Biker Daddy: Devil's Mustangs MC

by Paula Cox

  With Erin’s approval, I’m off. The drive takes me to a part of Washington City that I have yet to venture. No streetlights, no one walking on the street. The houses are either boarded up or sealed shut with windows and doors with multiple locks. I park my car under the one dim, flickering light next to an ancient phone booth and press the lock button.

  Cal is waiting for me at the front door. He leans against the wooden, chipped frame, his arms crossed coolly in front of his chest. He’s still got that tight black t-shirt and dark jeans on from earlier today.

  “You’re early, you know.” I can’t tell by the tone of his voice if he’s angry or not. Then again, he’s a hard guy to read even when he’s being obvious. His body language is just always steamed.

  I try to make a joke, “To be early is to be on time. To be on time is to be late. To be late is to be—”

  “Dead.” He laughs almost manically, “My dad used to say that when I showed up five minutes after a meeting had started.”

  “A meeting? A family business?”

  “Something like that.”

  Cal ushers me inside to a small front room where a few men in black leather jackets and huge motorcycle boots are playing cards loudly. The smell of smoke fills the room almost instantly when Cal closes it behind me, sealing me in. Behind the men are two women, cleaning up beer cans and bottles discarded on the floors and couches. Compared to them in their tight jean shorts and cut off tops, I feel so out of place. Yet no one even takes notice of me.

  I follow Cal back towards a kitchen where Maddie is scribbling on a drawing notepad. When she sees me, her eyes light up. She holds up her notebook proudly for me to see, “Miss Springer! Check this out!”

  I study the drawing she’s done. It’s of a sunset and an open road. In the center is a motorcycle riding towards it. The drawing itself is excellent, way advanced for her age. It has perfect shading and intricate lines. I’m impressed. “This is amazing, Maddie!” I say earnestly, “I had no idea you were such a great artist!”

  “Thanks! Dad got me these pencils and drawing pads for Christmas last year. It’s what the pros use!” She looks up at Cal with a wide smile. This is the first time I’ve seen her look at him with anything but fear. And to see her do it here, in this run down house full of men screaming and drinking, is way out of what I'd expected.

  Cal kneads her shoulders with his hands and then says, “How about you take that upstairs? Miss Springer and I have got some talking to do.”

  Maddie obediently leaves, taking her drawings with her up the stairs to where I assume her bedroom is. I watch her walk away, stepping over discarded shirts and bottles. Cal notices my disapproving look and adds defensively, “I know this ain’t what you teachers want to see, but it’s our reality.”

  “It’s, uh, different. But I don’t usually make house calls, Cal.”

  “Something tells me someone like you doesn’t do any type of house call…”

  I get his implication almost immediately. I’m surprised at how quickly he can turn that smooth charm on. He’s an easy, horrible flirt. But I take the bait. “I make enough house calls.”

  “Really? When’s the last time you did one?” He sits down at the table, and I join him in the seat across from him.

  Defensively, I respond, “It’s been awhile, okay? But I made them.”

  He leans back, his arms still crossed as he studies me. After a long moment, he leans over and picks up Maddie’s backpack. Fishing for a notebook, he pulls a black one out and hands it to me, “My girl’s smart, you know. And she doesn’t deserve to be in remedial classes. Maybe she’s bored and acting up because you don’t challenge her enough.”

  It’s a fair point. And he has the evidence. The notebook is full of perfect spelling and English tests. My handwriting marks them all. “Maddie is brilliant, a hard worker, a creative mind. But she still struggles. I don’t see any social studies tests in here. If you had those, you’d see that she's failing to pick up on important facts and figures that is important for junior high.”

  I hand him back the notebook and he thumbs through the papers quickly. Maddie cleverly forgot to put those tests in the pile of perfect performances. He growls towards me, “She still doesn’t deserve to be in that classroom.”

  “No, she doesn’t. But it wasn’t her learning or test grades that got her there. It was her behavior. Maddie cannot act like – like a—”

  He finishes what I want to say, but don’t dare to, “Like me. She’s acting like me.”

  I stiffen my lip and nod in agreement. “She can’t act all big and tough. It’s not gonna get her anywhere in school except in the principal’s office where I can’t help her.”

  “That’s bullshit. You know she was just fucking standing up for herself. You expect her to get pushed around by some bastard’s son?”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t expect that at all. But she should've told me instead of running to him.”

  Cal stands dramatically, the papers on his lap falling to the ground. “I didn’t raise no rat!” he fumes.

  “And I don’t teach barbarians,” I return simply.

  That shuts him up. I’d crossed a line just there, and it amps the tension up a hundredfold. Something has shifted between us. I stand as well, grabbing my purse from the tabletop. My eyes search for the door, but how he's breathing heavily, terrifying and enraged, keeps me in place.

  He takes a step towards me, just as he did earlier today. And then, I feel it. His hand wraps around my head and under my ponytail. He pulls me in close and up, finding his lips. My arms hold in their place at my side as he locks me in. I don’t dare to move. I’m too overcome with the power of his mouth and his breath in mine.

  Cal takes another step towards me as we embrace, and my hand lands on his hard, steely chest. I give in, placing the palm on it, feeling the vibrations of his heart underneath his shirt. It’s the same frantic rhythm of mine. My other hand wraps around his neck for balance as he lifts me up to my toes, putting me face to face with him and his mouth.

  Then, it happens. A bang. A shout. Glass breaking. Cal pulls me down to the ground, breaking the table under our weight. He’s on top of me, holding me firmly in place as I scream into the darkness.

  Chapter 9: The Run

  CAL

  Glass covers my back as I press into Michelle. I hold my jacket over her head, praying it will be enough. There’s screaming. Not just from her, but from the room next to me where the boys were playing cards just moments ago and the girls were waiting on them. One of the girls, in particular, is shrieking and panting, and I can only imagine what just happened in that room.

  Finally, I hear it. Engines revving up and the squealing of tires on the pavement. I stand towards the broken window where the bullets shot through and pull out my own gun from my waistband. I quickly fire off a few shots towards where I can still see the back end of their bike’s tire, but they’re already gone into the night. There’s no use even attempting going after them.

  There’s more important things on my mind as I dash upstairs towards Maddie’s room. Michelle has gotten up from her spot on the floor and is following me, shouting her name over my own voice. I fling open her unlocked door to find her laying on the ground in her purple pajamas with the monkeys on it. Her drawing notebook is still lying on her dresser floor.

  When she sees both her teacher and me, she leaps up and runs into my arms. “What was that? Is everyone okay?”

  I smooth her hair in place, kissing her forehead. She’s alive. She’s alive. That’s all I care about right now. I whisper to her, “Just a window. We’re okay. Don’t worry about anything else.”

  “What about Mick and Ace? Is Melinda okay?” Maddie, despite being the toughest kid I've ever met, still can surprise me with how big of a heart she has.

  The truth is I don’t know how they are or what happened in that living room. By my account, the shooter fired at least three shots in the kitchen window and another 5 at the house. Who knows if
the first three were enough to give them warning. But I can still hear a woman wailing, and Michelle slowly closes the door behind us, dampening the screams.

  “Don’t worry about them. I’ll check on ‘em in a minute. But for right now, I need you and Michelle, er, Miss Springer to stay up here in this room while I call the rest of the club. You got it?” I watch her as she nods and then sits down on her bed.

  Michelle, on the other hand is not in agreement. She walks out of the room and into the hallway. I pull her into my bedroom so Maddie can’t hear her argument. Her voice is shaking as she says, “I’m not staying here, Cal. Let me take Maddie someplace safe.”

  “Someplace safe? Lady, the safest place is here with me guarding you and her. You can’t go back now. They’ve got your license plate, I’m sure. They’ll be looking for you if you go back home.”

  She looks at me in disbelief. I know it’s hard for her to understand, but motorcycle gangs in this town run the show. We don’t just do our own thing – we are the thing. We have our hand in everything from the cops to the local government. Hell, her own job probably got approved by someone at the top of the heap.

  When she notices I’m not budging, she falls back into my bed in a slump, her shoulders hunched over as she turns white as my sheets. I slowly sit next to her and whisper, “I’m sorry about this. I shouldn’t have invited you here knowing the gang’s at war with the Coyotes.”

  “What am I supposed to do now?” She turns to face me, catching my eyes in the darkness. Her eyes are glistening with tears, her bottom lip trembling.

  I pull her into me, letting her lean on my chest. When she looks up at me, I do what I want to do without hesitation. I kiss her. It’s softer than the one before, but the heat is still there. Our hearts are both pumping on high, and I can feel her push back, placing all her worries in our embrace.

  I hold onto her for a long, lingering moment. She needs this. I need this. Our adrenaline is keeping us locked, neither of us wanting to stop, neither of us knowing how to say no. I place an arm around her hip and lift her up quickly, placing her onto my lap. She lets out small squeal before finding my lips again, this time more passionately and excited than before.

  I hitch up her dress, exposing the top of her bare thigh as my hands grab at her flesh. She’s soft and sweet, not bony in the places most girls are. Yet she’s slim enough to fit perfectly on my lap. Her hips move and rock up against the seam of my pants as she takes over the kissing. Her hands hold my head in place forcing it to follow her. Normally, giving up control like this would drive me crazy, but I want her to need me like this.

  One of those hands of hers dips behind my back and finds the tail of my shirt. She nudges it up, scraping her fingernails into my back as the shirt flies off me. I let out a hiss from the small sensation of pain. But she’s there in seconds, moving from off my lap and towards my back where she kisses the red, burning tracks she has left.

  When she comes up, her hands begin to massage, following the lines of my tattoos up my spine towards my neck. Her mouth follows along, licking and caressing me softly. My mind struggles to keep up as she appears by the side of my face, taking my ear into her mouth and using her tongue to play with the lobe. Her hands unbuckle my pants, which I slide off to the floor with my boxers.

  I watch as she licks the palm of her hand and then places it on top of my cock. It’s cool, yet gentle like a strong, refreshing breeze. Michelle uses a finger first to trace the length, circling the head of my shaft. It’s a tease, something I refuse to let other girls do. But she’s different. She’s in control. It’s not a power thing for her. It’s a desire. She wants to know me just as I want to know her.

  She places my entire cock in her hand, feeling its weight. Already, it’s stiff and pulsing with blood and nerves. She slowly moves the skin up towards the head and then drops it down, going all the way to the bed of my pubic hair. She repeats, this time adding a small, gentle twist at top.

  Her breath tickles my ear as she innocently and sincerely asks, “Is this okay?”

  I don’t answer. Instead, I pull her in for a deep kiss, my tongue finding hers. She speeds up as our kiss intensifies. The gentle, wave like motion of her knowing hand is now pulling me into some deep, dark pit of desire I can’t escape. As my heart starts to pound, my body clenching, I place my hand on hers and stop her. She returns quickly back to my lap and waits for my next move.

  I find the zipper of her strapless dress and yank it down quickly. She wiggles out of it, keeping her black heels on. I unhook her black bra, sending it flying to the floor. Her naked chest is a thing of beauty. They’re the perfect size for my hands to grab ahold of and massage as I place her nipples in between my pointer and index finger and roll them out with the motion.

  Her head tips back in pleasure, bringing her breasts towards my face. I take a deep breath of her in. She smells just like she tasted earlier – like honey and milk and sweet nectar. I let go of one of her breasts and circle my tongue around it, tracing a line straight to the tip of her hard, brown nipple. As I reach it, she lets out a small shout of pleasure and then hums to herself as I begin to suck gently on the coffee-colored tip.

  My other hand finds her panties. She doesn’t need a warmup – she’s practically swimming in her own juices. I move the lace out of the way, releasing the strong, musky scent. I run one finger up her slit, causing her to gasp – and without warning, I lead her directly to my already hard cock. I let go of her breasts and lean her back towards the end of the bed to watch as I enter her tight pussy slowly, admiring how she takes every inch of me in.

  When I’m fully inside of her, I pick her back up and lead her hips. She’s slow to move; I can tell she just wants to feel me push deeper into her, not impale her. But I want action. I don’t give her the option. I forcibly lift her, bringing her up towards the tip of my cock, and then let go so she crashes on top of me. She catches on, using her knees to propel her up and nearly over my cock.

  She’s like an animal as she rides me. She doesn’t stop or hesitate. She doesn’t even look to me to set the motion. Once she knows what she’s doing, she takes control. And I let her. I sit back, watching her take all of me, every bit of my cock.

  But I can’t let her have all the fun. As she's in mid-ride, I stand up, taking her with me. Her pussy is pushed deep up against my shaft as I drive her towards the wall of my bedroom. Her body hits with a bang as she wraps her arms around me. I hold her hands above her head as I begin to dive farther into her.

  “Cal!” She cries out at me as I watch her face transform, “Cal! Fuck!” She manages to break her arms free as she claws into my back. Her head tilts to the side like a doll as I feel her go limp in my arms. I hold on to her tight as we fall back towards the floor. I continue to ride her until it comes over me, too. All the adrenaline, all the anger and anxiety, all the pain and pleasures of her body and mine – it takes me over, forcing my body to fall on top of hers.

  We lay there, the two of us, her body blazing hot against mine. I look up to see her panting fast, her mouth open in surprise. I smile wide, pulling her in for a long, juicy kiss as she struggles to come up for air.

  Chapter 10: Safehouse

  MICHELLE

  “What…was…that?” The air had been completely knocked out of me when he threw me up against that wall. My mouth is dry, and my body is wet with sweat, but I feel completely and totally electric.

  He pushes into me one last time, making sure to get the final feel of my body before slowly pulling out. With a small gasp, he replies, “You tell me, girl. I ain’t had it that good in years. Must’ve been the gunshots and shit.”

  He rolls off of me and reaches towards where his jeans are still lying on the floor. He tosses me my bra and panties as I quickly pull them over my legs. I could lay here all night on this floor with his body beside me, but there are things at work that I can’t forget. Those gunshots weren’t just for play.

  But I’m not exactly ready for reality. I giggle sli
ghtly as I ask, “So, let me get this straight. Your house gets shot at, and you have wild animalistic sex? Sounds like a hell of a sex life.”

  “You know it. That’s how I roll.” He pulls the shirt over his thick abs and arms and then tucks it in around the front. Purposefully sloppy – now that’s something I just don’t understand.

  I brace myself. I’m going in, “You do this with all your motorcycle girls?”

  He looks at me, his head cocked to the side as he thinks of how to proceed, “I get around, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s part of the job description.” He must sense me coiling away from that, because he quickly adds, “But it’s like I said, I ain’t had that good of a fuck in a goddamn long-ass time…”

  Cal sits back down next to me and places his head on my shoulder. Another arm wraps around my waist and then under my panties. I feel the rough tip of his index finger find my wet and worn slit as he massages around it. His hot, sweet breath against my neck makes every bit of me tingle in anticipation.