by Tia Siren
Tank smiled softly and looked at her. He seemed to want to say something, but his lips remained touching for a long time. Finally, he shrugged and opened the door, swinging his foot out. She reached out and took him by the arm before he could get away.
“Talk to me,” the young woman said.
Tank looked over at her. “Thanks for the ride,” he said, and she pulled her hand away from his arm and he got out. She waited until he was atop his bike and had roared out of the parking lot without even glancing back at her before she put her car in drive and headed home.
The next few days were strange between the two young lovers. Big Tim was buried, and Vanessa went, although she went with Susan and not Tank. He rode his roaring bike, along with the rest of the Pythons. Seeing all the members of the club in one spot was a bit of an eye-opener for Vanessa. There were well over a hundred of them. The most she had seen at one time in the bar was twenty or so. They rode in a long, slow progression through town, up a winding, dusty, two-lane highway until they got to the cemetery, a green oasis that stood out against the Utah brown and orange. A priest was there, one like Vanessa had never seen before. He wore the collar, had the robe on, but he also had a tattoo on his neck, a spider that crept out past the collar. He said a few words, though Vanessa wasn’t listening. She was looking at Tank.
He didn’t weep, though a few men did openly, which surprised the young woman. She figured these guys would bottle up their emotions, would try to be tough, but they all seemed genuinely devastated. It turned out that Big Tim had a couple of kids, two boys, one fifteen and one in college. Vanessa felt for them. She knew how hard it was to lose a parent. Their mother was there, so she took solace in the fact that they at least had her.
After the burial there was a wake back in town. The Devil Dog was too small to hold everyone, so the back door was thrown open and the wake spilled out into the lot. It wasn’t a wake as much as a party, where the bikers drank and laughed and remembered their dead friend. Vanessa had to work, so she didn’t get a chance to speak with Tank.
The next morning she went to see him. He lived in a trailer just outside town, in a small mobile home park that was at least eighty percent Python. She knocked on his door, and it took him a few moments to answer. When he saw her, he sighed.
“What?” he said.
Vanessa felt defensive. “I’m worried about you,” she said. “Maybe I shouldn’t be?”
“Yeah, you shouldn’t be. I’m a big boy, Vanessa.”
“Fine,” the young woman said, anger boiling up inside her. That anger was quickly replaced by pure rage when she heard another voice, a feminine one, from inside Tank’s trailer.
“What is it, Tank? Come to bed.”
The woman who had spoken came into view. She was wearing nothing but a pair of panties, her big breasts fake and covered in dried cum from the night before. She was blond and wore too much makeup, and her lipstick was smeared.
“What the fuck, Tank?” Vanessa said, and then, without a warning to him, and without being able to stop herself, she hauled back and hit him. She always thought if she ever struck a man it would be a slap. Maybe it was the influence Tank had had on her the last few months, but she didn’t slap Tank. She hit him. Punched him. With her fist. She curled her fingers inward and drove her fist forward, right into his nose.
The blond bimbo screamed and rushed forward, and this time Vanessa had time to think. Why the hell not? is what flashed through her mind as she punched the bimbo too. She left them then, Tank silently standing there wide eyed with blood pouring from a broken nose, the girl crying on the floor with an angry welt already growing on her eye.
4
Tank didn’t even try to call that day, and that hurt Vanessa. She sat at home and cried and called off work that evening. The next morning, or at least morning for Tank—it was just after noon—he called.
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Vanessa said when she answered, recognizing his number on her cell screen.
“Then why did you answer?” he asked.
The young woman sighed. “What do you want?”
“Look, Big Tim…it fucked me up, all right? I was close with him. He took me under his wing when I first joined up.”
Vanessa snorted in derision. “So you fucked some slut because your fake dad died? Grow up, asshole.” And then, before he could respond, she hung up.
She worked that night, and she expected him to come in, but he didn’t. For the next week he seemed to stay away from the place, and that suited Vanessa just fine. Her anger began to fade, and she was fairly certain she didn’t need or want him in her life.
That changed on one of her off days. Her period was over a week late. She hadn’t thought about it until the day before, but since it dawned on her, it was all Vanessa could think about. She went to the local drugstore and bought a pregnancy test. When she got home, she didn’t take it right away. It sat on her kitchen counter, and she ignored it. She ate lunch; she watched TV; she worked on a book she was trying to write.
Finally, as the sky grew dark outside her windows, she couldn’t ignore it any longer. She took the box into her bathroom. Inside was a white plastic stick, and she sat on the toilet and held it between her legs. Afterward she sat it on the edge of the bathroom sink and waited. Slowly, two blue lines formed. She was pregnant.
Vanessa immediately ran out to the drugstore and bought three more tests. She took them all, one after the other. All three told her she was pregnant. She sat on her toilet and cried. She was off the next day too, and she didn’t leave her apartment. She considered calling off the next night, but she went in. She pulled Susan aside when she got there and told her everything—about Tank, about the baby. The older woman hugged her.
“It will be okay,” Susan said. “These things have a way of working out. Are you going to tell Tank?”
Vanessa sighed. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I haven’t seen him or talked to him. I might not have to decide just yet.”
Of course, things did have a way of working out, and Tank came walking through the door that night. He looked over at Vanessa, but he thought better of approaching her. He sat at a table while Dipstick, who he had come in with, went to grab them a bucket of beers.
Vanessa tried to keep herself busy so she wouldn’t have to think about the baby and the fact that she was pretty sure she hated Tank now, even if he was the father, and for most of the night she managed pretty well.
Her luck ran out, however, shortly after two in the morning. The bar was mostly dead, and she was crouched behind the bar, counting bottles of liquor. When she straightened up, she found she was face to face with Tank, who was sitting on one of the rickety barstools.
“Talk to me,” he said. He was almost pleading; his eyes looked softer than she had ever seen them.
“I think I need to,” she said with a sigh, setting the pad of paper she was using to take inventory on the bar top. She took a deep breath, and then it all came spilling out. “I’m pregnant.”
Tank’s eyes widened. “Is it mine?” he asked.
Anger flared within Vanessa. “Yes, it’s yours. I’m not a cheating asshole, remember?”
Tank sighed. “I was just asking. I mean, I don’t know what you do all the time. So what? You want money?”
Vanessa was furious. This conversation wasn’t going anywhere near how she had hoped. She snapped at the man who had so recently been her boyfriend.
“I don’t want anything from you,” she said, and then she turned her back on him.
Once again he gave her space, not coming to the Devil Dog. Susan became someone to lean on, and as the days turned to weeks and then months, she was the one who went with her to her doctor appointments, the one who was with her when she found out she was having a boy. By then Vanessa had a bit of a stomach, and her emotions changed as often as the breeze. As Susan drove her back home, she cried, fat, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. The older woman hugged her and then drove off, and Vanessa went in.
>
A buzz at her door woke her from an afternoon nap—someone down on the street wanting to come up. There were only two apartments up the stairs, hers over the hardware store and one across the hall that sat over a diner. An old man lived there, and sometimes he forgot his key, so that was who Vanessa assumed it was. She went to the small panel beside her door and pressed the button. Down the hall and the stairs, the door buzzed, and she heard someone pull it open. She was in the kitchen, filling a glass with water at the sink, when she heard a knock on her door. She opened it and found herself face to face with Tank.
“I can be a better man,” he said to her.
“I don’t need you to be anything,” she snapped.
“I want to be something. I want to be a father.”
“You think I’ll take you back?” Vanessa asked.
“No. I don’t need to be with you to be a father. I want to be a father. I love that baby. And I love you too; I realized that, but that’s not why I’m here. My dad…he left. I might have turned out differently if he had stayed, not been arrested five times, not spent a year of my life in jail when I was nineteen. Things could have been different. I love my club, and I love my bike, but I love this kid more. Girl or boy, I don’t know, but I want to be a dad.”
“It’s a boy,” Vanessa said softly.
Tank clapped his hands together and smiled. “Are you kidding?”
“No.”
“I have to go shopping. Do you want to go?”
Vanessa smiled, but she shook her head after a moment. “I don’t think so.”
“Okay. I’ll see you later, though, all right? Things are going to be different, all right?”
Vanessa nodded, smiling despite herself. His obvious joy at having a boy was almost infectious. She shut the door as he turned to leave.
Tank showed up again that night, carrying in bags of toys.
“I got him a baseball glove, and a bat,” Tank said as Vanessa watched him dump everything out on her couch.
“He’s going to need diapers before he needs a baseball bat,” she said, not unkindly.
“I know, I know,” Tank said. “Let me have baseball, though, all right?”
“Okay. How did you get all that stuff here on your bike?”
“I didn’t ride the bike; I borrowed Dipstick’s jeep.”
Vanessa gasped, half-jokingly, half seriously. “You didn’t ride your bike?”
“I told you, I can change,” Tank said, and they laughed.
The next few weeks were wonderful. Tank took an active role in the baby’s life, such as it was while it was still in her stomach.
One day he was sitting in her apartment, on the couch, while she was modelling the latest in maternity wear.
“I hate my belly,” she said, frowning. She wore a breezy blouse of sorts in a soft pastel floral pattern. Tank leaned forward. As different as he had been lately, he was still Tank. It was what she called him, and it was probably what she would always call him. The young man looked her in the eye and held a hand out. She stepped to him and let him take her hand.
“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And I have to say, pregnant, you’re even hotter. You give me some…well, I’m just saying you look amazing.”
Vanessa smiled. “Thank you for saying that,” she said. Tank nodded and then stood up. He was inches from her, still holding her hand.
“I want to kiss you right now,” he said. Before he never would have asked; he would have just done it. Vanessa opened her mouth to tell him that wasn’t a good idea, but instead she said something that surprised her.
“Do it then.”
He did. She closed her eyes and their lips met. She parted hers to his tongue, and their tongues danced together. He pulled her close, mindful not to push against her stomach. His fingers went down, finding the hem of her shirt and tugging it up. She didn’t stop him. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and when the shirt was off and on the floor, he broke the kiss and found one of her nipples with his mouth, which he sucked softly upon. It grew hard against his tongue, and Vanessa felt herself yearning for the man.
“Bedroom,” she groaned, and he took her hand once more and pulled her forward. They kissed once more while his hands cupped her breasts softly. She pulled his shirt off, dragged her nails softly down his chest. She pushed him onto the bed and then pulled his pants off. He was nude, his cock hard and jutting up from his body. She crawled over him after pulling her own pants off and dropping her panties to the floor as well, stepping out of them as she got onto the bed.
She teased him, running her tongue in slow circles around the head of his cock, before finally taking him into her mouth. He groaned and fought the urge to thrust his hips up. He let her stay in control, and she was moving slowly, driving him wild.
When she pulled back, his cock shone in the dim light, the closed blinds stopping most of it from streaming in through the single bedroom window. Vanessa moved up along Tank’s body, planting kisses as she did so. She kissed just above his unruly bush of pubic hair, up his stomach. Her breasts brushed over his hard cock. She kissed his chest, his throat, his chin. Finally, she pressed her lips to his. She reached down, taking his throbbing member in her hand, and began to jerk him off slowly. Up. Down.
“I need you,” he groaned, and she smiled. She gave him what he wanted. She rode him, his cock sliding into her tight, wet pussy. His hands were at her breasts, pawing softly. She put her hands on his chest as she leaned over. He placed his strong hands on her shoulders, pushing her back. He touched her stomach as she rode, rocking her hips slowly.
She was coming; it didn’t take her long. She hadn’t been with anyone in the months since she and Tank had broken up. She’d had too much on her mind. It had just been her at night, with her fingers, her vibrator. Now he was there, the man she loved. The man who had won her back with his enthusiasm for being a father.
Her pussy tightened around his cock as the orgasm rocked her to her core. Warm juices flowed out of her, running down the side of his dick. She didn’t stop rocking her hips, their pelvises meeting with soft slaps. She quickened the pace, and he reached up and pawed at one breast while his other hand found her hair. He pulled on it softly, causing her to groan and smile.
“Fuck,” Tank said as he grabbed her hips and pulled her down onto his cock. His member jumped inside her as he came. He filled her with his hot semen.
Afterward they lay together, naked and sweaty and panting.
“I want you,” Vanessa said. “I want you to be mine, and the baby’s.”
“I want that too.”
“What should we name him?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” the young man said. “Tank Jr.”
Vanessa laughed and slapped his chest playfully. Then she lay her head on that same spot, and together they drifted off to sleep, napping in the late afternoon.
*****
THE END
Bad Boy Biker Stepbrother
1.
“Yes, I’m incredibly frustrated, Joyce,” I shouted into the phone. She had the patience of a saint to let me fume over the phone for the hundredth time about the same thing.
“It’s going to be okay, Hellen. It’s just a wedding. If it makes your mom happy you should just go with it,” she replied reassuringly.
I sighed and sank into my chair a little farther. The airport was empty, for the most part, which gave me plenty of room to sprawl out.
“Why is it that my mom can find three guys who will marry her, and I can’t even find one?” I asked.
“You’ll find someone; I just know you will. Just be patient and let it happen. That’s how it worked for me and Bill. I just stopped looking and he happened to show up.”
“I haven’t even started looking, and now you’re telling me I should stop?” I asked.
“Just keep doing what you’re doing and the right guy is bound to show up when you least expect it,” she said. I knew her words weren’t meant to stress me out, or make me more frustrated,
but it wasn’t something I could just set aside.
“I thought he already had,” I said.
“Not every guy is going to be like Mark, Hel,” she replied coldly.
I’d really thought that I had met a wonderful person when I started dating Mark. He was gorgeous and knew how to please me in more ways than one. I had even thought he was going to ask to move in together soon, but when I surprised him at his apartment, I knew it wouldn’t work out. Or at least, that was how I felt after I saw him in bed with another woman.
“I think I’m just done trying altogether. I need a man break. I think I’m just going to get drunk, tell my mom congratulations, and forget life for a while,” I said.
“Promise me one thing, Hel,” she said.
“Okay, fine. What?” I sighed.
“Promise me you’ll keep an open mind. You never know what’s out there unless you give it a chance.”
“I make no promises, but I’ll try,” I said.
“I gotta go. The kids are waking up. Have fun, Hellen, for both of us!”
“I’m glad I have your permission. I’ll drink twice as much,” I said with a laugh, ending the call.
A chime rang over the intercom; my flight was beginning to board. I exhaled deeply, trying to push out all my frustrations and anxiety. I could feel myself edging closer to some semblance of normality, but that all came crashing down the moment I picked up my luggage and headed toward the gate.
2.
“Hellen!” reverberated my mother’s familiar screech from the crowd. She was a woman blessed with a lack of embarrassment. I did my best to keep up with her.
“Mom,” I said back, with an awkward look over the gathered crowd that was now paying almost exclusive attention to us.
“You look gorgeous as always. How was the flight?” she asked off-handedly.
“Do you really care about the flight? That seems like needless small talk,” I replied with a cocked eye.
“Well, can’t blame a girl for trying,” she said with a shrug.
I sat my things on a nearby bench and looked her square in the eye.