by Cathryn Cade
He rubbed the backs of his knuckles over the swell of her breasts above her bra. It was old, and a little too small, so there was a lot of her swelling over the cups. Plus, it was a weird color of green, from the clearance rack at Ross.
But who the hell cared, because he was tracing the outline of Kit’s sole tattoo, just above her bra. A butterfly on the wing, done in pretty, pastel hues and fine curving lines. To her, it symbolized the freedom she wished she had, to just fly away when times were tough. It was the prettiest thing she’d ever owned, and it could never be taken away.
“Bet that butterfly’s wings wouldn’t be any softer than your skin,” he said. He flicked the front catch of her bra with practiced ease, then grunted with satisfaction when the cups parted, spilling her breasts free. “Pink, just like your lips. Pretty as fuck.” This time he cupped them both, lifting and squeezing as he leaned in to kiss her again.
“You like your tits sucked?” he asked, fingering her nipples.
She nodded, unable to form words when pleasure was shooting through her like fireworks from the firm touch of his warm, calloused fingers.
Her nipples were sensitive, and she always got herself off squeezing them by turns while she fingered her pussy.
But she had a feeling she’d like anything he did, even if he wanted to suck on her kneecaps. And she loved the look of his tough, be-ringed hands on her pale flesh, making the whole experience naughtier.
“Good, ‘cause I love doin’ it,” he approved. He backed up, his hands on her hips as he pulled her away from the blazer. “C’mere.”
He perched on the edge of a stool, and pulled her between his open thighs. This placed his head at her shoulder height, and he took full advantage, admiring her breasts with his eyes and his hands before he pulled her close, his big hand on her bare back, and leaned to lick her nipple into his mouth, playing her other breast with his hand.
His mouth was hot and wet and silky and merciless, licking, sucking and twirling her sensitive nub until Kit was arching into him, her hand cupping his head, holding him to her, urging him on. His hair was like warm, damp silk over the hard shape of his skull, and sure enough, his braid was a silky, satisfying heft in her fist.
He groaned as he switched his attention to her other nipple. “Baby, you keep movin’ like that, I’m gonna come in my jeans just watchin’ you.”
Kit froze. Oh, shit, he was right—she was rolling her hips like a stripper. She could feel every suck clear to her pussy, and her clit was throbbing like a drum.
He smiled up at her, a naughty smile that made her shiver with delight. “You need to get off, baby?”
She nodded, even as a flush raced up over her bare chest and face.
“Good.” He trailed one knuckle down over her bare abdomen and tapped the snap on her cutoffs. “Slide these down. Wanna watch while you play with yourself.”
“You do?” She’d be his own personal porn star.
He took her hand in his, and placed it over the snap. “Yeah. You gonna do that for me?” Deftly, he worked her fingers, pressing them in. The snap opened with a tiny click, and her fingers fumbled for the zipper pull and lowered it. The cutoffs were snug, so they parted like a banana peel, revealing her belly and the top edge of her bikini panties, which of course did not match her bra. They were faded pink with purple lace, also clearance from Walmart.
She put her palm over her belly, which was not flat like it should be, but had a slight pouch. If only she could fly back through time two years and begin doing a thousand crunches every morning the moment she woke, to prepare for this moment.
His gaze flicked from her hand to her face. “What’s wrong? You got a scar or something you’re shy about?”
Heat crawled over her cheeks and stained her chest. “No. I’m just ... not exactly a hard body, that’s all.”
He blinked, and then a slow, gorgeous smile creased his lean face. “Baby,” he chided, moving to tug down her cutoffs himself. “You are like a banquet for a starving man, not one of those chintzy little no-calorie frozen meals. And I gotta tell you, from where I’m sittin’, there is nothin’ I see that I don’t wanna touch, lick, and fuck with my tongue, my hands and my cock.”
She may have whimpered aloud just from his words, or maybe it was that he bent his head to her and nuzzled—yes, nuzzled his face against her belly, and pressed little kisses on the slight protrusion of her hipbones. His breath was hot, his lips soft, his trace of beard scraped her skin erotically.
“Just right, don’t wanna be stabbed in the face with bones,” he approved, his hands now on her bare ass as her panties rode down her thighs with her cutoffs. “Oh, Jesus fuck, you got a pretty little red snatch.”
He took her unresisting hand from his shoulder and pressed her fingers to her mons. “Touch it how you like,” he urged, watching her with a hooded gaze of pure absorption.
Kit did, because she couldn’t resist that approving look. She stroked her fingers down into her labia, wet and swollen, and then up over her clit. It felt ... naughty and embarrassing and wonderful.
“Want you to come,” he muttered, reaching down to adjust himself. “You’ll go faster if I help.”
He looked up at her, and cupped her breasts in his hands, plumping them up with her erect nipples framed by his thumb and forefinger.
“Which one you want me to suck first?”
Kit nearly came then. She gave a deep shiver, fiery heat suffusing her from head to toe. She touched his hand over her right breast, and he leaned in and sucked it into his hot, wet mouth, sucking with long, hard pulls that she felt clear to her pussy.
Then it was easy to assuage the sharp near pain of arousal with her own fingers. She drew more of her wetness up over her clit and stroked herself fast, the way she needed to send herself over the edge into clenching, straining, then sweet ease of pleasure. She came hard, her pussy pulsing in time to his suckling.
When she dragged her heavy eyes open, Keys was watching her. “That was sexy as fuck. Thank you.”
She laughed, feeling it clear through her, loose and happy. “Why are you thanking me? I’m the one who got off.”
And she wanted him to get off next. She toed out of her sneakers, shimmied her hips, letting her shorts and panties fall the rest of the way to the floor, and stood before him naked, one hand still on his shoulder. She still felt off-balance on her two feet, as if she needed to hang onto him or just wanted to.
“It’s your turn,” she offered, a little shyly because yeah, she’d been with other guys, but never one with his experience or sheer focus on her.
“All right—likin’ the sound of that.” He pulled his vest back and off and then reached down to grasp the hem of his tee and pulled it up and over his head. Kit stared, entranced. Oh, my ... he just got better looking the more he uncovered. His broad shoulders and arms were heavy with muscle, his chest lean and hard, dusted with dark hair that arrowed down his lean torso to his belly.
And the tangle of silver chains and pendants were not his only decorations. Ink swirled over his right shoulder and down his arm in a complex, shaded design of a Native American Plains chief in full headdress. Fierce and wild, he gazed out at the world. He reminded her of someone—Remi.
“Why did you get this one?” she asked.
“Just love Indian history and shit,” he said. “They rode wild and free on their horses ... me and my brothers do the same on our bikes.”
Kit nodded, then took in the rest of his ink. On the left side of his chest, a key had been inked as if it was opening his chest, with a crack open to reveal his heart.
She reached out to trace the design. “This one’s easy. Keys, that’s you.”
“Yeah. Always loved every kind of vehicle, love solving the puzzle of how to make ‘em run, make them look good again, even better than before. Part of me.”
Kit wanted to spend the next hour or so examining his ink in detail, and tracing the lines with her mouth and fingertips. But they weren’t in a bed where
he could lie back while she did so.
Instead, she put her hand on the buckle of his heavy belt. “Your turn to get off,” she told him.
“Yeah?” He tipped his head. “You ever suck a man off before?”
She nodded. She didn’t know if she was good at it, but then guys didn’t seem real picky when they got to stick their cock in a girl’s mouth. She’d seen more than one biker getting off thus right in the club house bar, or outside in the firelight.
“You okay with doing that for me?” Keys asked, stroking his warm hands up and down her thighs. “Second thing I thought of when I saw your pretty, pink lips—right after kissin’ ‘em.”
Instead of answering with words, Kit put her hands on his thighs and knelt between them, her knees padded by her cutoffs. She’d thought he’d want to fuck her, but she didn’t mind going down on him. He was attractive, he was fresh from a shower, and she loved the naughtiness of what they were doing. She smiled to herself as he leaned back to unfasten his jeans.
“What’s funny?” he asked, grinning at her at he pulled his zipper down.
“I feel like a hooker,” she confessed. “Sucking you off in broad daylight in your place of business.”
His cock sprang free, long, thick and flushed with arousal. He was big—she wasn’t going to be able to get that very far into her mouth. She hoped he didn’t expect her to deep throat him.
He stroked himself, and groaned. “Baby, right now you could just about name your price. You between my legs, naked and lush—I’d pay a whack to get inside that pretty, pink mouth of yours.”
She slid her hands up his thighs and under his to close her fingers on his cock. He was hot, satiny and quivered in her grasp like a revved up bike.
“We could pretend,” she offered. She looked up at him through her lashes. “I hope you can afford me. My boss will get real mad if I come back without my pay.”
“Then you better satisfy me, Red,” he threatened, fisting his hand in her curls and pulling her to his cock. “Take me in that pretty mouth and suck me dry, or you ain’t gettin’ my money. Do real bad things to me with that mouth.”
She nuzzled his cock the way he had her belly, enjoying his musky scent and the satiny texture against her face. “You gotta wear a condom,” she told him. “House rules.”
He held up a cellophane square. “Good rules, Red. Put it on me.”
Kit took the packet, tore it open carefully and placed the rolled up condom on the thick, mushroom head of his cock, then rolled it down. He grunted, his hands working in her hair. “You even do that sexy.”
At this point, Kit was pretty sure she could cross her eyes and scratch her armpits, and he’d consider that hot. But she merely licked her lips and then rose up and put her mouth over the head, and licked him into her mouth.
Part of her mourned the necessity to cover up his satiny skin with a layer of protection, no matter how thin, but one thing Deni had taught her—bikers weren’t real careful about their partners, which meant they could be carrying STIs and not even know it.
So she enjoyed the heft and feel of him in her hand around the base, hot and firm, jerking in her grasp when she sucked harder. And his scent, musky but clean. And the way he yanked his jeans farther down to reveal more of his groin and hips, his skin pale in contrast to the closely trimmed, dark hairs dusting his genitals.
He pulled her free hand to his balls and showed her how he liked to be played. She did so with pleasure, enjoying the soft, taut feel of him in her fingers, as he ran his fingers back into her hair, cupping her head and moved, fucking her mouth in shallow, slow strokes.
“Gonna come fast,” he told her, his voice guttural. “If I was in your tight little pussy I’d work on lasting, but I think we both want this fast.”
In a moment, he stiffened in her grasp, the tip of the condom swelling with his cum.
He groaned quietly and then pulled her gently off of him. He tipped her face up and bent to kiss her, a slow, lazy sweep of lips and tongue. Pulling back, he regarded her face with a smile. “Like the way you look with your lips swollen from taking my cock, Red.”
“I like taking your cock,” she told him, and it was the truth. She felt like she’d given him a gift, one that he fervently appreciated.
He smiled. “You gonna take my cock in your sweet pussy soon?”
Said pussy clenched, needy all over again. “Maybe.”
He chuckled, pushing her hair back as if he enjoyed touching it, touching her. “Maybe. I’ll work on getting that to yes.” He didn’t look too worried. He held out his hand, and Kit grasped it, let him pull her to her feet.
He reached to grab a disposable towel from an open container on one of the toolboxes, and used it to deal with the condom. They dressed in silence.
Kit pushed her hair back with one hand and then stopped, figuring she looked how she looked, so no sense in worrying about it now. And she’d always hated the way her mom was constantly fiddling her hair and preening.
But she was suddenly conscious that he’d gotten what he wanted, and that he was used to that with women more sophisticated, better dressed and with better bodies than hers. And who knew how to carry on post-sex conversation.
She stood, tapping the heels of her hands against her thighs, and looking around her.
“You want a tour?” he asked. He was smiling in a way that said he was feeling good, not rating her on some private scale.
Relieved, she nodded.
He cocked his head toward the back of the shop. “Then c’mon. I’ll show you around.”
Chapter Six
Beyond the silver-and-red Blazer, at the back of the big shop stood a pair of stanchions. One was empty, but the other held a vintage red and gold motorcycle.
“‘59 Indian,” Keys told her proudly. “Ain’t she a beauty?”
He stroked a hand over the leather seat and over the back fender, and slanted a look at Kit. “Gonna need some publicity shots for the website. You’d look good draped over her ... say, in some black leather shorts and one of those little vests like Jack gave Lindi.”
She snorted. “Yeah, if I had an outfit like that, which I don’t.” And she wasn’t sure she’d appear in public in leather shorts anyway. Leather pants might be fun, if they fit. Although she wasn’t sure how comfortable they’d be.
His look intensified, making her pussy clench again as if he was still touching her there. “You let me fuck you on this bike, I’ll treat you to a pretty outfit at the Harley store.”
Kit blinked. Then she shrugged mentally. What the heck, may as well keep playing the game they’d begun earlier. She gave him a look from under her lashes, twirling a long strand of her hair. “I don’t know, I might need some Victoria’s Secret action too.”
“Hell, yeah,” he agreed instantly. “You in some of those skimpy, sexy-as-fuck undies? We’re on.”
Now her face was as hot as the grill at BeeHive. She laughed to show she knew he didn’t mean a word of it. “Whatever you say, biker man.”
He nodded. “Now that’s what I like to hear from you, Red.” He winked at her and moved toward a door in the back wall. There was a vehicle-size garage door there as well, now closed.
A sign on the small window read ‘Danger: Toxic Chemicals. Wear Protective Gear.’ He opened the door, revealing a room big enough for a large vehicle, although the center was empty. A strange machine had hoses snaking out and up to hang from supports that in turn hung from overhead sliding racks.
“This is the painting bay. We prime, sand, then spray the paint on in layers, sanding in between each coat. Also do the design work here.”
She nodded, wrinkling her nose. “Smells weird. Must be really strong when you’re painting.”
“It is. I wear full coverall and ventilated mask. Also have a shower in the bathroom out here, so I don’t have to take any residual stink into the house.”
They left the room. He pointed out the bathroom in the far south-west corner, then walked her to the foot of an
open stairway that led up the outer wall of the painting bay.
“Office is up here. And where I’ve been bunking.”
Kit followed him up the stairs. The room held a metal desk, a rolling office chair, two tall file cabinets and an old safe. Under a window on the south wall of the building lay a large mattress with a sleeping bag thrown over it, a couple of pillows at the head. A pair of open duffels sat atop a stack of packing boxes.
“Little crowded,” he said, “But it’s home for now.”
It looked fine to her. It was clean, if messy, and it was his own place.
A wave of yearning hit Kit with shocking suddenness. What she’d give for a nest like this of her very own, where no one would hassle her or wake her in the middle of the night with loud, drunken fights and more. Even a pillow and blankets over her head couldn’t drown out biker sex.
“It’s nice.” She moved to look out the window. Nothing but trees and clouds, the breeze ruffling the tree tops. Peaceful, and so much prettier than a dirty trailer court.
She guessed she understood why people wanted to live up in the woods, although this was the farthest she’d want to be from town. What if the ice cream and cookies ran out, or the beer? Stores nearby were a necessity, far as she was concerned.
And should she feel guilty for thinking this was also better than Lindi’s apartment? Her best-friend had been completely sweet about Kit camping on her sofa, and so had Jack. They were relaxed together, and fun to hang out with.
Also, Jack was not shy about simply hauling Lindi off to the bedroom or even the bathroom when he got the urge. Kit quickly clued in to turn up the TV or grab Lindi’s iPod with earphones, and listen to some Zac Brown or Imagine Dragons, but she still had to stuff a pillow in her mouth a few times when she heard the sounds emanating through the small apartment. Jack was not quiet, and neither was Lindi.
Gross when it was her mom and a lover, but her best friend and her man? Funny as all hell. She’d thought about recording them for laughs—for about five seconds. She really did not want to piss Lindi off when she was being so nice.