Big Bad Alpha: A Billionaire Romance

by Tia Siren

  “Let’s grab a beer first.”

  Rebecca frowned. “Jason is in there.”

  “I’m not afraid of him.”

  “Come on, do you need to be macho right now?”

  “It’s just one beer,” Hull argued.

  “Fine,” Rebecca relented. “One beer, and then come home with me.”

  “Deal.” Hull grinned. They went inside. They were at the bar for only a moment before Jason was there, tapping Hull on the shoulder. Hull rolled his eyes and spun around on his barstool. “What?” he asked, not bothering to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

  “You aren’t welcome here,” Jason said.

  “It’s a free country, right?”

  “This is a Hammer bar.”

  “I was a Hammer. My father was the whole damn thing.”

  “He’s dead. Now I’m the whole damn thing,” Jason snapped.

  “Let’s have a vote. I know you have your cronies, but some people remember what the club used to be, how great it was,” Hull said.

  “It’s still great,” Jason said. “Greater than ever.”

  “Then let’s take a vote, see how many people agree with you.”

  “We don’t vote; this isn’t seventh grade. You know how we do it here.”

  Rebecca put her hand on Jason’s chest and shoved him back. “Get out of her with that macho shit,” she said.

  “No one is talking to you, bitch,” Jason said. Hull was up in an instant, right in Jason’s face.

  “What did you say to her?”

  “You heard me. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. Let’s settle our shit first. Fight. Tomorrow at midnight, out at the old Harris plant.”

  “All right,” Hull said. “Winner gets the club?”

  “Scout’s honor,” Jason said with a grin, holding three fingers up.

  “You wouldn’t know honor if it fucked you in the ass,” Hull said. “But I know the others heard everything, so they’ll hold you to it. See you tomorrow night.”

  Rebecca wasn’t sure it was going to be that easy to get rid of Jason, but he just nodded and headed back to his table. It was true what Hull had said. While the two men had been talking, the whole bar had been deathly quiet. There wasn’t a Hammer in the place who hadn’t heard about the fight tomorrow, and the stakes.

  When they got back to Rebecca’s that night, she turned on the man who had so recently come back into her life. “Can you please grow up? A fight? Are you in sixth grade?”

  Hull laughed. “He started it.”

  “I can’t deal with you men,” Rebecca said. Hull stepped forward and took her hands. She tried to pull them away, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled her closer.

  “Come to bed,” he said. “Please?”

  “I don’t want to. I’m not tired,” Rebecca snapped.

  “Good. Neither I am. I want to make love to you.”

  Rebecca shook her head, but she couldn’t hide the small smile that spread across her face.

  “I need to take a shower,” she said, and she turned and headed into her bathroom. She wasn’t sure if he was following her, but she still felt some annoyance from Hull’s pissing contest with Jason, so she swung the door shut behind her.

  Within minutes she was in the shower, standing under the hot water, steam rising off her body. She heard the bathroom door open as she was pulling a sudsy bath pouf across her breasts, and she couldn’t help but smirk. A moment later the shower curtain was pulled back and Hull was there, standing nude in her bathroom, his eyes on her soapy body.

  He was hard, his cock pulsing in the steamy air.

  “I’m pretty dirty too,” he said with a sly grin.

  “I think we’ll just get dirtier if you come in here,” the young woman said.

  “Let’s find out,” Hull said, and he stepped into the shower. He was behind her, and she went to turn around, but he stopped her. He pressed his body against hers from behind, his hard cock shoved against her ass cheeks. His arms went around her, one hand squeezing one of her breasts, the other taking her shower pouf from her and using it to wash her flat stomach.

  “Don’t get me clean before you make me dirty,” Rebecca said, and Hull laughed and dropped the pouf to the floor of the shower. The young woman ground her hips behind her, pressing against his throbbing cock. Then she turned around, keeping herself in his arms, and they kissed, the hot water flowing down their entwined bodies.

  They kissed until Hull couldn’t take it any longer. Then he turned her back around and guided her into a bent position. Rebecca used her hands to brace herself on the silver faucet on the shower wall, and Hull used two fingers to spread her pussy lips, wet from the shower and her own juices.

  He slid into her slowly, easily, his hands exploring her back and her ass as his hips went forward, his cock sliding farther into her. Rebecca gasped as he pushed in as deep as he could go. As he rocked back and forth, building to a quicker pace, the young biker chick used one hand to reach between her legs, her fingers taking turns rubbing her own clit and then reaching back farther and stroking Hull’s cock as he pulled out of her.

  He had said he wanted to make love to her earlier, but in the shower it was just fucking. The hot water was almost oppressive, hitting her lower back, running down her body, some of it heading toward her head, soaking her hair, running into her face.

  Hull fucked her hard, his fingers gripping painfully onto her hips. She continued rubbing herself, rocking back and forth with his thrusts, the rhythmic slapping of their wet skin against each other guiding how quickly she moved her own fingers.

  Soon Rebecca was coming, and her wet pussy was flooded, her juices running down her inner legs to mix with the water at her feet. She groaned and moaned as her pussy contracted around his cock, and he pulled a hand back and brought it down roughly on her ass, spanking her with a wet slap.

  She was feeling lightheaded bent down the way she was, so Rebecca was glad when Hull slid out of her and began to position her differently. She let the man guide her to how he wanted her, and she ended up kneeling in front of him, the hot water slapping against the back of her head as she parted her lips for his massive cock and took him into her mouth.

  She went to move her head forward, but he put his strong hands on either side of her head, holding her still. Instead, Hull moved his hips, the same way he had when he was fucking her pussy, only now he was fucking her mouth, roughly, without concern for her. Hull was using her, and Rebecca wanted him to. It was different than when Jason had used her for sex. There was something that had been missing then, a tone of desire. She knew Hull loved her, and even though the sex was rough, it made it better.

  Hull didn’t last long, fucking her hot, wet mouth. He pulled from between her lips suddenly, and without needing to be told, Rebecca reached up, wrapped her thin fingers around his massive member, and gave him a few pumps as he came, throwing hot sticky strands of cum across her face. One landed beside her nose, running into the corner of her eye; two more went directly across her lips.

  “At least it’ll be easy to clean up,” Hull cracked, and they laughed together under the hot water.

  5

  After the shower, they made love, slow and sensual and long into the night. The next day they didn’t get out of bed until after noon, fucking one more time in the morning, leaving Rebecca’s pussy full of Hull’s hot spunk.

  As the day wore on, they got up and showered, separately this time so they could actually get clean. They ate and laughed and watched TV together. Night fell, and Rebecca turned to the man she had once loved, and now loved again.

  “Don’t go tonight. I can leave the club. We can forget about it.”

  “My father made that club what it is,” Hull said. “It’s my club.”

  “Jason is big…”

  “I’m big too. You don’t think I can take him?”

  “I know you can, but he’s an asshole. He doesn’t play fair.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Hull said. “I’ll g
o kick his ass, he’ll slink off to lick his wounds, and I’ll do what my father would have wanted me to do. You worry too much.”

  Rebecca sighed. “I worry for the both of us since you don’t worry at all.”

  Hull laughed and kissed her. “Some things never change,” he said. And then, right there on the couch, they made love again.

  The Harris plant was an old factory on the outskirts of Oklahoma City that had long been closed down. It was on a dusty and desolate road, and the cops never went out that way. It was the perfect place for a brawl.

  Hull and Rebecca both rode their bikes, side by side, down the empty highway. They pulled into the plant’s lot. Once it had been paved, but now it was broken and mostly gravel. The plant itself stood behind the lot, a giant long dead, the windows shattered and the gray paint peeling.

  Jason was there already, along with what looked like all of the Hammers. Hull parked and Rebecca parked next to him, both throwing the kickstands of their bikes down and climbing off them. Hull was wearing blue jeans and a black T-shirt, and Jason was decked out in full Hammer’s gear: chaps and a black leather vest with their sigil on the back.

  “Let’s just go,” Rebecca said, keeping her voice low. Hull shook his head, turned to her, and kissed her.

  “I love you,” he said.

  “I love you too,” she replied, and then he turned and made his way into the center of the circle that was forming. Jason stood in the center, the circle made up of the club. Rebecca made her way to the front and stood next to Gloria.

  “Rules?” Jason asked after Hull was standing in front of him.

  “You tell me,” Hull replied.

  “No weapons. Punches, kicks. Fight like men.”

  “Do you know how a man fights?” Hull asked, and a soft titer rose in the crowd.

  “Are you ready to get your ass kicked?” Jason asked, putting his fists up.

  “Let’s go,” Hull said, and he stepped forward. The fight was on.

  Hull landed the first hit, and then the second, both powerful punches to Jason’s body. Jason could scrap, but Hull had learned how to box while he was a Navy SEAL. Jason was worried about his face and left his body wide open. Even after only two hits, he would have a massive purple bruise on his ribcage the next day.

  Still, Jason wasn’t a slouch. He had no finesse, but he was powerful, and he landed a skull-rattling punch to Hull’s jaw that sent the man backpedaling and kicking up dust from the gravel.

  “Let’s go, bitch,” Jason said, and he stepped forward, swinging at Hull’s head again, but Hull ducked under the punch and brought his own fist up, slamming it into Jason’s jaw and sending the man sprawling. He tried to get up, but Hull was upon him, pinning him down and slamming his fists into his head, his neck, and his chest. It hadn’t been much of a fight.

  When Hull was sure Jason was done, and he could tell just by looking at him—the man’s face was a sea of red and purple and blue, his eyes already blackened, blood pouring from a broken nose and a mouth now missing a few teeth—he got up. “I win,” Hull said, and about three-quarters of the crowd began to cheer.

  Rebecca had been tense, worried, but now it all fell from her, and she smiled and began making her way toward Hull. He grinned when he saw her and opened his arms to her. He didn’t see Jason standing up behind him, rushing forward as he pulled something from his pocket. Others saw it, and they hurried to stop him, but they weren’t fast enough. Jason held a switchblade, and the blade flashed out from the handle with a glint of silver and an audible clack. And then the blade was buried in Hull’s back, just before the first of the bikers reached Jason and wrenched him away, throwing him to the ground.

  “No!” Rebecca yelled out as Hull fell to the gravel. She dropped beside him, pulling his head up into her lap. She had no way of knowing at that point, but a doctor would later tell her that the blade had pierced both his kidney and his lung. It had been placed in the worst spot it could, and Hull had no hope.

  He was looking up at her now with glassy eyes.

  “He’s a fucking cheater,” Hull said, and he tried to smile but he couldn’t. Perhaps he knew there was nothing to smile about, that there was nothing anyone could do to keep him alive.

  “You’re fine,” Rebecca said, hoping against hope. Not far away a couple of massive bikers were holding Jason down, kicking the shit out of him. She thought they might kill him, pissed off about his cowardice, and she found herself hoping they would.

  “I love you,” Hull said, his voice shaky and sounding as if he were far away.

  “I love you too. Be quiet. Someone will call an ambulance.

  Hull opened his mouth as if to say something else, but he never did. His eyes darkened, his last breath came out in a ragged sigh, and then he was gone, his blood pooling around him and the woman he loved.

  Rebecca cried, that night, the next, and for a hundred after it. The men did end up beating Jason to death, and then the Hammers disposed of both bodies themselves, to keep the police from being involved. Jason and Hull just became two men missing, never to be found. Weasel became the president of the club, and he visited with Rebecca, making sure she would stay on as club mechanic. She told him she would. She had nothing in her life other than the Hammers now. The club had taken everything from her, until it was the only thing left standing. She rode her bike, she fixed the club’s bikes, and motorcycles became her life once more. It was the only thing she could do to keep her mind off everything. As long as she lived, she would never be able to mend herself. But a motorcycle was loud enough to drown everything out, even a broken heart.

  *****

  THE END

  Bad Boy Biker’s Bride

  Five years was a long time to be away. It would have been longer if my mother hadn’t up and gotten sick. She was an old bat, crazy as they came, and to me, she always seemed invincible when I was younger. I guessed I had been wrong.

  I’d hated her while I was growing up. We never saw eye to eye. She was devout and resolute in her beliefs. I was always the carefree spirit, ready to hit the road when the whim took me. She probably hated that about me, kept wanting me to settle down and start a family. She should have known that just wasn’t who I was.

  When the taxi dropped me off in front of the old house, I wanted nothing more than to set the place on fire and leave, as I almost had when I was younger. Too many memories had been made in this house, and most of them I wished I could forget.

  The house looked as it always had, rundown but taken care of. The paint was faded and cracking, and the windows were so grimy they couldn’t be seen through. The small white picket fence was still there, almost entirely knocked over now.

  I wondered what my dad would have thought of it after all these years. I always thought of his grizzled face staring down at me from whatever cloud he was sitting on, judging as he always had. I had received messages from him the entire time I was away, but they stopped after he caught a bullet. I guessed if you lived as loud as he did, you’d end up in a grave sooner rather than later.

  “Hey, Momma,” I shouted from the front door.

  “Tara, is that you?” she replied from the den.

  I clomped around the house in my old motorcycle boots till I found her.

  “Yeah, it’s me, Momma. How you feelin’?” I asked.

  “How the hell do you think I’m feeling? I can barely get up to take a piss. Get over here and give your momma a hug,” she said.

  I had learned at an early age that you didn’t say no when your mother asked you to do something. I leaned over her and gave her a solid embrace.

  “Can I get you anything?” I asked.

  “You can get me the last twenty years of my life back; that would do it.” She laughed, only to start hacking and coughing.

  I patted her back in a vain attempt to help her. I looked through her prescriptions, one of which was empty—looked like painkillers.

  “How about you just get me a refill on that before my aches start acting
up again? I was just going to watch TV anyway.”

  “All right, Momma. I’ll be back.”

  “I think your old bike is still in the garage, if you want to use that to get around. I haven’t had a car for a couple of years now.”

  “I’m glad you never got rid of it,” I said.

  “Some things you can’t get rid of,” she replied.

  I gave her a kiss on the forehead and took the pill bottle, tucking it into my pocket.

  I went back outside and circled around to the old garage. My dad’s old car was still sat there, waiting for someone to care. I eyed my old motorcycle, peeking out from behind the canvas sheet I’d thrown over it years ago.

  My hand moved automatically, tugging the sheet away. She was a killer ride, and I wondered how I’d gone so long without her in my life. The day to day just didn’t have the same feel as it had when I was younger and more irresponsible.

  I ran my hand along the gas tank, wiping away the layers of dirt she was covered in. She wasn’t the biggest bike, nor was she the fastest, but she was mine, and that was all that mattered.

  I threw my leg over, and a cloud of dust met me as I settled into the seat. I jerked down on the starter, and just as she always had, she turned over on the first crank.

  I hadn’t ridden in so many years; I started to get antsy. She wanted to be taken out to flex those old muscles. I walked my way out of the garage, carefully avoiding the old car.

  I started feeling that sense of freedom I’d had all those years ago: the freedom I’d had when I snuck out late at night to meet up with my old boyfriend, the nights when I’d make a mistake and come home in handcuffs, even the nights when I wouldn’t come home at all—the memories were all flooding back.

  I steered myself away from my old home and joined up with the road. There was a canyon road that had some of the finest sights in the area, and I felt it was the perfect time to see them; Momma could wait a few more minutes.

  When I was free from the town I let loose, my hair whipping in the wind and the sun warming my face. I opened the bike up and leaned into the corners; I had all these roads memorized and could ride them blindfolded.