Nicky's Fire

by Nancy Fornataro

  But, he wasn't moving to stop her, so she continued kissing his neck. She couldn't resist the impulse. The man smelled good, so good. Like soap, or some other heady scent. And masculine. Leather.

  "Jesus, babe, we just did it last night." Then, to Limpy, he said, "Women. All they think about is sex."

  Limpy snorted. Then, she said sharply, looking up at Nick, "Well, I'm not gettin' enough, so you better start delivering, or I'll be lookin' around." Play the part, be the woman, she thought. And, she was enjoying this teasing of Nick. After all, what could he do in front of all these people?

  The bike was just behind Nick, and now he sat and pulled her on his lap, so she was straddled across him. His hand grabbed the hair at her nape, and he forced her to look at him. "Is that right?" he said in a low tone, as his other hand cupped her buttocks. Limpy snorted again, and moved away.

  "Yeah," she replied, somewhat shaken by the hard look he was giving her, "that's right." Maybe she'd gone too far and overdone it.

  Jerking her head forward suddenly, his lips pounded hers so fiercely, she was stunned. She felt his thigh come up between her legs, and he began pumping slowly. The nylon panties she wore slid with his every move, and she felt on fire, as he continued the teasing.

  As he pulled from the kiss, she whispered weakly, "Stop it. Please, Nick." Yes, she'd overdone it. Definitely.

  But he continued, and he pulled her head so his lips were next to her ear. "You want me, don't you?" he whispered, "I can feel it in you." His hand tightened on her hair.

  She shook her head, in spite of the heady sensations he'd created. But she did want him. She wanted him so badly right now, it was almost a physical pain.

  "Yes you do," he crooned, "come on, admit it."

  Her body was shaking from his subtle whispers, and the ache between her thighs grew worse, as he continued the leg motion slowly. Her eyes closed, and she moaned.

  "I know you do," he teased softly, "come on, Chloe. Everyone's watching us, and I won't let you off until you tell me the truth."

  But, she shook her head again. And she didn't care who was watching.

  "A little more convincing, then?" he whispered. Pulling her head back, he took her lips in both of his, sucked them gently, then, with his mouth still open, and his tongue starting to explore, he laughed gently, his breath warm and minty on her lips, "Come on," he prodded, his lips flush against hers, "tell me...tell me how much you want me, Chloe."

  "I don't...I don't want you," she protested weakly. But she knew it was a lie. Her panties were wet with desire already, and the ache there had increased, and grew stronger with every passing moment.

  "But you do," he whispered, with his lips against hers, "I can tell. Come on, talk to me. Tell me you'll do anything for me." His tongue flitted in and out of her mouth, as he laughed softly.

  "Stop. Nick..." her voice was growing weaker and weaker, as her trembling increased.

  But just as she was almost about to relent, just as she was about to tell him she wanted him like she'd wanted no other man, she heard a voice from the bar. "Nick! Quit fucking around and get in here!"

  She opened her eyes, and he stood, bringing her with him, as he still cupped her buttocks with one hand.

  Looking down at her, he said, "You're tough, babe. We'll have to work on this some more. Later."

  Then, chuckling, he finally released her.

  Straightening her skirt, trying to compose herself, she looked around and realized they were the last ones left in the parking lot.

  Grabbing her hand, he led her to the bar.

  Still a bit shaken, she looked around the place. It was a dump. Dark and dreary, it smelled like stale smoke and beer. A half—lit sign over the counter proclaimed that 'oors' was served here.

  He dragged her to a table, where Tessie and Max sat. The chair he thrust her into was rickety and coarse.

  "Plant yourself, woman. I'll be right back."

  Max left then too, and Tessie looked at her curiously. "What were you two doing out there, Chloe? A little quicky before you came in?"

  "Something like that," Chloe said dryly.

  Tessie leaned forward, and her blonde hair fell over one curious eye. "Tell me how he is, Chloe. All the girls want to know. He's really built, isn't he? He's got a big-"

  "I know," Chloe interrupted. She'd noticed the same thing at the jacuzzi. The man was built like a brick, on the top and on the bottom. "He's great," Chloe lied, wondering what he really was like in the sack, "a very good lover." Maybe she'd find out. One of these days. Soon, maybe soon.

  "I knew it!" Tessie said triumphantly. "I can always tell. A guy has a look about him when he's good in bed. And Nick has that look. Dirty-sexy, you know?"

  "Yeah," Chloe said absently, "he does, doesn't he?"

  Nick and Max returned and plunked their drinks down. Beer for everyone but Chloe, who got whiskey.

  Nick sprawled lazily in his chair, and fixed Chloe with a steady gaze.

  "See what I mean?" Tessie squealed, "He's doing it. See the way he looks at you? That's what I mean."

  Nick raised his eyebrows.

  "She thinks you look dirty-sexy," Chloe explained.

  "Nah," Nick said, grinning, "I'm just dirty."

  They sat for a few minutes, discussing a new contact Max had made, then Rhonda wandered over to them. She wore a dirty, not quite white bustier that pushed up her large breasts, so almost all of her cleavage was showing. Black leather pants and black boots completed her look, which was supposed to be sexy, but was ultimately trashy, Chloe thought.

  Rhonda posed for a minute in front of the men, who seemed unimpressed, as they continued talking.

  Then, she sniffed as she looked at Chloe's still-full glass of whiskey. "Lightweight," she said under her breath.

  Before she could stop herself, Chloe blurted out, "I can out drink you any day of the week."

  "A challenge," Max said softly, as he headed for the bar.

  Chloe groaned inwardly, and avoided Nick's frown. Why did she say that? She didn't want to get drunk.

  Max returned, and banged a bottle of whiskey on the table. "Go for it, moms."

  An hour later, Chloe had had about six shots of whiskey, and Rhonda was working on her fifth. And, the woman looked sick.

  Chloe felt pretty darn good, but she was far from drunk.

  Rhonda, however, was slurring, cussing and, Chloe thought, close to passing out.

  "You better stay away," Rhonda slurred, as her hand made a wide gesture, "jus' stay away from Action." She chug-a-lugged and finished the fifth drink, while her eyes blinked and tried to focus on Chloe. Eye make-up was smattered in black spots beneath her eyes, and her face was shiny with too much foundation and too much sweat.

  Ignoring her, Chloe asked Tessie, "You got a cigarette?" Chloe was an ex-smoker, and every time she drank, she had the urge again.

  "Yeah," Tessie said, as she lit the thing, and passed it to Chloe.

  Max and Nick were playing pool now, so the women were left alone.

  Chloe poured her seventh drink.

  Max paused before he lined up his shot. "Think she'll make it?"

  Nick said casually, as he looked over at the two women. "Yeah. She's tough."

  He watched Chloe. She'd taken off her jacket, and her tank top hung enticingly low. But, he realized she was a woman who took care of herself, aside from the whiskey drinking she was doing right now. She raised her glass to drink, and he saw firm arm muscles. She was strong, he thought, unless he kissed her. Then, she was like a little plaything, putty in his hands. And the thought of her stubbornness in the parking lot earlier made him want to laugh. She was a hell-cat. No question about it.

  But when he saw the cigarette she held in her other hand, he frowned. "Wait a minute." he told Max.

  Striding towards her, his boots thumping on the wooden floor, he said, as he reached her, "Put it out."

  "No," she said, "I want a cigarette."

  Glaring at her, he said, "No old l
ady of mine ever has a cigarette hanging off her lips. Put it out!"

  "No!" Her eyes came up and met his defiantly.

  He grabbed it from her fingers and tromped it under his boot.

  She rose, unsteadily, and he backed her against the wall. "Listen," he hissed, knowing Rhonda and Tessie couldn't hear him, "it's bad enough you got into a drinking contest with Wicked Witch of the West. But no woman of mine smokes. End of discussion."

  "So, I'm your woman, huh?" Her lips curved into a seductive smile, that smile he knew so well. Shit! Why was she so beautiful? he thought.

  "Guess what, Nicky?" she said, in a husky voice, as her body arched out towards him, "I want you. Yeah. I do. Kiss me, Nicky."

  She moved against him, sensually, and he groaned. "You aren't one of those women who get all turned on when you drink, are you?"

  She nodded, and her eyes were languid. "Yeah. I am."

  But suddenly, they were interrupted, as a fight broke out between two members. A bottle flew by their heads, and smashed on the wall, splattering them with vodka.

  Tessie ran by and grabbed at Chloe anxiously. "Let's go!" she said, "Ace has a piece, and he starts shooting. I even got hit one time."

  Nick thrust Chloe roughly towards the door, and she stumbled, almost falling on Tessie.

  The night air was cool and smelled good to Chloe, as they ran down the steps of the place. But then, gunshots sounded inside the bar.

  "Nick!" she screamed.

  But Tessie stopped her, as she started back in. "Let's just wait here, Chloe. I'd rather not get a bullet in me again. It hurts."

  Reluctantly following Tessie to the bikes, Chloe said absently, "Where'd you get hit?"

  Tessie shrugged. "In the leg."

  But Chloe was still thinking about Nick. What if he got shot? The thought of it was sickening. She weaved her way to his bike, and sat on the seat.

  Another bottle smashed inside, then a man flew out the door and landed with a thud at the bottom of the steps. She saw Nick's large body standing in the doorway then, and she let her breath out in a long sigh. Thank God. He was safe.

  "Knock it off, Bob!" he yelled, starting down the steps. "Chill out!"

  But Bob rose from the ground, in a fighting stance. "You and me," he yelled, "you and me, mother-fucker!"

  By this time, Nick was facing the man, and the rest of the club was on the porch of the place, watching.

  But Bob was larger than Nick. By about four inches and maybe a hundred pounds.

  "I don't want to hurt you, Bob," Nick said, as the two circled each other, and a siren wailed in the distance.

  "Go ahead," Bob said with a leer, "hurt me."

  Like lightening, as Bob swung, Nick's fist connected with the man's jaw, and sent him sprawling into the dirt.

  But Bob got up again, swinging wildly. Nick repeated the quick maneuver, but his time, the man didn't get up.

  Chloe resisted the urge to go to Nick. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to go to him, throw her arms around his neck, press her head against his hard chest. But she knew this was all part of it. Part of the life-style, part of the machismo. So she leaned back against the bike, and waited for him.

  By the time they reached Nick's house, Chloe was feeling the liquor she'd had.

  "Yer gonna have to help me, Nicky," she slurred.

  He groaned, and hoisted her up over his shoulder. "You shouldn't have had that booze," he said disgustedly, "I should have stopped you."

  Carrying her in, he deposited her on the bed. "You going to throw up?" he said gruffly.

  "Nooo," she said, as she stretched, and held her hands up over her head. "Come 'ere, Nicky." She did look sexy lying there, he thought. Very appealing. And also, very drunk.

  "Un-uh. I've never had a drunken women yet, and I'm not going to start now." Although, he did want her. Badly.

  "Awww," she said, "just talk to me for a minute."

  Her eyes were half-closed, and he knew she'd be asleep soon. "All right," he said with a sigh, as he flipped off the overhead light, "just for a minute." He was sure he could muster some kind of self-control for this.

  She snuggled next to him. "You're so hard," she slurred, as her hand raked over his chest.

  More than you know, he thought, as his jeans became uncomfortable again.

  "Nicky."

  "What," he said softly, trying to ignore his urges.

  "Do you think, I mean, one day, do you think we'll make it?" Her voice was growing sleepy now, and he stroked her hair.

  "Maybe," he said softly. He'd be willing to bet on it. Big money, too.

  "I...I haven' been...with anyone...so long." Then, her voice trailed off, and her hand fell off his chest.

  He carefully undressed her, trying to avoid the body areas that had enticed him so badly earlier, and he drew the covers up.

  "Nick," she said sleepily.

  "What?"

  He could see her smiling up at him. "I hope we do." Then, her eyes closed, and she slept.

  Chapter Six

  Chloe was ragged the next day. Her stomach heaved, her head ached, and she felt like death personified. As she opened her eyes reluctantly, squinting at the morning brightness, she also realized she didn't have any clothes on.

  Did they or didn't they, she wondered absently, her brain just barely functioning. Only Nick knew for sure.

  She flung her legs over the side of the bed and sat, thinking death might just be preferable to this, the aching head, the stomach flip-flopping with abandon, the cotton taste in her mouth.

  Nick came in, and she was feeling so bad, she made no attempt to even cover herself. He'd seen her body before. What was the difference?

  "It's about time you got up," he said gruffly, as he quickly averted his eyes.

  "Whatever," she groaned, as she held her head in both hands.

  "You need an Alka-Seltzer?"

  "Yeah." Then, idly, she wondered who'd had the most to drink at the bar, she or Rhonda. Chloe had lost track after five.

  By the time he returned with the fizzing glass, she had donned a t-shirt.

  "I'm dying," she moaned, as she sipped the mixture. "Send my remains to those who need it the most. My corneas are still good. My heart's strong. The kidneys may still be functioning, but I'm not sure."

  Laughing, he replied, "You'll make it, baby. Sleep it off. Listen, I gotta work on that bike." Leaning over her, he said, "You'll be okay?"

  She nodded.

  Kissing her cheek, he said, "See you later."

  But that night, he was in a surly mood. She fixed him hamburgers and fries, and he ate the food silently, his eyes trained on his plate the whole time. He wouldn't look at her, and she didn't know why. Maybe she'd offended him somehow.

  "What's wrong with you?" she said crossly, grabbing his plate when he was done.

  "Nothing," he replied. "I'm going out. I'll be back later." And, he left without a backward glance.

  Dickhead, she thought, as she heard the roar of his bike. After angrily throwing the dirty dishes in the sink, she roamed around the tiny living room, trying to get a feel for him. But, she couldn't. It was like he was there, but not really there. Maybe he was a figment of her warped imagination. Maybe something deep inside her craved a man like Nick. Dark, dangerous, sexual.

  Yes, he was sexual, she thought, as she sat on the couch. Memories flooded over her. The beach, him holding her in bed. The man oozed it, the same as he oozed power. And she wondered if it wasn't all related somehow.

  Then a knock on the door startled her.

  Opening it, she saw Rhonda. "What do you want?" she said irritably, surprised at the visit. Maybe the woman came to gloat over last night. Maybe she'd won their stupid little contest.

  But suddenly, a gun was pointed at her face. "I'm going to kill you," Rhonda said menacingly, as she edged her way in the door. It was a twenty-two with a silencer. And Chloe thought of the damage a bullet from that thing could do while it rattled around inside her own brain. />
  Chloe's heart pounded until it threatened to leap right out of her chest, as she backed up. Why wasn't Nick here? This woman was serious; Chloe could see it in her eyes.

  Searching her mind for ways to dissuade the woman, Chloe said, "Okay, but let's have a drink." She was unable to think of anything else. Besides, Rhonda had the look of a stone alcoholic, and Chloe smelled liquor heavily on her breath.

  "All right," Rhonda said, "but make it fast. I gotta do this, and get out quick."

  Chloe searched Nick's cupboards, with shaking hands, until she found a bottle of whiskey. She poured two large shots, almost gagging at the smell of it, as it reminded her of the night before. And she grew more nervous, as she knew biker women were capable of killing. As capable as their old men.

  Returning to the living room, she handed a glass to Rhonda, and said slowly, "Why do you want to kill me?"

  Rhonda sat, but the gun was still trained on Chloe. "Because he's mine. You can't have him." She took a long drink then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  "Listen," Chloe said, as she sat across from the woman, "you wouldn't want him. You want me to tell you what he's really like?"

  Rhonda glared, and waved the gun.

  "He's a drunk," Chloe said. "He spends his nights out getting drunk, then he comes home and he can't even get it up."

  Rhonda's expression changed, but she was still wary. She stared at Chloe. "You're lying."

  "No I'm not," Chloe said emphatically. "Then, when he does get it up," she snapped her fingers, "it's over like that."

  "Damn!" Rhonda breathed. "No shit?"

  Chloe nodded. "No shit."

  Rhonda lowered the gun. "He's probably not worth it then, huh?" She appeared to be thinking, then said, "I don't want Max to find out about this, either. He'd ice me for sure. Nick's one of his favorites."

  "I'm no squealer," Chloe said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Besides, Nick's nice-looking, but not worth it. You know?"

  The gun dropped to Rhonda's lap. "Yeah. I guess you're right."