a few minutes, I stand up and move as silently as I can down the hallway and to the bedroom door. I furrow my brow when I realize I can’t hear the sound of her voice, nor the muffled sound of a voice on the other end of the line. Instead, I hear her shuffling around the room in a hurry.

  The door is ajar, and I stand awkwardly parallel to the hallway as I lean in and try to listen for the sounds of voice. But I can’t hear anything, and I’m getting impatient, so I push the door open and stick my head in. I was right—the call is over, and the phone is lying in the middle of a pillow, sunk halfway down the soft cushion as if it had been hurled at it.

  The second thing that gets my attention is the large suitcase, open and already a quarter packed on the top of the bed.

  “The fuck?” I murmur as I look over to Lauren and see her pulling half a dozen sweaters out of the closet and pulling them off their hangers without acknowledging me. Her brow is knit, and she looks absolutely determined to keep working without so much as looking at me.

  “Uh...hey,” I say, finally stepping into the room and looking at her. “What was that?”

  She doesn’t answer. She stops herself with the sweaters, sighing annoyedly and glaring down at the contents of her suitcase as if something had suddenly occurred to her, and she set the sweaters aside to bustle to a drawer of socks and underwear and start packing those first instead.

  “Lauren,” I say, more sternly.

  I see her face twist up for a fraction of a second, but she just murmurs something under her breath and brushes me off.

  “Hey, look,” I say, not stepping further inside yet. “I don’t know what all this is, but I sure as hell hope you’re not about to leave me with a giant question mark hanging over us before you withdraw again.” She still doesn’t respond, so I step into the room and block off her route to the suitcase, making her glare up at me with an arm full of two pairs of pajamas.

  “Come on, I wasn’t that bad, was I?” I ask with a gruff smile, hoping to lighten the mood in the room a little.

  Lauren doesn’t seem to find it half as amusing as me. She scoffs and tries to push past me, but I catch her around the waist and thrust her back in front of me, glaring down at her.

  “Look, I’m not seriously going to stop you if a phone call from your dad is going to make you pack
up and leave all over again, but the least you could give me is an explanation,” I growl.

  “It wasn’t him!” she snaps, squirming away from me and straightening her clothes.

  I stare at her, surprised, and she steps back, regarding me carefully as if silently asking whether I’m planning on stepping in and getting handsy with her again. There’s a challenge in the gaze. Part of her likes that, but not right now. I can’t just grab her and shake her out whatever she has going on in her head right now, she needs to be able to deal with it herself.

  So, I take a seat on the mattress beside the suitcase, staring up at her and waiting patiently to see what she’d really like to do. She smooths her hair out and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. Finally, she steps over to me and takes a seat on my lap, something that gives me a swelling sense of pride and joy. I wrap my hands around her hips and hug her to me, breathing slowly to give her a rhythm to calm down to.

  “It wasn’t my father,” she repeats more softly. “It was a journalist.”

  “Journalist?” I grunt. “What the fuck would one of those want with you? Would have thought the media fiasco would have settled all that bullshit down long ago.”

  “There are always going to be people who want a follow-up story on things like this,” she says after a brief pause. “I...I don’t know how they found my new number, but I guess there’s nothing you can’t find if you do enough digging.”

  “Well, fuck this journalist,” I say, squeezing her. “If anyone comes around here, me and the Heartbreakers will scare them the fuck off, how does that sound?”

  That seems to get a shadow of a smile from her, and I grin at her, but it doesn’t last.

  “If they can find me, he can find me,” she says at last, and suddenly, her frantic packing makes sense.

  “You’ve calmed down,” I point out, running my hands softly up and down her body. “By a lot. And I know my hands are never cold, but they’re not so comforting that they can do that to just anyone,” I chuckle. “Big part of that was you, sweetheart.” Her faint smile grows softly at that, and she rests one of her smaller hands in mine. “You showed me a part of you nobody else has seen. If you can trust me with that, you can trust me to have your back through this...if you’re willing,” I say.