by BB Easton
Drug dealer, my guilty conscience whispered.
Fuck you, Guilt. He has a job, I snapped back. Maybe mechanics make good money.
You just keep telling yourself that, honey, my guilt whispered in a patronizing tone.
When Harley and I got back to his car, we looked at the shit in our hands, then at the Boss, then at each other, and then burst out laughing. Harley set his new chair down in an empty parking spot, lit a cigarette, and had himself a seat. He casually draped one arm over the back of the chair and rested one ankle on the opposite knee. Something about his posture reminded me of a king on a throne—a scruffy, tattooed king in his crumbling inner-city kingdom.
Always up for a good challenge, I eyeballed the car, doing all kinds of mental calculations. “Do you have any space in your trunk?” I asked.
Harley’s faced morphed from smug to severe in the blink of an eye. “Nope,” he said flatly. “Trunk’s full.”
That was it. “Trunk’s full.”
He didn’t offer any explanation. Didn’t volunteer to move some things around to make space. The trunk was off-limits, and so was that conversation.
“Okaaaay…” I said, furrowing my brow at his sudden change in demeanor. “Let me try something else.”
I wrestled the jackalope and T-shirts into the tiny backseat area behind the driver’s seat, then slid the passenger seat as far back as it would go. I flicked my fingers at Harley, gesturing for him to bring me the chair. He carried it over to me, and I was able to flip it upside down and nestle it into the passenger seat like a puzzle piece.
“Ha!” I exclaimed, turning around and poking Harley in the chest with my finger. “I fucking did it!”
Harley looked over my shoulder, eyeing my handiwork. “Good job,” he said with a smirk. “So, where are you gonna sit?”
“Fuck,” I muttered, turning around to recalculate.
With both front seats pushed all the way back—one to accommodate the chair and one to accommodate Harley’s long legs—there was no way I was going to fit back there without losing an eye to a jackalope antler.
While the wheels in my head were still spinning with alternate configurations, Harley walked around and sat in the driver’s seat. Looking at me through the open passenger door with bright eyes and a dark expression, he said, “Looks like you’re ridin’ bitch.”
I raised a confused eyebrow at him. “I thought riding bitch was when somebody sat in the middle seat.”
“Not the way I do it,” he said, patting his lap.
Unable and suddenly unwilling to figure out another way, I slammed the passenger door shut and practically pole-vaulted over to Harley’s side of the car. I climbed into his lap and sat sideways, sticking my feet in an open space under the chair on the passenger seat. Afraid that I was blocking his view, I ducked my head into the crook of Harley’s neck and pressed a little kiss into the scruff below his jaw.
“Fuck,” Harley hissed, pulling his door shut with one hand and gripping my hip with the other. His cock swelled and hardened against my ass as he claimed my mouth with those full fucking lips. Harley’s left hand gripped the back of my fuzzy shaved head while his right kneaded the flesh beneath my fuzzy tiger-striped pants.
The cold steel of Harley’s lip ring warmed quickly against my mouth. I couldn’t wait to hear it clink against the barbell in my clit. Or the ones in my nipples.
Shit.
The thought of my piercings brought me back to the present. Knight had done those piercings himself, not even a hundred feet away. And now I was making out with another guy, another man, in his fucking parking spot. We had to get out of there. We had to get the fuck out now.
“Let’s go home,” I whispered into Harley’s parted lips.
Harley cranked the engine, turned the AC on full blast, and pulled out of the parking lot with one eye on the road and his tongue still tangled with mine. I pulled away so that he could drive, but it wasn’t easy. My mouth continued to nip and suck at his neck and stubbled jaw. Between shifts, Harley’s right hand slipped between my legs, causing my breath to become ragged against his skin. He slid his fingers along my seam, over my clothes, sending a jolt of electricity through me every time his pressure passed over my piercing.
Turning his head toward mine, Harley growled, “Shift. Into fourth. Now.”
I fumbled with my left hand until I found the gearshift. As soon as I felt Harley step on the clutch, I pulled it down into the fourth position.
The car accelerated as Harley’s hand slid beneath the waistband of my pants and into my ruined panties. The second his finger found steel, Harley groaned, “Fuck me,” and pressed his soda can of an erection into my hip even harder. He rubbed the jewelry in small circles, then said, “I want to see it,” in a voice so gruff, I didn’t recognize it as his.
“Watch the road,” I panted back.
Harley slid his hand out and gripped the stretchy material in his fist, yanking my pants and cotton panties down in one motion so that he could see what he’d felt. “Goddamn,” he muttered. “Pierced and fucking bald. Who are you?” Harley released my clothes to downshift and turn onto a side street.
“I’ve been wondering the same thing about you,” I admitted, latching on to his neck and sucking until the capillaries burst.
I could tell we were getting close to the house because Harley was doing a lot more shifting and making a lot more turns.
“I’m the guy who’s gonna lick that pussy in about thirty seconds,” he growled, just as I felt the car go over a bump and down a steep hill.
The interior went dark as Harley pulled into the garage behind his house. He popped the parking brake and threw open his door, not bothering to turn off the motor or air-conditioning, before sliding out from under me. Kneeling on the cement floor of the garage, Harley grabbed my hips and rotated me so that I was sitting sideways in the driver’s seat. He tugged my tiger-striped pants and sopping-wet panties to my ankles with both hands. Then, he sat back on his heels and pushed my knees apart with the callous hands of a man who knew his way around a machine.
The air in the garage was stiflingly hot, but the way Harley wet his lips as he stared at my exposed flesh gave me chills. His hands slid further up the insides of my thighs as his head dipped forward, and suddenly, slick heat collided with slick heat. Harley dragged his tongue up the length of my pussy like an ice cream cone. Like something he’d been waiting to savor. I leaned back with my elbows on the center console and my head on the wooden chair taking up the passenger seat as Harley pushed my thighs even further apart. Spreading me open with his thumbs, he licked me again. And again.
The car growled and vibrated underneath me, only heightening the experience. When Harley slid a thick finger inside me, my body gratefully clenched around it. When he curled it forward and stroked a spot I hadn’t even known existed, I arched my back and groaned without shame. And when he switched from long, torturous licks to quick flicks of his tongue over my barbell, I gripped the console with both hands, threw my head back, and screamed.
By the time I fell back to earth, Harley had shut off the engine, scooped me up in his arms, and was carrying me up the back stairs with my pants still around my ankles. He unlocked the back door and kicked it open, then set my bare ass on the kitchen counter and kissed me, hard.
“Get these off,” Harley growled, tapping my ankle.
I bent forward just enough to wrestle my combat boots, pants, and panties off, but didn’t relinquish Harley’s mouth until he lifted my tank top over my head. As he removed his own shirt, I quickly unclasped my bra and tossed it aside, not wanting him to discover that it weighed five pounds and was full of water.
At the sight of his dick, my eyes went wide, and my mouth fell open. I wasn’t built to take dicks the size of Pringles cans, yet there I was, face-to-face with another one.
My shock was quelled when Harley reached out with both hands and ran the pads of his thumbs over my nipples.
“They’re wings?” he a
sked with awe in his voice.
For once, I forgot to be insecure about my complete and total lack of breasts. The barbells through my nipples had tiny silver wings on each side instead of beads. Knight had picked the jewelry out for me—a fact that I tried desperately to push out of my mind the second Harley’s hand palmed my tiny breast and his mouth closed around my own. Taking a step forward, Harley pressed his thick erection against my trembling core. He slid it up and down as we kissed, bathing himself in my cum, which I could taste all over his lips.
“What do you want to do?” he rasped into my mouth.
“I want to fuck you,” I said.
It was the truth. Good, bad, or ugly, I wanted to fuck Harley James, and I had since the moment I laid eyes on him. I didn’t care if it was right or wrong. It was my choice, and I was choosing to feel good again. I was choosing happiness over despair. I was choosing Harley over a ghost.
Harley groaned and gripped my ass harder. “Fuck,” he hissed, grinding against me. “Say that again.”
“I want to fuck you,” I said, pulling his bottom lip into my mouth.
Harley pressed his forehead to mine and poised his manhood against my entrance.
Just before he surged forward, a bitchy, monotone voice inside my head whispered, Whore.
It was Juliet’s warning, echoing in my ears like a broken record.
“Girl, you’d better use protection. That guy is a whore.”
A whore…whore…whore…
As ready as I was for the sweet oblivion Harley was offering, I knew there was only one way to get Juliet to shut the fuck up.
Placing my hands on Harley’s taut stomach to stop his advance, I swallowed hard and whispered, “Condom?” I had some in my purse, but it was all the way out in the car.
Harley bent over and dug around in his pants pockets until he found a little foil packet tucked away in his wallet. Flashing me a wicked smirk, he ripped the square wrapper off and flicked it across the room without looking. Watching him slide his fist down the length of his shaft as he sheathed himself had me spreading my legs wider and gripping the edges of the kitchen counter with both hands.
When Harley stepped between my legs again, instead of claiming me right there on the kitchen counter, he grabbed my ass with both hands and picked me up. I squealed and wrapped my arms around his neck as he turned and laid me on my back on the kitchen table.
Smiling down at me, Harley pulled my knees up so that they were bracketing his rib cage and propped himself up on his forearms. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for the pain, but Harley entered gently. He swept his tongue into my open mouth as he pressed forward, inch by inch, allowing me time to adjust. He waited until I lifted my hips to urge him in deeper and didn’t fill me completely until I was digging my heels into his lower back, begging for more.
It didn’t hurt, and that was when I realized, for the first time in my life, that it didn’t have to. With Knight, it had always hurt. If not from his size, then from his teeth or his blade or his piercing needle. I’d learned that pleasure and pain just went hand in hand, but with Harley, there was only pleasure. He made sure of it.
“You okay?” Harley whispered once he was fully seated inside me. “You’re so fucking tight.”
I nodded, pressing my pelvis into his for encouragement.
Harley slid his forearms under my upper back and gripped my shoulders with his hands. Withdrawing slowly, he filled me again—that time, not quite as deep. I could tell he was being careful with me, and while I appreciated his thoughtfulness, it wasn’t what I was used to.
I was used to bloodshed.
“Harley,” I whispered, digging my heels into his back and lifting my hips to meet him.
“Fuck,” he growled. “You keep that up, I’m not gonna be able to hold out.”
“Don’t hold out,” I pleaded.
Eat me alive.
Harley’s grip on my back and shoulders tightened as he picked up the pace. The push and pull was delicious. The creaking of the table with every thrust was music to my ears. The taste of myself on Harley’s tongue was intoxicating. But when I captured his bottom lip with my teeth and sucked on his lip ring, Harley’s reserve finally crumbled. He used his upper body strength to pull my entire body down onto his thrusts, filling me to the hilt with every needy advance. I wrapped my forearms around his neck and held on for dear life, which was good because the table’s creaks suddenly turned into snaps and cracks.
Just before the entire thing collapsed beneath us.
With my limbs already wrapped around him and his arms cradling my back, Harley was able to stand up just before the bottom fell out, keeping us from ending up impaled on a pile of twisted aluminum. I screamed and squeezed him tighter as we both looked down at the wreckage.
With him still deep inside me, Harley’s gaze met mine.
“You just saved my life,” I said, kissing his sex-swollen lips.
“How will you ever repay me?” Harley gave me a sideways grin as he pressed my back against the kitchen wall.
“Oh, I can think of a few ways,” I said, my eyes rolling up into my head as he filled me again.
“Mmhmm…me, too,” Harley murmured into the crook of my neck.
Keeping me pinned to the wall with his hips, Harley suddenly let go of my back and grabbed my inner thighs with both hands. “I got you,” he reassured me when I clutched his neck and shoulders tighter.
He spread my legs as far apart as they would go with his hands. My thighs, which had been clamped around his waist, were now pressed against either side of my body by Harley’s strong palms. He cursed through his teeth as he watched himself enter me, quickly resuming the frantic pace he’d established on the kitchen table.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he hissed into my ear, filling me until his balls slapped my ass with each thrust. “Fuck.” Harley squeezed my thighs harder, pumped faster, and kissed the shit out of me until his cock stiffened and a moan ripped from his chest.
It was the sexiest sound I’d ever heard.
Breathing heavily, Harley slowly lowered my legs to the floor. He didn’t pull out of me though. Instead, he dropped his forehead to mine and asked, “What do you want to do?”
There was that question again. “What do you want to do?” I liked it.
“What do you mean?” I panted, squeezing my thighs around his already-recovering cock.
“I mean,” he breathed, “how do you like to get off?”
My cheeks heated. After what we’d just done, I shouldn’t have been embarrassed, but for some reason, saying what I liked sexually out loud made me feel shy. Nobody’d ever asked me before.
Swallowing hard, I looked up at him and admitted, “I like to be on top.”
Harley furrowed his brow as he met my demure gaze. Still catching his breath, he repeated my words indignantly, “You like to be on top?” He gestured behind himself at the pile of rubble in the middle of the floor. “You mean, I did all that work for nothin’?”
I burst into nervous laughter, and Harley watched my giggle fit with a self-satisfied grin on his face.
“Woman,” he said, wrapping my legs around his waist again, “you can ride my cock anytime, anyplace, anywhere.”
Reason number nine million forty bajillion why I was totally, irreparably, and hopelessly falling for Harley James.
Harley carried me into his bedroom and managed to sit in the middle of his mattress—I couldn’t even call that thing a bed—without ever pulling out of me. I clung to him with my arms and legs as he flopped onto his back, his head landing on the pillow. His sheets were navy blue and surprisingly soft. With the sunlight coming in from the blinds I’d opened earlier, it didn’t feel like an opium den at all anymore. It felt like the only place I wanted to be.
The jolt of our landing caused Harley’s dick to surge inside me. Our eyes locked, and suddenly, we were back. Starving for each other, as if the car and the kitchen had never happened.
I propped myself up wi
th my hands on his chest and ground into him, taking the opportunity to look down and admire his body. Harley was beautiful. Filled out and muscular but in a natural way—like a man who worked for a living, not like the ’roided-out weight lifter I was used to. His defined arms were decorated with hot rods and flames from shoulder to wrist, and his strong hands—stained black in the creases from working on cars—touched me with appreciation and reverence. Not with anger. Not with the intention of making me bleed.
As I hovered over him, Harley slid his rough hands up my bony ribs, palmed my petite breasts, and stroked my pierced nipples with both thumbs. The sensation sent a tingly bolt of electricity directly to my clit. I moaned and ground the bundle of nerves into him harder. God, I was so close.
Harley cursed as I rolled my hips. Then he sat up, taking me by surprise. Wrapping his meaty hands around my waist, Harley drove my body up and down along his shaft as he pulled one straining pink nipple into his mouth. When he grazed it with his teeth, the electric current I’d felt moments before exploded into a lightning storm. I grabbed his face and whimpered into his mouth as my pussy contracted violently around his cock.
“Fuck, woman,” Harley groaned, digging his thick fingers into my hips.
He lifted my body up at least half a foot and held me there, thrusting into me hard and fast from underneath. His increased tempo and desperation only heightened my orgasm. I clung to him with all my strength as my inner walls gripped him like a vise, wave after wave of pleasure racking my body.
Harley came with a guttural, primal grunt as he pulled me down onto his straining cock one last time. We tumbled backward onto the mattress—spent and, for the time being, sated. With my restless mind silenced, I snuggled into Harley’s warm chest, lulled to sleep by the drifting of his fingertips along my spine and the throbbing of his pulse where we were still joined.
I woke to the sound of Dave banging around in the kitchen and yelling about a table. It must have woken Harley up too, because he snorted and pulled me closer, completely unconcerned. The movement reminded me that he was still inside me, and evidently, his little nap had given him a brand-new boner.