by Lynn Burke
“And after having experienced that life, I knew I wanted to make childhood a better experience for all the other young, lonely souls feeling they don’t have a place in this world.”
“So, you’ve always been good-hearted.”
I shrugged. “Pretty much. I never rebelled, and I studied hard in school since I wanted more for my life than I’d been dealt.”
“Tell me more.”
I did, keeping from the unsavory bits of being a foster kid, turning the focus on him and his background as often as possible. An hour flew by as we spoke, sharing our thoughts on politics, philosophy, and life.
The usual get to know you stuff people enjoy while out on a first date. We saw eye to eye in all things that mattered, right down to climate change and the fact most politicians didn’t give two shits—his words, not mine—even though I agreed whole-heartedly.
We’d finished up slices of homemade apple pie and coffee when my cell rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but I rarely did when so many clients and foster families had my number.
“Miss Pia, it’s Dasia.”
My heart stalled out even though her voice sounded fine. “Are you okay?” I blurted, straightening in my chair as Ryker’s brow furrowed.
“Yes. I’m at my friend’s house—this is her cell number.”
“Did you run away again? Did anything happen?”
“No and kinda.”
My breath caught at the hesitation in Dasia’s voice. Ryker’s scowl deepened. “What happened?” I asked, my motherly tone firm.
“I’ve been putting my desk chair under my doorknob at night, and he tried to get in an hour after we all went to bed.”
“Nothing happened, though?” I asked.
“No,” Dasia said with a heavy exhale. “If he’d have forced his way in, he would have made enough noise to wake his Stepford wife.”
My mind scrambled for a way to keep her safe, but she went on before a lightbulb went off above my head.
“I’m staying here at Stacey’s tonight.”
“Do your foster parents know where you are?”
“Mrs. Griffey knows,” Dasia said. “Told me it was fine since she knows Stacey’s parents and confirmed where I was with her mom.”
I let out a heavy breath, sinking back into my chair, and attempted a smile at Ryker to ease the tension seeming to ride his shoulders and the poor skin between his eyebrows. My thumb tingled to reach out and smooth the skin.
“I appreciate your calling me, Dasia.”
“Yeah—I just wanted you to know so you wouldn’t have to worry about me tonight. I know how you get.”
My smile came easy. “I would love you like my own if I could.”
“I know, Miss Pia.” Music suddenly blared in the background. “Stacey started the movie,” Dasia said, “so I gotta go.”
“Enjoy yourself,” I blurted, excited she would be able to rest easy for one night at least.
“Why don’t you look up that badass biker and take a night off from worry yourself?” she said with a laugh.
I smiled, butterflies returning to dance in my stomach as my gaze returned to Ryker’s face—his intense stare. “Maybe I will.”
“Good. You need to get laid.”
“Dasia Walker!” Heat shot up and over my chest.
She giggled—and hung up.
“She alright?” Ryker asked as I set my cell on the table, my hand a bit shaky.
“She’s staying with a friend, but he tried to break into her room last night and failed.”
His lips flatlined, and he pulled a couple of twenties from his pocket, tossing them onto the table. “Ready to roll?”
My backside wasn’t so sure, but the sudden freedom of nagging worry in the back of my head had me wanting to toss my arms out wide again—and maybe tighten my thighs a bit around his while jetting down the road.
“Let’s ride,” I told him with a grin.
Chapter Nine
Ryker
We made the three hour trip southward as the sun set to our right sending streaks of red across the sky. Until we arrived back at Pia’s apartment, darkness hovered above, any pinpricks of starlight hidden by the city’s lights.
Pia had pushed a bit on the ride back, her thighs brushing against my outer ones when unnecessary. Hardly by chance, too. While I’d fought off the need to flinch since we flew down a highway, the touch through clothing didn’t clench my stomach into knots like skin contact did.
My dick fucking loved it, that was for damn sure. Fucking thing strained for release, smearing pre-cum inside my leathers like I hadn’t experienced since being a young punk checking out Mrs. Flaherty, our neighbor who’d loved to garden in crop tops and Daisy Duke’s.
I parked and cut the engine even though Pia hadn’t invited me in—but I had high fucking hopes and blue balls for fucking days.
“Coming in?” she asked, her face flushed in her apartment building’s flood lights as she climbed off the back of my bike. She grimaced and rubbed her ass.
“I don’t have good intentions,” I told her the truth.
Her lips parted on an intake of air. “Meaning you want me tied up, bent over my couch, or on my knees, hands behind my back?” She slapped a hand over her mouth, that sexy as hell flush taking over her cheeks.
“Goddamnit, woman,” I growled, my dick jerking.
She shoved her hands in her back pockets, her flirty smile showing off her dimple and sending that new rush of warmth through my chest again.
She popped out one lush hip, propping her hand on it with unpracticed fumbling. Fucking adorable. “Do I need to ask twice?”
I climbed off my bike without taking my eyes off her face. Her smile faded as I loomed, need to order her to her knees barely suppressed. As much as I wanted to bury my dick balls deep inside her sweet pussy to get my rocks off, I found I didn’t want to be an asshole with her. “I can take what I want, what you think you want, Pia, but I can’t give you what you need.”
“What I need,” she said, her voice breathless and rushed, “is for you to take what you want, Ryker. Use me for your pleasure. Show me that darkness inside your soul.”
Fuck. Me.
Pia didn’t know what she asked for, but I wasn’t about to deny her. Given the green fucking light, I nodded toward the apartment building, and she turned, hurrying forward and digging a key out of her pocket.
Every sway of her hips led me on like a fucking dog on a leash, desperate to shove my face in her ass and sniff.
It’d been a long fucking time since I’d attempted to taste a woman in that way—hadn’t ended well for either of us when she’d reached back to grasp my hair.
Teeth clenched, I forced the memory back in the black dungeon inside my head, slamming the door shut with finality. Along with it, I made sure to lock up my heart, my emotions. Pia tempted my vulnerability to within a goddamn inch of my life.
First floor apartment—small from a quick glance at the living area and kitchen to the right.
The couch lay straight ahead, the back a perfect height.
Did she expect a bit of foreplay—
The thought cut off from my mind as she bent to unlace her boots, ass in the air, wide and juicy, her jeans tight against flesh I actually wanted to pound against rather than fight to ignore while fucking into a wet hole.
Goddamn. I grasped my dick through my leathers, trying to calm the fuck down.
Pia straightened and tossed a glance over her shoulder, catching me with my hand on my dick.
“See something you want?” she asked, once more breathless and shaky.
“Fuck, yes,” I growled. “Take off your jeans.”
She kept her back to me, her focus over her shoulder on my face while doing as told, shimmying them down her legs.
The sight of pale pink panties—not quite virginal but far from sexy—brought a deep groan up from my chest. “Slide those off, too,” I said, my voice rasped to fucking hell from lust to bust a nut.
Again, she did as I said, shimmying the scrap of cotton down over her smooth-looking, pale legs. Wetness darkened the lining. Hadn’t once buried my face in a woman’s pussy, but I sure as hell enjoyed the scent of one. I breathed in deep, hoping to catch a whiff of her musk.
No such fucking luck.
“Toss them to me,” I told her, letting go of my dick to hold out my hand.
Pink fused across her face as she turned a bit to flip her panties toward me.
Gaze glued to the patch of blonde curls between her thighs, I buried my nose in her warm panties and breathed deep, sucking her into my lungs. Watermelon and musk. Holy fucking mother of God—saliva burst from every goddamn gland in my mouth, and I swallowed back another groan.
“Tell me you’re ready for me, Pia,” I muttered into the cotton before sniffing again.
Her head jerked up and down.
“Touch yourself. Show me.”
She audibly gulped, and I stared as she slid her fingers down over her pubic bone, into the hidden heaven below. A whimper, and she pulled her fingers back upward, wetness glistening on one digit up to the second knuckle.
“Suck it clean,” I ordered, my voice uneven. Harsh with anger over the fact I couldn’t do it my goddamn self.
I watched the finger disappear between her plump lips and her cheeks hollow out while sucking it clean.
“Tell me what you taste like, little lamb.”
Pia licked her lower lip after removing her finger from her mouth as though hoping to catch the last bit of lingering flavor. “Tangy.”
“Sweet?”
She shrugged, red across her heaving chest and up her neck.
“You’ve never tasted yourself before.”
“No.”
I reached down and unbuttoned my leathers, shoving them down far enough to spring my leaking dick free.
Pia licked her lower lip again, and I grasped my base, squeezing to keep from blowing like a goddamn wet-behind-the-ears teen from her stare alone.
“Have you tasted yourself?” she whispered.
I considered lying, but found I didn’t want to. “Yeah. Salty as shit—I don’t know why women like it.”
She lifted her focus off my dick to my face, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. “Can I taste you?” she whispered, sending another welling of pre-cum to dribble down toward my hand.
Her mouth would feel like fucking heaven—but I didn’t trust the shaking hands at her sides. She seemed the touchy-feely type.
“Bend over the couch, Pia,” I told her, fishing a condom from my back pocket. I didn’t carry the fucking things too often, but I’d come prepared—just in case she wasn’t turned off by what I wanted.
She stared, lips slightly parted as I sheathed my dick.
“Over the couch,” I repeated, “legs spread.”
A shiver rippled down over her body, raising goose bumps along her legs, and she turned away, draping her body over the couch’s back.
“Hands behind your head,” I said, stepping closer, my focus snagged by the pink folds and wetness smeared along the insides of her thighs. Fucking soaked, and I hadn’t even touched her.
Goddamn, what a sweet little lamb.
Her clasped fingers turned white knuckled behind her head before I stepped in close enough to rub the tip of my dick up through her slick wetness.
“Oh…” She shuddered but kept her hands in place.
I notched and released my hold on my dick to grasp the back of the couch beside her hips. While I wouldn’t be able to help my pelvis and the tops of my thighs from slamming against her soft skin, I knew the clasp of her pussy sucking me in would be enough to keep my stomach from turning.
She moaned as I pressed forward, and I fought the need to blow early while watching my dick disappear inside her tight heat.
“Holy fuck.” I clenched my teeth, head tipped back as I bottomed out, the feel of her warm ass cheeks against my pelvis almost as much a fucking turn on as her pussy squeezing my dick. I’d never in my life felt that. Ever.
My neck strained, and I dug my fingers into the couch while fighting for calm and gliding back out, dragging my dick along her slick walls.
Pia whimpered and shifted beneath me as I slowly pressed back in. “Ryker…”
She whispered my name on a choked sob, and I jerked my eyelids open to make sure her hands remained clasped.
“Too much?” I asked through clenched teeth as my dick pressed against her cervix.
“More.”
“Fuck.” I pulled out and shoved back in with enough force Pia squeaked—and moaned again. Most women couldn’t get off with a little clit play, and most of the club whores didn’t even try when letting me take what I needed.
But Pia…
She whimpered and moaned, every noise escaping her like a double shot of espresso to my drawn up balls.
I wasn’t going to last—and I wanted to feel her come around me. I wanted her cum dripping off my balls, creaming up the hell out of my cock.
“Touch your clit.” I slid out fully, my dick aching—jerking to sink back into the swollen pinkness holding my attention. “I want to feel you come around me, little lamb.”
She kept one hand behind her head and sneaked the other between her thighs and the couch, her legs trembling. “Put it back in, Ryker,” she pleaded, sounding near tears while working her clit, her hips gyrating, seeking release. “Please.”
I speared in without notching first, and she convulsed. “Ryker!” Her breath caught, and her pussy squeezed the living fuck out of my thrusting dick. Our skin slapped together as I plowed into her pulsing channel over and over, tingles rising up from my toes as wetness smeared between us, dripping off my balls to the floor.
“Fuck, little lamb.” I groaned as the first spurt of cum shot from my dick into its rubber prison, my fingers in a vise on the couch as my ass flexed without rhythm, desperate to empty my balls. One last dribble of cum, and I stilled, buried deep, heaving for breath, the scent of sweat, sex, and watermelon overwhelming my goddamn brain.
I cursed a few more times while catching my breath, finally taking note of her softness still holding my semi, the wetness of her cum, the warmth of her ass still pressed against my groin.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t back out quick as fuck after finishing.
Groaning, I slid out, grasping the base of the condom to keep it in place, actually missing the feel of her warm skin against mine. “Bathroom?” I asked, wondering over the sudden weakness in my legs as she sighed, her hand hanging lax between her spread legs.
“Back of the hall on the left,” she whispered, her tone hinting at a smile.
“You alright?” I asked before moving away.
“Never been better,” she replied on a sigh, lifting her head to peer over her shoulder at me. “That was fucking hot.”
My lips twitched at the curse word on hers, and my dick attempted to swell again at the flush on her face, the sated sleepiness in her eyes.
“Be right back,” I said rather than reach out to caress the gorgeous globes of her ass like my fingers itched to do.
A few minutes later, I exited the bathroom to find Pia unmoved. I pressed the warm, wet towel I’d brought along for her against her inner thigh, and she sighed, thankfully lifting her still dangling hand to care for what I couldn’t.
“Don’t leave yet,” she said, vulnerability in her eyes when she finally stood and looked my way.
“I won’t.” I’d tucked my dick away, telling myself we were done for the night. A woman’s ass hadn’t ever felt so goddamn good—hadn’t ever felt good to the point I wanted more than the wet hole between.
A muscle in my jaw ticked as my gaze lingered on Pia’s backside while she walked a bit shakily to the bathroom. At the click of the door, I slumped on the couch and closed my eyes, tipping my head back where I’d gripped minutes earlier, lost in lust, lost in need.
Fucking lost in Pia.
Best feeling ever. Also, s
cariest fucking thing I’d ever experienced. I couldn’t deny wanting more, but not just getting off. I wanted more of her, her thoughts, her laughter, her dimple.
Wanting led to heartache, though. The need for physical affirmation would leave me grasping, hopeless, and hurting.
“Fuck.” I scrubbed a hand down over my face, pulling on the end of my beard as the whiskers slid against my palm.
Pia joined me a few minutes later—I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving out of fear, hurting her when she’d asked me to stay.
Sleep shorts and a thin tank top covered her curves from my roaming gaze, and barely at that.
My dick took note of the hardened nipples of her large breasts, and for the first time in my life, I wondered what it felt like to fuck a pair of tits like hers rather than just get myself off to watching another guy do it on some porn site.
I cleared my throat and forced my attention on her face as she settled on the couch, sideways, her knee mere inches from my thigh. Rigidity kept me in place, my stomach knotted and palms sweating even though I’d been balls deep inside her body minutes earlier.
“Are you okay?” she whispered, and I shied away from the hand she reached toward mine atop my thigh. “Sorry.”
I nodded as she pulled her hand back.
“My father was my hero when I was young,” I heard myself toss out what few of my Viper brothers knew. I wanted her to know the truth. Every goddamn bit of it. “Used to carry me everywhere, hug and kiss me. Ruffle my hair.” I swallowed against the tightness in my throat I hadn’t experienced for years when remembering the better days of my childhood.
“I fucking thrived on his affection—more so than my mom’s. I lived for his words of edification, his touch that assured me of his love. Drank it down like a parched little bastard.”
“When did he stop?” Pia asked when I paused.
I lifted my focus off my lap I hadn’t realized I’d moved off her in the replays from my mind.
Her intuitive stare held me transfixed.
“When Mom came home from the hospital with Jenny.”
Pia waited while my stomach twisted over revealing that truth I hadn’t told anyone.
I fucking spilled, spewed out the shit of my childhood—the heartache of losing my father’s love and attention, gaining the drunken wrath from hands that had once gently consoled and showed love.