Riot: A Hell's Heathens MC Christmas Story (Older Man, Younger Woman MC Romance)

by Raven Dark

  I can’t believe he wants me. I can’t believe I’m here, on this bike, with the engine vibrating between my legs and his leather cut against my cheek. I hold him tighter, and I feel him rumble in what I hope is approval.

  By the time Riot stops the bike, my cheek is numb from the cold, but until I sit up, I hardly notice. When I swing off, I get my first look at where he’s taken me.

  He’s stopped the bike in a small parking lot out front of a quaint little motel on the outskirts of Holden. It’s a two-story stone building with a sign reading Evergreen Motel in neon in a front window. Under that, the sign glows, Vacancy.

  I take off my helmet and wait for him to dismount. He does, and then wraps his hand around mine. The warmth of it chases away the chill.

  “It’s not the best place in the world, but it’s the best we can do without going a lot further out.”

  I squeeze his hand and rub the back of it, touched by the regret in his eyes. “This is perfect. Fancy rooms aren’t my style.”

  “Me neither.”

  “As long as I’m with you, I don’t care where we stay, Riot.”

  He lifts my hand, dropping a kiss on it. Then he drapes his arm over my shoulder and steers me across the parking lot to the door of the motel. Inside, the woman behind the desk makes eyes at him and her cheeks go very red.

  Riot’s taken his arm from around me, I realize.

  “Would you and your daughter like two rooms, then?” she asks.

  A flush heats my skin from my neck to my hairline. I look up at him, mortified. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that people would think that when they saw us.

  Riot grins and pulls me close, totally at ease. “Nope. Just one.”

  The woman looks equal parts disappointed and embarrassed as she hands him the room key.

  Riot pockets the key, then slips his arm around my waist and pulls me into his side on the way to the room.

  “Sorry,” I mutter, cheeks still hot when we reach the room.

  “Hmm?” He unlocks the door and waits for me to go in first.

  I step in and he follows, locking the door behind him.

  “I’m sorry. That must have been humiliating for you.” I drop my shoulders, feeling suddenly unsure what to do with myself. Awareness of his much greater experience looms. I’ve never felt anything like this before—this feeling of being out of my element.

  Buying time and giving myself something to focus on, I slip off my winter coat. Riot takes it from me and hangs it on a hook on the back of the door. Then he takes my hands in his and walks backward toward the bed that dominates the room, tugging me with him.

  “Do I look like I give a shit what anyone thinks, Red?”

  I bite my bottom lip and shake my head, loving how comfortable he is in his own skin.

  Riot lets go of my hands and sits on the bed, pulling off his leather boots and socks.

  “Come here.” He grabs my wrist and tugs me to him until I’m standing between his knees.

  I’m not sure if it’s the woman at the counter’s comment or the fact that we’re now in a room he’s clearly rented for one purpose, but a feeling of naïve inexperience suddenly rides me hard. I lick my lips, lost for what to do or say. Nothing seems appropriate. Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me? It’s not like I haven’t done this before, and I’ve never been shy with a guy. It must be him. He’s doing this to me somehow.

  Riot’s lips twitch. He pushes his hand through my hair. “Nervous, sweet thing?”

  Despite the hint of amusement in his voice, there’s warmth in it that quiets some of the butterflies in my belly.

  Not wanting to admit his affect on me, I shrug.

  Riot settles his hands on my hips. They’re huge. Those long fingers of his slip under my denim jacket and shirt, his palms massaging my sides and making me shiver with delight. I’m not used to feeling this vulnerable. I don’t know if I like it or not.

  “Words, Red. What’s going on in that gorgeous head, hmm?”

  “No, really, I’m good.”

  One hand glides up the middle of my back until his fingers knead the back of my neck. “Don’t do that. You don’t have to be the tough girl with me. It’s just us. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  Oh, God. The way he’s looking at me makes me feel as if he can see right into my soul. I’ve never been one to open up to anyone easily. I’m not sure I know how.

  I look at the ceiling. “Riot, this is crazy. It’s like I don’t know how to react with you.”

  His brow furrows. “Have you never been with a man before?”

  “No…I have. I mean with you. You kind of throw me off my game.”

  Triumph alights in his eyes. “Good. I like that I can keep you on your toes.” He slips my jacket off my shoulders and tosses it aside before lifting my shirt and kissing his way along the center of my rib cage. His hot breath fans my skin. My knees go weak.

  “Stop thinking, Red. Let me do all the work.” His lips work their way upward, toward my breasts, pushing my shirt further up as he goes. His mouth leaves a trail of fire everywhere it touches. “Off,” he orders between kisses, tugging on the shirt.

  “So bossy. Florida.” Eager for more of his touch, I tug my shirt off and toss it aside.

  “You know it.” His fingers easily work the clasp on my bra loose. It bothers me how easily he undoes it when men struggling with a woman’s bra is practically a cosmic law. Thinking of him with another woman—with lots of other women—causes a stab of jealousy to prick at me.

  “Lots of practice there, Riot?” I tease.

  Slipping the garment off, his eyes meet mine. The wicked look in them sends my pulse rate through the roof.

  Without warning, he stands, lifts me up, and tosses me on the bed. I whoop in surprise, and the next instant, I’m sprawled on my back, and he’s kneeling on the bed between my legs. Bent over me, his hands push my arms above my head, pinning my wrists to the mattress.

  “If you’re expecting a saint, sweetness, I’m not your man.” He bends his head, kissing his way along my neck and down between my breasts. “You deserve a man who knows how to make you feel good.”

  The hungry sound of his voice makes me instantly wet and I squirm in pleasure. Well, he’s certainly delivering on that. He captures one of my nipples in his mouth, licking and sucking until I arch my back for him and moan.

  Riot does the same with the other nipple. My eyes close, my head rolling back. He’s driving me insane.

  “Riot…” I tug on his hands, desperate to touch him, to bring that wicked mouth of his closer.

  His grip tightens on my wrists, trapping them against the mattress.

  “Slow down,” he growls. The five o’clock shadow on his jaw and chin scrapes my skin as he sucks on the side of my neck.

  “Let go of my hands, Florida.”

  His head snaps up and his eyes lock onto mine. His hands squeeze my wrists until they almost hurt, as if to let me know who’s in control. The pain goes right between my legs, licking at my clit.

  “I don’t take orders from my woman, Red. I give them.”

  “Oh God.” The pure command in those words makes my whole body hum with the need for his control. I swear, if it got out that I—tough, take no shit Red—liked being ordered around in the bedroom, no one would ever let me live it down.

  He releases my wrists and tugs my head back, putting his mouth to my ear.

  “Here’s how things will go, sweet thing. From now until I’m through fucking you, you’ll do exactly as I say. You’re not going to touch me without permission. You will not speak without permission, and when you do respond, your only answer will be ‘Yes, Riot.’ Understand?”

  Holy shit, this is so hot. I grin from ear to ear.

  “Answer me. Tell me you understand.”

  Once more, I lick my lips. Why are the words so hard for me? I feel like I’m giving up something I don’t know how to give.

  “Yes, Riot, I understand,” I rasp.

  “G
ood girl.” He bites my ear and I let out a mewling sound.

  Then he sits up. I reach for him, meaning to help him out of those clothes.

  “What did I say?” he rumbles.

  I go lax on the bed, willing myself to be compliant. It’s a strange and terrifying and exciting feeling.

  A hum vibrates from him, rich with approval. It’s one of the most erotic sounds I’ve ever heard. “Better.”

  He makes quick work of my pants, undoing them and jerking them to my knees along with my panties. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Look at you.”

  His eyes take in my wild curls that spread over the mattress, raking over the swell of my breasts, my nipples, still peaked from his sucking. That gaze fixates on my pussy, eating it up.

  Unaccustomed to such praise, my cheeks heat. I try to see myself the way he sees me right now. I’ve always hated my hair, and most men see me as either the loose slut sister of the MC Prez, or the bratty best friend. Devil’s relation to me is always a cockblocker, but Riot’s looking at me as if he sees a Goddess, a crimson-haired beauty he wants to possess.

  I meet his eyes with a shy smile as he slips his fingers between my legs, stroking my wetness. Pleasure ripples through me, tearing through a loneliness I never knew was there. I snatch a breath, rocking my hips with a throaty hum I hardly recognize.

  “I told you to slow down,” Riot warns. “Keep your hips still. Come when I tell you.”

  I pant helplessly and try to obey, biting my tongue against the urge to tell him how badly I want him. Whatever he’s doing to my head, pleasing him has suddenly become the most important thing in the world.

  “Good girl.” His fingers glide inside my pussy, stroking in and out.

  How I keep my hips still, I have no idea. Each stroke takes me higher. My thighs shake with the effort not to fuck his touch.

  “See? You do know how to be a good girl. You’re so perfect.”

  The praise fills my heart with a joy that makes zero sense. This isn’t me…

  Riot quickens his pace, his thumb circling my clit.

  “Ah…oh, God, Riot…”

  Right when I’m about to go over the edge, his hand slides away. I whimper helplessly.

  Instead of stripping me bare, he undoes his cut and slips it off of his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor.

  I lift my head, my eyes widening at the sight of this biker god before me. He said I wasn’t to speak without permission, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from blurting out how beautiful he is.

  Riot’s chest and each of his arms are a work of art. Tats in black and grey ink cover his skin. Three skulls span his powerful chest. They’re strange, with elongated open jaws that add to his beastly appeal, interspersed with the gears and chrome work of a bike’s mechanical parts. The tats are both beautiful and a little frightening all at once.

  As he reaches over and runs his hands over my chest and along my stomach, I catch a glimpse of another skull on each of his arms, both like the ones on his chest, along with that sword with its elaborate hilt on each shoulder.

  His eyes sparkle when he catches me staring. “You like?”

  “I love.” I reach up to touch him, but he shoves me back down.

  “What did I tell you?”

  “You’re not playing fair.”

  He chuckles and undoes his pants, pushing them down onto his hips. I’m given a half a second to glimpse his magnificent cock, a huge, thick instrument of sexual beauty, long and hard as steel, before he grabs my wrist and spins me onto my stomach.

  My blood heats until my head swims. The position he’s put me in makes me feel so vulnerable and helpless, so…

  At his mercy.

  Real nervousness, and a tiny bite of fear bolt through me, but it’s coupled with pulse-pounding excitement that has my heartbeat filling my ears. Especially when he lays over me, crushing me into the mattress with his weight.

  “Riot—” I push up, trying to turn onto my back again, anything to regain the control I’m not accustomed to giving up.

  “I told you to keep your mouth shut, Red.” His lips brush my ear while his hands trap my arms above my head. “I’m sure you’re used to wrapping the men around your bratty little finger, but that’s not how this is going to work.”

  I pant, my pussy clenching with his every word.

  “From now until I finish with you, you’re going to lie here while I fuck you good and hard all night.”

  Oh my God, help me. My whole body burns, aching for him.

  Riot waits until I nod jerkily, then he pulls my pants the rest of the way off. He makes the act feel nasty and mean and hot. I feel him push his own down, and his cock is against my back, pressed between us. He spreads my legs apart with his.

  “You might be leaving in a month, but until we get back to the clubhouse, you belong to me. Understand?”

  I nod.

  “Answer me.”

  “Yes. Yes, Riot I understand.”

  “Such a good girl.” His tongue darts into my ear. “I know you think that because you’re the Prez’s little sister, you can say and do whatever the fuck you want. Tonight, you aren’t Devil’s sister. Tonight, you know what you are?”

  Oh, shit. I know exactly what he’s going to say. The words hang in the air, erotic and forbidden, and begging to be said.

  Riot is not an idiot; he has to know the risk in what he’s doing. There are women who would play his game for the night and then run off and tell the Prez on him just for fun. I wouldn’t do that, but he has to know he’s on dangerous ground. He’s not afraid, and I love it.

  “Tell me what you are, Red,” he prompts.

  So he’s going to make me say it. That’s hotter somehow, but also a lot harder than hearing him say it.

  “I’m a club whore,” I say, burying my face in the mattress and muffling my voice.

  Riot’s hand seizes my hair, tugging my head up. The sting makes me moan. “I didn’t hear you. Say it again.”

  I close my eyes. “I’m a club whore.” My voice sounds thick with need. Fuck, I’ve never been so wet in my life.

  Riot lets out a throaty growl. His hand glides over the back of my leg, jerking my knee up and spreading me wider for him. He flicks my hair off my shoulders and positions me the way he wants me, licking my shoulders and back all the while.

  With nothing to do but wait to be taken, I grip the end of the mattress, my breathing ragged in my ears, my pussy throbbing to be filled.

  Riot slides down a little, and then his cock teases my entrance. He grips my shoulder, holding me in place for him, then rams himself into me in a single harsh, possessive stroke.

  Pure, raw pleasure shoot through me, causing my legs to buck and my head to toss back. A hungry moan rips from my throat. “Fuck, Riot.”

  He moans greedily and pounds into me fast and hard.

  “Oh my… Fuck, Riot, I can’t handle this. I’m gonna die.”

  “Shut up,” he growls, thrusting faster. “Take what I give you.”

  I try to buck my hips, but he’s too heavy, I try to reach the floor with my feet and gain some measure of control, but the angle is wrong for that, so all I can do is lie there helplessly and take him. I grip the mattress and whimper his name.

  “Good girl. Lie there and let me fuck you.” He grunts, driving in and out of me possessively.

  Riot’s hand slides over my cheek until his fingers grip my jaw. He jerks my face up and my eyes collide with the mirror on the wall in front of me. It’s a full length mirror, and in it, I see my face, my eyes glazed with need, my body spread out, being taken roughly by this big, blond tatted up god.

  “What are you, Red?” Riot rumbles into my ear. “Tell me what you are.”

  “A whore,” I manage breathlessly. “I’m a whore.”

  Only when I see his wicked smile in the mirror do I realize what I’d said. There’s a world of difference between a club girl, and the kind of whore I just called myself. In the biker world, it’s a necessary role t
hat someone has to fill. As soon as you take that role out of the biker world, it becomes something much dirtier. Much lower, and yet, Riot somehow makes it sexy. He makes it okay, as long as I’m his whore.

  “That’s right. My whore. My dirty, sexy, greedy little whore.”

  I moan in pleasure and he fucks me deeper, groaning his own need with every stroke. He’s so vocal, it surprises me, and makes me want him more. That’s the sound of real pleasure, of a man so comfortable with himself, and with me, that he doesn’t care who hears him.

  “Give me your mouth,” he orders.

  I turn my head and he cups my jaw, licking and lapping at my mouth. I flick my tongue out, dancing it around his.

  “Fuck, you’re so sexy.” He devours my mouth. Then he lets go, rears up and, as if his control his broken, he lifts my hips and pounds me savagely. He fists my hair, yanks my head back. He lets out long, greedy grunts and the bed thumps with his thrusts.

  “Look at the mirror, whore. Watch yourself getting fucked.”

  He sounds more like an animal than a man, wild and brutal and hungry. I stare into the mirror, watching him fuck me like a man possessed.

  Pleasure mounts, and I cry out. The whole hotel can probably hear us, and it makes me wetter.

  “Come for me, sweet thing,” he orders.

  As if his words have taken over my mind and body, I careen over the edge, clawing at the bed and screaming.

  A growl escapes Riot and he leans over, biting me on the shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise. I cry out and the pain makes me come again. He gives me a handful of sharp thrusts, then pulls out. His fist pumps his cock and hot liquid covers my back. The heat of it, the feel of his come on me makes my pussy clench and I almost come again.

  We collapse onto the bed together, panting.

  “How in the hell are you so hot?” I murmur, burrowing into the mattress while a sated, wonderfully tired feeling washes over me.

  “Fuck.” He turns my head to the side and eats at my mouth. “You were made for this life, Red. Made for me.”

  The words snap me back to reality, an unpleasant reminder of my plans for the future. That I’m getting out of the club, out of this life, and that our time together is painfully limited. That future doesn’t seem so clear now, and the thought makes my chest tighten.