Sinner on a Steel Horse (Erotic Motorcycle Club Biker Romance)

by Tara Shade

  “So? Knowing people is awful. Being by yourself, that’s where it’s at.”

  He pulled a cigarette out of the pocket of his vest and lit up. The smoke smelled sweet and fragrant. It had been so long since I had smelled a cigarette. I had been a smoker in high school, carrying a pack in the pocket of my Catholic schoolgirl skirt or even tucked into my bra strap and thinking I was so bad. Of course, I hadn’t smoked since I had gotten pregnant and then not since I had got to the girls’ home.

  “So, what’s your name?”

  “Sister Marie Sanchez.”

  “Marie. That’s a pretty name. That was my older sister’s name.”

  “Really? Was?”

  “She’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I,” he said with a sigh, blowing a ring of smoke drifting out of his lips.

  “What’s your gang called?” I said quickly, trying to change the subject. He had been looking at me expectantly, as if he wanted a piece of holy wisdom—a promise that his sister was dancing like an angel in heaven with all the saints. But at this moment, I didn’t feel like passing on the good word.

  “The Damned,” he said with a smile. He pointed to the tattoo in his arm.

  “It’s Dante,” I said, smiling back.

  “Good eye. I love Dante.”

  “So do I,” I said quickly. “I learned Italian so I could read it in the original. I told the sisters I wanted to read theology but I read Dante and Boccaccio instead.”

  Finn grinned.

  “Speak some Italian to me, sister,” he said leaning back. I gulped. I hadn’t expected to have to recite anything but fortunately, I did have a few passages committed to memory…

  I began:

  “Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita

  mi ritrovai per una selva oscura,

  ché la diritta via era smarrita.

  Ahi quanto a dir qual era è cosa dura

  esta selva selvaggia e aspra e forte

  che nel pensier rinova la paura!

  Tant’ è amara che poco è più morte;

  ma per trattar del ben ch’i’ vi trovai,

  dirò de l’altre cose ch’i’ v’ho scorte.”

  Finn let out a long, low whistle as I finished up. His eyes were shining and he grinned at me. His smile made me want to go to sleep, made me want to fall into his arms. I had to avert my eyes, or else I was afraid he would see me blushing.

  “That’s fucking beautiful. No one writes like that, anymore, I bet. He was one in a million.”

  “Why ‘The Damned’ then?”

  “What’s wrong, sister? Do you want to save me?”

  “I already did,” I said, poking his bandages. He hissed in pain.

  “It’s because we’re damned. We’re the trash society threw out. Folks didn’t want us—not in school, not in the army, not in a job, not in a family, not in nothing. You have to belong somewhere, so the Damned, that’s where the trash belongs. That’s me. Just trash.” He pressed out the remains of his cigarette. “Not the kind of guy a girl like you should mess around with.”

  “Who said anything about messing around with you?” I demanded, not really angry but more curious than anything. As he had been speaking, I could only think of how similar the Damned seemed to… to me. Hadn’t I been cast out, unwanted, like trash? I was loved and adored and pampered my whole life until I made one mistake, one stupid mistake that tons of kids make, and then I get thrown out.

  “You’re the one who’s talking to me. You’re the one who hasn’t called the cops yet. You don’t know what I did. I could be a mass murderer for all you know. A drug dealer. A rapist. But you’re here, talking to me and taking care of me like a Good Samaritan.”

  I shrugged. “Love thy neighbor.”

  “I know a way you can love your neighbor a little better,” he said with an evil grin. I blushed harder. He reached down and began to unzip his pants.

  “Stop,” I said quickly, putting my hand over his.

  “Oh, come on, sister. No one’s going to know, and how long has it been since you tried anything like this?”

  Fuck, but he was right. The thought of fooling around with him excited me, more than anything else had in years.

  “You’re a gorgeous little thing,” he said, his breath husky. “And it’s a fucking crime… A fucking sin… That something as beautiful and sweet as you is locked up here. Don’t you agree?”

  Frankly, I did. I said a silent prayer as I took my hand away and let him unzip his pants: Forgive me, Lord, for I am about to sin…

  He slid his boxers down and revealed his tool to me: fat and thick, longer than I expected, bulging and throbbing in the open air. For a man who had just taken a shotgun blast to the gut, he sure seemed ready to go.

  “So, is this the first cock you’ve seen since you were in high school?” he asked smugly as I reached my fingers towards it. He gasped as my soft fingertips made contact with his hot flesh. I blushed and nodded.

  “Yeah. You’re… You’re a hell of a lot bigger than I was expecting.”

  “I bet you say that to all the boys.”

  I laughed shyly as I ran my fingers over his length, tracing the long vein of his cock from the base of his dick up to the throbbing, meaty tip.

  “How many girls have you knocked up with this thing?” I asked, starting to jack him slowly. I gripped him by the flesh of his cock, by his sheath, and ever so delicately began to slide his skin down, began to work his cock. My hands felt clumsy and awkward. I was out of practice.

  “None, so far.”

  “But I bet it gets a work out pretty regularly,” I pushed, sliding my finger along the fat, twitching flesh of his cock. I could feel the hunger emanating from it. I could feel his desire. I darted my eyes up to meet his. He was watching me, waiting to see how I reacted to his cock, waiting to see what I would do with it and how I would touch him. But more than that, I think he was waiting to see the same desire in my eyes.

  “You mean from my hand or from girls?” he asked with a grin. I gave him a sharp squeeze, eliciting the slightest of pained yelps from his lips.

  “From girls, silly.”

  “Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t.”

  I wasn’t going to get a good answer out of him, so I lowered my face to his cock and gave the tip a kiss. I realized then and there that I hadn’t even kissed him. Somehow, it felt more right to begin with this. We would probably never see each other again, so why bother with the kissing? We’ll just have fun and this afternoon would be a memory, the kind of thing I’d take with me during my years at the convent—proof of my defiance towards the mother superior, proof that I was still a woman, underneath the habit and robes.

  His flesh was hot and tasted salty and sweaty. As my lips ran over his skin, I was seized by an almost uncontrollable hunger—the kind that I knew wouldn’t be sated just by this encounter. Damn it all to hell, I thought to myself, as I began to lick him.

  I ran my tongue from the base of his cock up to his thick tip, swirling my hot, wet mouth around the fat head of his cock. He grunted in delight and reached out to run a hand through my hair. That was the first time in years a man had run his hands through my hair. Hell, that was the first time in years a man had touched me. The touch of his fingers made me feel like he was dropping little pinpricks of electricity onto my skull, like I were one of those pink electric globes you put your fingers on to generate static electricity. His hands were surprisingly gentle, though, in spite of the calluses I could see dotting his palms and finger tips.

  “Damn, but that’s good. You must have been a natural in high school.”

  Well, I definitely had been well-praised for the… three blow jobs I had managed to give my freshman year before I was taken out of school. I hadn’t thought much of it at the time but I guess it’s like riding a bike. You never really forget.

  Now, I took him into my mouth, letting my plump, wet lips run over his thickness, letting him enter me. God, but it felt amazing, havin
g this hot, throbbing piece of flesh in my mouth, having every part of it touch me, be subsumed in me. I ran my tongue along his shaft as I guided my mouth on and off of his cock. I even let my teeth run along the underside of his massive length, scraping his shaft and drawing more soft moans from his quivering lips.

  “Aw, fuck, that’s good…” he grunted. “Go faster.”

  I pulled off his cock.

  “We’re doing things on my schedule, mister.”

  He scowled in mock frustration as I slid him back into my mouth, puckering my lips as he went so that he got the full effect of my sucking him. Finally, I began to bob my head, pursing my lips so that he slid in and out easily. I went slow, however, making it pleasurably torturous for him. I wanted him to want his relief. I wanted him to earn it. More than anything, I wanted him to remember me. Even though I knew this could be nothing but a one-night stand (disregarding the fact that it was four in the afternoon) I wanted this to be something more. I wanted something more than a chance encounter out of this. But it was impossible, and so the only way I could make sure it was something more was if I made these moments unforgettable for Finn.

  And judging from the way he moaned and held onto me as I sucked him, I was well on my way.

  “Oh, god, Marie, Jesus Christ…” he grunted, thrusting his hips up into my mouth, the fat tip of his cock claiming a few more inches of my mouth. I began to bob my head faster and faster, coming almost all the way off his cock before plunging back down onto it, letting his fat prick invade my sanctified mouth.

  “Is it good?” I whispered in between sloppy, slurpy sucks.

  “It’s fucking excellent,” he answered as I started to play with his balls, teasing and stroking them as I sucked him faster and faster. I even let his cock slide down my throat, gagging a little bit but maintaining my composure as his cock disappeared deeper and deeper into my mouth, almost till my nose was buried in his pubic hair. He grunted as I sucked him, his cock twitching and spasming in my mouth. God, but I loved the feeling of his dick in my mouth. I loved the way it felt, its warmth and weight and the way he seemed to want his release so, so badly…

  “Fuck… Marie… I’m getting close…”

  He gripped me hard by the hair and, with that, he was cumming. Stream after stream of hot cum flooded my mouth. I gagged only slightly but almost immediately, I found myself sucking his cum down, swallowing it obediently, like a good girl—like his girl. It was salty and only slightly bitter—so much different from what I remembered in high school. I decided I liked it. I decided I liked his cum and I slurped down every drop greedily, licking the remains off his cock.

  “Well, hot damn,” he said with a satisfied sigh, putting his cock away. Back into his pants it disappeared, my lips having given it a final kiss goodbye.

  “Was that okay?” I asked shyly. I don’t know why but, all of a sudden, I felt very unsure of myself—very concerned that he wouldn’t have liked it.

  “Girl, that was amazing,” Finn said, pulling me in for a kiss. And god, that kiss… His lips were hot and addictive, like fires raking over my mouth. As we kissed, I felt myself melt into him a bit, holding onto his strong shoulders, feeling the muscles undulating beneath his flesh. I didn’t want him to go, though I knew he must. We lived in different worlds and though they had collided for an afternoon, there was no way we could be together.

  He slid his hands underneath my sweatshirt and I gasped, feeling his strong fingers on my breasts. I was wearing a ratty, completely unsexy bra—the only kind of bra nuns ever wear. I found myself blushing, but not because I was embarrassed that he was touching my breasts. I had always had a nice set, I thought, and I was popular in high school because of it. I often missed those halcyon days of flirting awkwardly with boys on the bus in middle school, of unbutton my blouse an extra few buttons so that they could snag a peek at my growing cleavage.

  No, the reason I was embarrassed was the way I was dressed. I felt so totally unsexy, I found myself shying away from his hands, no matter how much I wanted them. He persisted and I grabbed his wrists, forcing his hands down to his sides.

  “Oh, what’s wrong…” he growled, that hungry look in his handsome eyes. “You’re upset now because you broke your stupid vows?”

  “No, no, no… I just…”

  I couldn’t look him in the eye. I covered myself—I felt naked, even though I was still fully clothed. I had fantasized about doing something like this but I never looked like I did now: I was never in an overgrown sweatshirt, muddy from a day of gardening, sunburned and gross. But even as I looked down at the ground, down at my blistered feet encased in strong, workman’s boots, Finn caught me by the chin and tilted my head up.

  “Hey, there, sister,” he cooed softly. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”

  “I just… It’s stupid.”

  He pulled me close into a kiss. I let myself be kissed, let his lips and tongue mold my mouth to hit. It felt good and for a moment, I felt myself start to forget, start to slide. But then I pushed him away again.

  “No, I’m sorry, I feel so gross. I’m disgusting. How can you be into this? Are you just that desperate?”

  He let out a harsh, short laugh. It was the kind of laugh you’d expect to hear from a man just condemned to die, but there was a warmth in that laugh—unexpected, but it was there, and it made me want to throw my arms around his strong neck and tumble into the turnips with him.

  “Let me show you something,” he said. He dug into the pocket of his worn blue jeans and pulled out a cell phone—one of the filthiest, most beaten up, cracked smartphones that’s ever walked this earth, I was positive. He held it up and snapped a picture of me. I looked down as the camera clicked. He flipped the phone around, showing me my picture.

  “Does that look like what a desperate man goes for?”

  I resisted for as long as I could but before long, I found my eyes drifting upward to look at my picture. I all but gasped. It was so long since I had seen my own reflection in the mirror as that of a woman and not of a sexless sister and… I was pretty. My dark hair was a mess but not an unpleasant one. I wore no make up but I didn’t need it. Years of healthy living and eating, years of regular exercise and no liquor, no sweets, nothing bad, it had all left me with a thin, model’s face, my dark eyes looking all the bigger for it. There was some dirt on my cheek but it didn’t look out of place. I looked like a diamond in the rough, a flower in the dust. I had no idea I looked like this. How had I been missing that for years?

  “See, I shouldn’t have shown that to you…” Finn said with a laugh. “Now, you’re never going to want to touch me again, since you know you’re better’n that—“

  I cut him off with a kiss. I guided his hands up my sweatshirt, to my aching breasts. He teased my hot flesh and I rewarded him with a moan. My hard nipples hadn’t been touched like this, hadn’t been teased like this… The feeling of his rough hands, digging into my bra, groping and stroking my soft, neglected breasts, it all drove me wild. Goddamn, but sinning was good.

  As he stroked my nipples, I undid my bra and slid it off for him, out under my sweatshirt. I pulled my sweatshirt up and grabbed him by the head. I forced his mouth onto my right nipple and I gasped as he began to suckle enthusiastically.

  “Oh, god, Finn!” I cried out in delight as his hot, wet tongue washed over my sensitive flesh, teasing and slathering my skin with his hot desire.

  “Was that what you wanted, sister?” he growled between kisses and nips. “That’s what you’ve been aching for for years, isn’t it?”

  I didn’t want to confess that it was… It most definitely was.

  I began to undo my jeans. My belt came off and then, keeping my breasts firmly pressed into his mouth, I slid my jeans down my long, muscled legs. I was wearing the most boring, the most plain, the most conservative and dull underwear you can imagine but I didn’t give a damn. I lost them and threw them into the dirt, as if casting off my sisterhood—if only for the day.

  I slid his
cock out again. His soldier stood at attention, twitching and saluting me. I was wet, wetter than I ever could remember being. My juices ran down my thighs as I straddled him and pressed the hot, throbbing tip to my wet hole. I couldn’t believe I was about to do this… This had to be a fantasy, a delicious dream.

  If it were a dream, then I didn’t want to wake up.

  He switched to my other nipple as I slid down his shaft, gasping as I was penetrated for the first time in years. Finn let out a soft groan.

  “Jesus Christ, you feel like a virgin…” he groaned.

  “I only ever had sex once before,” I whispered huskily as I pressed myself down all the way onto him, our hips meeting, the hair on our crotches intermingling, building a forest of sexuality and passion between our legs. “And that was over four years ago. I might as well be a virgin.”