by B. B. Hamel
“I claimed her,” Ford said.
The gray-haired man sighed and walked over. “Why’d you do that, Ford?”
“I like her look.”
The older man shook his head. “What’s her deal?”
“Witnessed a club hit,” Spoil said. “Something about the Rebels. She thought we were their clubhouse. Probably been here back when we were close.”
The man nodded and looked at me. “What’s your name, girl?”
“Caralee,” I said softly.
He looked back at Ford. “You really claiming this?”
“I am,” Ford said, staring the man down.
The man stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head. “The girl is Ford’s.”
There was a general uproar then, anger and disagreement. The man raised his hands, silencing the room.
“You have a fucking problem, take it up with Ford.”
“Thanks, Larkin,” Ford said. He turned to me. “Come on.”
I wanted to say something, but Ford had already grabbed me by the arm and was dragging me outside.
The last thing I saw before we exited the room was Clutch and Spoil glaring daggers at us and Larkin disappearing back into the back room.
Chapter Four: Ford
“What the fuck did you get yourself involved with?”
She shook her head, still clearly in shock. “How are you here?” she asked me.
“Joined after you left. Listen to me, Caralee. What fucking happened? What did you see?”
The story came out of her again, this time a little more clearly. Her friend Rod was clearly some low-level asshole in the Rebels, probably running some side deal to try to score points with the leadership. Clearly his deal went wrong.
And the dumb fucking asshole had brought Caralee along. I had no clue what kind of insane club member would bring an outsider on a drop like that. He probably was trying to impress her or some shit, or at least that was what she said.
So Rod gets fucking hit. The guys that did it grab the shit, grab his saddle bags, and ride the fuck off.
With her purse in the bags, of course, which means they know who she is, and probably have some good reason to believe she was there.
What a fucking mess. And to top it all off, she stupidly comes stumbling into our clubhouse and starts asking for help like an insane person.
I shook my head, staring at her.
She looked exactly like the girl I remembered. Thick brown hair, full body, incredible tits, a mouth that begged to be kissed, begged to have a cock between her lips. She looked like pure sex and always had, except now she was all grown up.
And for whatever insane reason, I had decided to claim her.
Of course, she didn’t know what that meant. Not yet, at least, and I wasn’t about to explain it to her while she was still in shock.
“How is this happening to me, Ford?”
I shook my head. “Bad fucking luck.”
“And how are you here?”
“Good fucking luck actually.” I paused. “You know how dangerous that was?”
She shook her head silently.
“They could have killed you,” I said. “Probably should have. You brought some serious shit on our doorstep.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Yeah, well, worked out for you.”
“I wasn’t trying to cause any issues.”
We stopped walking, and I leaned up against the wall out front of the bikes. She stood in front of me, her arms crossed.
“Why are you helping me?” she asked.
I looked at her. “I remember you.”
She nodded slowly. “I remember you, too.”
“I’m not the type to let a damsel in distress go unhelped.”
“You’re so charming.”
“Not really,” I grunted. “Just don’t feel like seeing you murdered on my watch.”
“What now?” she asked. “Those guys are out there. They know who I am.”
“Relax,” I said, holding up a hand. “You can crash at my place tonight.”
She stared at me for a second. I couldn’t help but stare back at her piercing blue eyes, her fucking ample lips, and I had the sudden desire to fuck her right there in the alley. Wouldn’t have been the first time I took some slut back behind the club and fucked her senseless, but Caralee wasn’t just some slut.
“Come on,” I said. “Get on.”
I climbed onto my bike, and she hesitated before getting on the back. I handed her my helmet and she pushed it down over her head.
I kicked the bike and it roared to life. I backed out slowly, gave it some gas, and then fell into the street. We zoomed down the road, heading toward the city limits.
My place wasn’t too far outside the city. I lived in a little shack at the end of a dirty road, the sort of place that suited me. Quiet, away from civilization, but not too far from the club.
It only took us fifteen minutes since nobody else was out on the road at three in the morning. I felt Caralee hugging me hard from behind, gripping my body. I could feel my cock stirring in my jeans at the thought of her body pressed against mine.
We drove down the dirty road toward my little house. Time slipped by fast, and it always did when I was riding. Finally I stopped in front of my porch, kicking down my stand and killing the engine.
She climbed off the back and I stood up.
“Home sweet home,” I said.
“It’s cute.”
“Small,” I grunted. “Not cute.”
She shrugged, and I led her up the steps, onto the porch, and in through the front door. It wasn’t much, and I liked it that way. One large living room slash kitchen space, a separate bathroom, and a bedroom. That was it. I didn’t need a lot of comforts, especially since I wasn’t home much. I had a creek that ran through my backyard, some woods where I could hunt if I wanted, and the nearest neighbor knew to leave me the fuck alone.
She stood awkwardly by the door as I tossed my keys and my jacket onto the kitchen table.
“What am I doing here?” she said softly.
“You’re in hiding.”
She shook her head. “It’s crazy. Rod was alive just a few hours ago.” She looked at me, her eyes haunted. “They killed him.”
“I know, girl,” I said softly. “You’re in shock. Come here.”
I led her by the hand back into my bedroom, kicking the door open. I flicked on the light and nodded. “You can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“I can’t put you out.”
“You ain’t,” I said. “Sleep here. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
She sat down on the bed, looking at her hands. She looked up at me again. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” I said. “Get some sleep. You need it.”
She nodded numbly. I flicked off the light, left the room, and shut the door behind me.
I walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer, cracking it open. I sat down on the couch and took a long, heavy pull on it, sighing to myself.
Why was I helping her? Because I had some good memories of her when we were kids? All that shit was a long, long time ago. We were both different people. Just because she stumbled back into my life talking about some dead biker boyfriend didn’t mean I had to stick my neck out for her.
And yet there was something about her. I’d never forgotten the last time I saw her. Hell, I’d even fucking jerked off while thinking of what I had missed out on. And seeing her there, looking just as fine as the day she left, well, it was almost like I didn’t have a choice.
I kicked off my boots and lay back on the couch, sipping my beer. Tomorrow I’d have to explain to her exactly what had happened back at the clubhouse. The girl still didn’t understand what was going on.
And I’d need to get more information about this Rod guy. I needed to know if I should worry about what had happened, if the guys that did the hit were coming after he
r or if it would all blow over without a hitch.
I closed my eyes, dreaming of the girl back in my bedroom, of what I would have done to that body.
Of what I wanted to do to it.
Chapter Five: Caralee
He always seemed to be watching.
It wasn’t weird, not really. Years ago, he was just the boy across the street.
The badass, muscular asshole boy. His mom was a drunk and his daddy was never around, so Ford did whatever he wanted. Usually that was riding his motorcycle and flirting with girls.
I had to admit that I was watching him from a distance, too. We didn’t talk much. Sometimes he nodded at me, and that always sent a chill down my spine. Ford was totally unlike the guys I hung around with at school. We ran with totally different crowds even though we were about the same age.
He was intense. He wasn’t much of a talker from what I could tell, but he was always bringing around some new blond girl, probably all from different schools. He was charming and sexy as hell, over six feet tall, and covered in muscles by the time we both turned eighteen.
That was the summer just before I was supposed to go off to college. I had been accepted at the University of Texas in Austin, and I was finally leaving our tiny town for the city. I could hardly contain my excitement. Plus, Daddy was happy for me, excited that I was trying to make something of myself.
My daddy was a cop and a drinker, like Ford’s mom but more violent. I got used to it as I got older, and I figured out ways to survive. He rarely laid hands on me, even when he was at his worst.
Sometimes, though, Daddy could really lose his temper. It only happened a few times, but the last time, and the last time I saw him, was by far the worst.
It was late on a Saturday night. I had been out with some friends seeing a movie, and I got home a few minutes past curfew. I crept up to the front door, hoping that Daddy had already passed out.
But he was wide awake.
“You’re late, girl,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Movie was longer than I thought.”
“You sure about that?” he asked, standing up.
“Of course.” I shut the front door behind me.
I could tell something was off. The look in his eyes was intense, terrifying. Something had happened to set him off, but I was guessing it had nothing to do with me. Still, I was the daughter of the woman that left him, and so he’d take it out on me anyway.
“I’m sick of you breakin’ my rules, Caralee,” he said, coming toward me.
“Please, you’re drunk,” I said.
“I ain’t drunk!” he shouted, flinging his bottle at me.
I ducked, but barely. It shattered on the wall behind me.
He lurched at me, grabbing my arms. I struggled, and he reached one hand back and slapped me hard across the face.
“Stop!” I screamed.
“Shut your mouth,” he said. “So tired of you not listenin’ to me, you little bitch.”
He reached back to slap me again, but I shoved him back and tore my arm away from him. I turned and threw the front door open, running out into the front yard.
“Get the fuck back here!” he yelled, coming after me.
I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have left the house, knew that I should have just stayed quiet and taken his abuse. But I was so close to leaving, so damn close to getting out of that house and never looking back. I couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t let him abuse me anymore.
And so I ran out into the street. He came after me, yelling abuse. “Stop right now, bitch! Get back here!”
I looked around, panicked. There was nowhere for me to run.
And then there was the sound of a motorcycle roaring down the road.
He appeared out of nowhere. His bike stopped between me and Daddy. He looked at me. “Get on,” he said.
I stared at him, hesitating. I had never been on a bike before.
“The fuck is this?” Daddy roared.
Ford kicked him in the stomach, flinging him back. He landed on his ass in a pile of mud.
“Come on,” Ford said to me.
I threw my legs over the back, grabbed onto his strong, muscular body, and held on. The bike roared to life and we were off, flying through the night.
I had never laughed so loudly in my entire life. The image of Daddy drunk out of his mind and angry as hell in that mud puddle was too incredible. The feeling of flying combined with that image made the sting of Daddy’s slap disappear.
I held on to Ford’s ripped body as we drove. I didn’t care where we were going, so long as we just kept moving. I wanted to go forever, to ride on that bike forever, to get far, far away from Daddy and our shitty small town.
Soon, though, Ford pulled off the main road down a gravel path. He stopped when we got to the end and climbed off.
I stood up and stared at him. Ford took his helmet off and nodded at me. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Come on.” He started walking toward some woods. I hesitated but decided to follow him. Ford was a little scary and had a pretty bad reputation, but I had never seen him do anything dangerous. True, he was cocky, and sometimes he’d said some pretty dirty things to me over the years. But frankly, he made my heart race, and I could tell that my pussy was soaking wet, a new feeling for me.
He made me feel something no other boy had. That was probably because Ford was a man already, tall, broad, and covered in muscles. He didn’t have that awkward, self-conscious uncertainty that other boys did. Ford took what he wanted when he wanted it, and he didn’t seem to care what other people thought of him.
I followed as he moved through the dark woods. I stumbled once but he caught me, holding me upright. He didn’t say a word, just kept walking.
Eventually we walked out into a clearing. We stood at the bank of a lake, and a single bench was just ahead. He walked over to it and sat down.
I sat down next to him. We looked out over the water together.
“Your old man is a real prick,” he said.
“I know.”
“He ever lay a hand on you like that again, you come to my house. Okay?”
I looked at him, surprised. “You know he’s a cop, right?”
“I don’t give a fuck about that. Just because he’s a cop doesn’t mean he’s not a fucking asshole.”
I nodded. “Okay.” I paused, frowning. “Why are you helping me?”
“Because you make me fucking hard, Caralee.”
I was surprised at that. “What do you mean?” I said stupidly.
“You know I look at you. It’s because I’ve wanted to fuck that body of yours for as long as I’ve known you. Shit, since we were little kids.”
“You helped me because you want to have sex with me?”
He laughed. “No, not exactly. My mom is like your dad, you know. Except I’m bigger than she is. I guess I noticed you needed someone bigger than your dad to help out.”
“Oh,” I said. “Your mom drinks?”
“Like a fucking fish. Your dad would like her.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “How didn’t I know that?”
“I keep that shit under wraps. Been bigger than her for a long time now.”
We were quiet then, just sitting next to each other. I kept thinking about him getting hard, about him watching me, and that excitement in my core just kept building. Ford was way more than I’d thought he was, more than just the hot asshole across the street. I’d never expected him to help me like that, much less to open up about having a drunk for a mom.
He looked down at me and grinned. I was looking up at him, my mouth hanging open.
That was when he kissed me.
I pressed my body against his, our lips moving together, his tongue entering my mouth. I’d never been kissed like that before, so intensely, such an amazing hunger. That feeling in my core practically exploded, my pussy beyond soaked, and waves of intense, exciting pleasure s
wept through me.
His arms grabbed me and pulled me on top of him. I straddled him and could feel his cock hard against my core. I gasped a little as he kept kissing me, and I began to rub myself against him.
I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t know what I was doing, really. All I knew was that his cock felt amazing against my soaked pussy through my thin shorts, and I just kept grinding against him.
“Fuck, girl,” he grunted. “You’re going to make me come in my pants.”
I gasped as he kissed my neck and moved faster. I could feel something building inside me, building faster and faster. I was so young back then, I had no clue what was happening.
But as he felt my breasts and kissed my neck, it began to crest.
“Fuck, Caralee,” he grunted. “I’ve been thinking about fucking this pussy nice and deep for a long time,” he said.
“Oh wow. Shit,” I gasped.
I kept moving my hips, and he grabbed my ass, pushing me against him harder. His lips felt incredible against mine, against my neck, his hands firm on my hips and my ass, feeling my breasts.
I could barely control myself. I knew that I was just grinding my soaked pussy against his hard cock, knew that it shouldn’t have felt so good, but it did. I’d never really done anything like that before, and the excitement of the night, plus Ford’s overwhelming attraction, all made it build and build.
My whole body tensed as an incredibly explosive pleasure moved through me in a wave.
“Oh fuck, Ford,” I moaned. “Oh my god.”
“Keep moving, girl,” he grunted in my ear. “Keep moving those hips.”
It exploded through me, blinding my mind, filling me with only pleasure, pleasure, Ford and pleasure.
It was my first orgasm.
“Oh my god,” I said after it finally ended. He kissed me softly, grinning.
“You liked that?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I whispered.
“You just got off for me. You know that right?”
“Really?” I said, surprised.
He laughed, his asshole grin enormous. “Never had an orgasm before? Those pussy boys you hang out with aren’t getting you off?”
“No,” I said, blushing. “It’s not like that with them.”