I was beginning to feel small. I swallowed heavily and nodded. A very inaudible yes puffed from my lips.
“Because I like having you on the back of my bike. I have no fucking idea why, I really don’t, because I hate bitches on the back of my bike. But for some God damned reason, having you back there makes me feel, at least for as long as we’re riding, like I’m normal. Well, Avery, I got a news flash for you. I’m far from normal.”
He snapped the rubber band more times than I could count.
Yeah, that’s not the ‘I think you’re way too cute’ snap, is it?
“I’ve been shot at and missed, and I’ve been shot at and hit. I’ve been beaten, burned, cut, stabbed, and I’ve gone long enough without food and fucking water that I should have died. I’ve been in more fucking fights than any professional boxer, and my left arm is pinned back together with metal screws - because the third time it broke, I didn’t have time or the money to fix it. I’ve been to jail more times than I can count on my fingers and toes. No, Avery, I’m far from normal. You want to know why they call me Slice?” he growled.
I stood and stared. I suppose I should have been scared or surprised. For some reason I was neither. I was beginning to like him more. For the first time since we had been spending time together, he was coming out of his shell. I attempted to swallow the rock in my throat, but couldn’t, so I simply nodded my head once. He reached down and grabbed each side of his cut, and pulled upward, unsnapping it.
He leaned over, hung the vest from his ape hangers, and turned toward me. As he stood facing me, he reached down and pulled his tee shirt over his head. He quickly turned, tossed it over his shoulder and onto the seat of the bike. As he turned around, now shirtless, I gazed like an idiot at his upper body.
Oh my God.
His chest was massive, and far more defined than I would have imagined. His stomach didn’t have an ounce of fat on it. In fact, it was chiseled to perfection. His upper arms were solid muscle, and now that he was angry, were quite swollen. But my focus wasn’t solely on his muscles or well-proportioned body. My focus, at least now, was on the twelve-inch-long scar on his stomach.
And the one below it that was eight or so inches long.
And the one across his chest.
And the one that went from his rib cage toward his back and appeared to never end.
The wounds didn’t seem to have ever been stitched or taken care of by a medical professional. It looked as if he’d been tortured by a chainsaw wielding maniac. As I stood and stared, he slowly shuffled his feet and turned around.
On his back were smaller scars, but there were more than I could count. They ranged in size from an inch to several inches long. Without speaking, he turned around again and grabbed his tee shirt. As I stood and stared, he pulled it over his head and covered his body.
“That’s why they call me Slice. Now, before you ask, about three or four of them came from fights. The other thirty or so?” he asked as he ran his fingers through his hair. “My Ol’ Man. You wanna know why I don’t have any on my arms? Because a shirt wouldn’t hide ‘em when I went to school, that is on the days he would let me go. And none of them ever got stitched because I couldn’t let the doctors see ‘em or he’d have been arrested. When I was a kid he’d already been to the joint twice. One more time, and it’d been life in prison. Well, now he’s doing life in prison, and I’ve got these to remember him by.”
“Turn around,” he demanded and he stepped toward me.
“Axton, I…”
“Turn the fuck around you question asking bitch,” he demanded.
Reluctantly, I turned around. The park bench was only a few inches in front of me. I felt as if I was trapped, but I faced it anyway. As he positioned himself behind me, he raised his hand to the left side of my jaw, clenched it between his thumb and forefinger, and tilted my head to the right. As he breathed into my ear, he pressed his hips into the back of my ass.
His breath against my ear caused goose bumps to rise along the length of my arms.
“You feel that?” he breathed.
All I could feel was his warm breath against my face. I swallowed heavily.
“Feel what?” I squeaked.
“That stiff cock of mine, Avery. It’s pressing against your ass. You feel it?” he asked as he pressed his hips against me with a little more force.
I nodded my head and whimpered.
“That lump you feel rising against that little round ass of yours, you want to know what I call it?” he growled.
Still holding my jaw firmly, his control of me was apparent. His strong hand not only held my face in the position he wanted it to be, but provided me a sense of ownership and restraint. Had he released me, I would have melted into a puddle right then and there. I nodded my head again and puffed out another dry yes.
“I call it progress,” he said as he bit my earlobe between his teeth.
With my ear still clenched firmly between his teeth, he continued. “For the last fifteen years, my cock ain’t been much good; probably either from my Ol’ Man beating me, or from all the women who fucked me over, hell who knows.”
“Reach back there with your right hand,” he demanded.
I stood in shock and trembled. Not from fear, but from nothing other than one hundred percent alpha male arousal.
Although we were standing in the hot sun, his breath against my ear caused me to shiver, “You little tease. You said whatever I told you to do, you’d do. Now reach your skinny little arm back here and grab that big fucking cock of mine.”
I reached behind me, slid my hand along the thigh of his jeans, and felt around until…
Oh God.
“I said grab it. If you can’t grab it any harder than that, I’ll toss your little ass in the dirt and ride the fuck out of here. Now grab it,” he growled.
Staring straight ahead with my eyes closed, I squeezed his cock firm in my hand. It felt as if I were gripping a baseball bat.
“Now tell me just what it is you feel.” he said as he released my ear from his teeth.
“Progress?” I squeaked.
He released my jaw, spun me around, and stared into my eyes.
“You’re God damned right. That’s progress.”
“Now you want to know why that motherfuckers hard?”
I bit my lower lip and lowered my head.
“Because every time you stick your hands in your pockets and twist around like you’re some innocent little farm girl, it makes me want to fuck you. Bad. And for right now…”
He reached down and grabbed the rubber band.
Snap!
Snap!
Snap!
“For right now, I’m exercising patience,” he huffed. “Now, you got any more God damned questions?”
I shifted my gaze to meet his. My eyes now trained on his, I reached toward my left hand. As my fingers found the hair tie which was wrapped around my wrist, I pulled against it and released it sharply into my skin.
Snap!
Incapable of speaking, I simply stood and lightly shook my head.
Again, I pulled against the hair tie.
Snap!
Officially head over motherfucking heels, sir.
AVERY
Yet another sexless shower with Axton, and I was frustrated beyond comprehension. My sheer attraction to him, his gorgeous looks, and the fact he was hung like an absolute motherfucker made seeing him naked, and not having sex, all too difficult. As I walked to his room wrapped in a towel, I wondered what color baggy sweats he was going to give me to wear.
Standing beside the bed shirtless and dressed in pajama pants, Axton seemed out of place. All I had ever seen him wear were jeans, short of falling asleep with him the night before. And, on that night, he wore black sweats. They were close enough to the appearance of jeans it just seemed as if he were wearing black jeans. Standing in the well-lit room in plaid cotton pants was something new, and as much as I hated to admit it, I liked it. I liked it a lot.
/>
As I entered the room, he turned his upper body toward me. His face seemed to harbor a hint or embarrassment or guilt. Probably from all of the scars, I figured. As drawn as I was to his muscular body, I made a conscious effort to shift my gaze away from him and not stare. As I prepared to ask him what he wanted me to wear, he reached for the bed and lifted up a black cotton spaghetti-strap summer dress.
“Put this on, I want to see you in it,” he said as he dangled the dress in front of him.
Seriously? I don’t want to wear one of your former slut’s clothes.
I scrunched my nose slightly. “Uhhm, where’d you get it?”
“I bought it from the mall last week when I went to Wichita. I shoved the bag behind my Mexican blanket. Fucker flapped all the way here, I thought it was going to fly off, but it made the trip,” he said.
You bought me a dress?
Short of a gift from my father as a child, no man had ever bought me anything. I bit my quivering lower lip and held out my hand. As he tossed the dress over my outstretched arm, he smiled a genuine smile. As I admired his teeth, I silently wished he’d smile more. He didn’t have the teeth of what I would have expected a biker to have; they were quite straight and considerably whiter than mine. I lifted the dress and glanced at the tag.
Von Maur, size 2, $125.00. Holy shit, Axton. You didn’t have to…
“I was headed back from a meeting with a few other clubs and I stopped to see what they had. I thought you’d look cute in that little fucker. Hell, all you ever wear are shorts. Suppose you can’t wear it on the bike, so you just as well put it on now,” he said.
I dropped the towel, and stood completely naked in front of him. I pulled the dress over my head, along my torso, and past my hips. It fit perfectly. After remembering he didn’t have a mirror in his room, I held my index finger in the air excitedly. “Hold please.”
I ran to the bathroom and opened the door. Standing in the opening, I looked into the mirror. Not only did the dress fit perfectly, it appeared I had gained a few pounds in all the right places. I turned, pressed the dress to my stomach and gazed in the mirror. I bend down slightly and stared at my reflection. I looked marvelous; I was braless and it looked like I actually had cleavage. My butt looked cute. As I felt Axton’s presence behind me, I turned to face him. My mouth said the words thank you, but no sound escaped my lips. Overcome with joy, lust, a strong sense of self-worth, and an attraction to the man standing before me, I merely stood and stared.
“You uhhm. You look beautiful, Avery,” he stammered.
Unable to speak without blubbering, I raised my hands in the air, smiled, and repeated my silent thank you. I watched curiously as he reached over, slipped one arm behind my legs, another along my shoulders, and picked me up from my feet. My head began to spin. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he carried me toward the room. As he lowered me to the bed, I realized I didn’t care what his next move was. The dress, my newfound curvaceous body, his expression of my beauty, and the progress we had made so far was enough for me to survive the entire summer.
With my legs dangling over the edge slightly, he knelt on the floor at the end of the bed and raised his index finger to his lips. I lifted myself onto my elbows and watched as he pushed my thighs apart, raised the dress to my waist, and positioned his head between my thighs. Softly, his mouth kissed up the length of my thighs until I felt his tongue against my overly anxious pussy. My entire body shuddered as I felt his tongue against my clit.
Oh God, seriously? We went from zero to a hundred miles an hour instantly.
The slight pressure from his finger penetrating me caused me to inhale sharply. I bit my lower lip and craned my neck to watch as he slowly began to finger me and lick my soaking wet pussy simultaneously. The rhythmic motions of both his tongue against my clit and his finger working in and out of my wetness became expected and quite a pleasure. Anticipating each pleasurable move, my breathing began to be as predictable as his tongue and finger.
If you expect me to last any length of time, we’d better slow down.
I felt myself reaching a climax of new proportion. After Axton, my vibrator would become useless, and every orgasm preceding this one would be nothing short of some faint memory which would eventually fade into nothingness. As he continued to lick and slurp against my clit and work his magic finger in and out, l lowered my head and bit my lip.
I couldn’t watch any longer. His two day’s growth of bad-boy beard and the muscles in his arms combined with his love for sucking and licking my pussy proved to be all too much. I wanted this to last at least another sixty seconds before I exploded into another atmosphere. My ears began to ring, and I felt itchy all over.
And.
I.
Screamed.
“Holy fucking Jesus fuck!” I screamed.
I felt as if I was going to die. The, I’m headed to heaven type of death, not the, Oh shit I’m going to die type. Knowing heaven had no place for a girl like me, I continued to scream as I opened and closed my eyes repeatedly. Visions of Axton came and went and he continued to flick his tongue against my now swollen clit. Combined with his finger’s ability to find whatever the fuck that spot is on the top of my pussy, he extracted another earth shattering orgasm.
“Oh…” I bit against my lip.
I opened my mouth and stared at the ceiling. “My…”
I looked down at his face, still buried between my thighs, and blinked repeatedly, “Axton…”
My entire body shook from another five-minute-long orgasm. Webster’s Dictionary should have a picture of the face I made through the course of having it under the definition for orgasmic bliss. As I came back down to earth, I realized although I meant to say Oh my God, and I actually flubbed it into Oh my Axton. It was, however, a perfect expression for how I felt. Right now, Axton, to me, was God. He was my beginning and my end. My savior, my salvation, my bad-boy, and my alpha male biker, he was my…
Holy shit!
As he pulled down his pajama pants, I almost passed out. His cock was rigid and massive. From taking two showers with him, I knew it was huge, but I had no idea it would grow into what was between his legs. As he stood there stroking it, I realized I had no idea he’d even stopped licking me. I must have slipped away to some other distant place for a moment. Maybe it was the fact that deep down inside I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything or anyone in my life.
As his knee pressed into the comforter, and I felt his full weight being added to the bed, I wanted to ask about protection, diseases, and at least tell him I was precautious enough to have been taking birth control, just in case. As he climbed into place on top of me, I stared down past his massive chest, chiseled stomach, flaring biceps, and focused on his rigid cock. I opened my mouth and inhaled a short breath.
“Fuck me,” escaped my lips.
I should really have him wear a condom.
“Fuck me,” I screamed.
“Now. Just fuck me. Please?” I pleaded.
His hand moved to his cock. I closed my eyes. Even though I was soaked, and my pussy was beyond willing, the pressure against my pussy was horrendous. His cock was huge and if pussies came in sizes, mine was without a doubt an X-Small. I bit my lip. I felt as if my hips became dislodged somehow. As soon as he finally penetrated me I opened my eyes in disbelief. The pain, although deep and dull, was pleasurable. As he slowly worked himself in and out, I began to feel more and more like this might actually work. I suppose, in a perfect world, a large cock and a small pussy are the perfect combination. The beginning, no doubt, is utter hell.
I’d always day dreamed about being with a bad-boy and having them do with me as they wished; tossing me around from room to room and maneuvering me through no less than half a dozen various sexual positions. Possibly held upside down while being eaten out, or being bent over the hand rail at a football game and being fucked from behind while the crowd cheered us on.
Having Axton on top of me exceeded any expectatio
n whatsoever of crazy bad-boy sex. His weight against me, his chest pressed to mine, and his warm breath against my neck was far more of a turn-on than anything I had or would expect to ever experience. As his hands pressed into my shoulders, he worked his massive swollen manhood in and out of my wet, tight pussy. The flesh on flesh friction, combined with being completely filled with cock proved to be all too much, and I felt myself begin to return to my heavenly orgasmic place.
I felt the dress being lifted over my head. Momentarily, I opened my eyes and attempted to focus.
“I want to feel your skin on mine,” he said.
I nodded my head and opened my mouth to say something in acknowledgement, but nothing happened. I was lost in his slow, methodical thrusts. As I felt his cock begin to swell, I bit my lip and prepared for my orgasmic explosion. Slowly, he pulled himself from inside me.
I opened my eyes in disbelief.
As he stroked his cock and pointed it at my stomach, I stared in disbelief. Although I’d love to see him jack-off and cover me in his cum, I opened my mouth. This time words actually spilled from my lips.
“Inside me. I’m on the pill. God, please. Inside me!” I barked.
As I felt his cock against my wet mound, I sighed. Within a few seconds, I was back to where I was, tingling from head-to-toe, preparing to be launched into space. As I once again felt him begin to swell, I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. His cock continued to thrust in and out of me like a man possessed was behind it.
As I heard him release a groan which would wake the dead, I joined in with my own scream of pleasure. Together, as we both reached climax, the sound of our voices was enough to cause any sane person within a mile to call the police. I shifted my gaze to meet his. His back arched, his hands held high above his head, and his fists clenched, he looked like a tattooed Greek God. As he unclenched his fists and ran his fingers through his short curly hair, he looked down and smiled.
S is for SEX Page 36