by Amy Law
Her hip pushed back against his stiffening pride. Still locked in the depth of the kiss, she felt his smile, his strength. His heart thumped against her chest.
His hand meanwhile strayed down to the front of her skirt. Then it slipped inside. Her mind wanted to resist,but her body moved towards him. As he pressed on the top of her mound, her thighs clamped his, every muscle in her body clenched, and she sighed.
He pushed down on her pelvic bone and it made her wild for the touch of his fingers, his skin, on her, both there and below.
Ryder slid his fingers into her panties. Her hips jerked at the touch of his skin on hers. She meant for her body to push him away, but somehow it drew him tighter. Closer. As his fingers roamed lower, her hips strained up to him.
She ached for his touch. Thrummed at the strength and the skill of his fingers. He pressed down to feel where she was moist and then pulled his fingers back to rub higher up, slowly.
She moaned and clung to him and his finger slid up and then around. Her buttocks clenched and her thighs shook as the rising waves of sensation began to overtake her. She should make him stop. Yes. YES. But not yet.
She pulled back. She managed to say his name, “Ryder?”.
“Jesska?”
“I’m…” she tried to say, ‘I’m not ready’ but her voice choked off. She pressed her hand on his chest. She tried to push him away, but she wanted to feel his strength. With her hand on the back of his head, her fingers entwined in his hair. She pulled him to her and their mouths met again.
She stroked his hard neck as they kissed. Her breath quaked in his mouth. She had only ever kissed one other man with a mustache, and he was much, much older, a professor. It wasn’t like this. Not at all like this.
She thought he would press her to go further. Her insides wrenched between wanting him to and wanting to resist. In a dizzying flash she knew that what she wanted most was for him to press her, so that she could resist, and for him then to overcome her.
She shuddered and shook. She kissed him and clung to him and her emotions churned through her body. He held her waited.
When her shaking subsided, he asked her, “Come back into the clubhouse?”
“No. I should go. Let’s stay out here a little longer though. Stay with me?”
His eyes flashed and at his soft smile, her knees threatened to buckle.
Ryder told her that Mace was from the Skulls and he had come with a deal. As he was a guest from another club, Blades had obligations to offer hospitality. Remembering him in that back room Jess thought, That went a lot further than any kind of hospitality I know about, but she kept it to herself.
She wanted to know more about what was happening in the ‘rumpus room,’ but she didn’t want to ask. She had a strong sense too that if she found out she’d regret it. She wanted to take him on trust,even against the odds, the evidence of her eyes, and the storm of emotion that brewed up inside her as she clung to him.
Chapter 10
Haughey, Red Skulls VP, was the acting president while Iron was on his enforced leave of absence. The big, red-headed Irishman came to the clubhouse door to greet Ryder and Bear. He gave both of them wide smiles, firm bro-hugs, put an arm on each of their shoulders and steered them to the bar.
It seemed every man in the club clapped their shoulders. Whiskey flowed and Haughey said he would take them into a back room, “To nail the details.”
Bear whispered to Ryder, “Details? I didn’t think we’d agreed yet.”
The Red Skulls had a setback, something of a disruption of service, when Iron, their President, and his Sergeant-at-Arms, Jam, both had been hauled into the cells forselling, or allegedly attempting to sell, a pound and a half of ninety-six percent pure coke, according to Bear’s contact in the PD.
Bear spoke quietly into Ryder’s ear, “Never mind that nobody sells coke that pure, nobody can even get coke that pure. It’s been stepped on harder than that before it ever gets near a US border.”
Ryder nodded. “Damn right. That isn’t a commodity, that’s a goddamned collectors item.”
Bear said, “And, forget that the Skulls don’t ever sell coke wholesale. The biggest bag anyone ever bought from them would be about an ounce, two at the most. The Skulls ship or buy coke wholesale, and they sell it retail.”
“Makes no sense,” Ryder agreed.
Bear went on, “While we’re at it, just overlook about the fact that the two senior men in the club would never be out on the street for a one-time deal.” Their eyes met and Bear said, “Street whores in Tijuana smell less of fish than that deal.”
So, the Skulls’ top men are in the county lock-up, and their VP comes to Blades MC, asking them to take over the Skulls’ next monthly arms shipment. He’s offering a big slice of the Skulls’ main earner to Blades, a rival club. Blades send Ryder and Bear to the meet on their behalf, and Ryder, an unaffiliated nomad. Haughey doesn’t even bat an eye.
No, he treats Ryder like he’s the goddamn rainmaker, and Bear like he’s the King of Spain.
Haughey brought four girls into the back room with them. The stacked redhead carried a spliff and a baggie full of weed, and the petite raven-haired minx had a silver tray with a bottle of bourbon and gleaming shot glasses.
Bear and Ryder settled on a couch. Bear whispered, “Let’s just see where this road leads.”
The girls’ wide eyes shone. Women always wanted a piece of Ryder, and he was usually happy to oblige. It wasn’t often that a motorcycle club high council member came offering his best girls as—as what, a tribute? as a sweetener?—but why did Haughey want to please them so bad? It should have been the other way around.
Bear was determined to take full advantage of the gifts on offer. Two of the girls dragged his jeans open and they squealed and giggled as they hauled out his long, thick cock. They took turns to lick along the length of it, to suck on his balls and to plunge their young mouths over his proud, stiffening shaft.
He slowly pulled the redhead’s panties down over her nubile thighs and chuckled at her pubes, shaved into a red heart. Her eyes widened when he sunk his bearded face into her soft, tight little wet pussy. Her back arched and her hands flew into her hair as she moaned and rocked her pelvis on his mouth.
Ryder watched with a detached look of amusement and accepted a fat joint from the nimble black-haired girl. She stroked and nuzzled his chest, nibbled at his nipples and slid her sharp teeth down his abs.
When she dragged her neat little nails down his stomach and got to his belt, he breathed thick and hard, but to her surprise and his, he pulled her hands gently away. “Restricted zone, sweetheart,” he told her with a smile.
He could have just been having some fun, but he realized that he knew what he wanted. This young girl, lovely though she was, was not it. He had no appetite for distraction. He knew where the real thing was. Bear saw what was going on and, when he figured it out, he did his level best to torture Ryder.
He got the redhead on the couch on her knees with her face inches from Ryder’s. He felt her pants of breath and watched her gleaming eyes water as Bear pried her open. She gasped and moaned as his hard bulb popped into her. She stretched and bent her back. Her fingers clawed as his length reamed up her.
Her little wet tongue lolled out of her red lips and she sighed as Bear’s thighs slapped against her upturned ass. He pounded into her until she collapsed into Ryder’s lap. She moaned, flexed, and shouted helplessly as she came over and over.
Out the corner of his eye, Ryder watched Haughey. Haughey took tiny sips of his whiskey with long gaps between them. He let the girls crawl over his lap, but his attention was never on them. He was watching Ryder and Bear.
When the girl on Bear’s dick was done, he grabbed the next girl to make her come with her face in front of Ryder’s nose. Ryder smiled and said, “Okay, bro. That was enough. Get your jollies and fire off down this sweet girl’s throat. Then let’s get our business done.”
When he was done and the girl
gurgled happily with sticky dribble over her face, Ryder beckoned Haughey over.
“A’ight, Haughey, we’ll take the run, and I’ll head it up. There’s terms and conditions, though. I’ll set the place. Click to confirm that you have read and agree to all of the terms and conditions.”
“Well… we’ll need some time to get set up…”
“I’ll call, I’ll tell you where, and I’ll give you an hour. That’s exactly how long you’ll have to get your circus there. Are we on?”
Chapter 11
Ryder and Bear rode two miles down the straight road back from Red Skulls’ clubhouse before Ryder stopped and looked about him. Bear stopped up ahead and turned back to where Ryder was.
This was some bleak and desolate terrain. Reddish brown rocks and dirt, spiky, bare spines of shrubs and blue-gray ridges shimmered together in a dull haze all the way to the horizon.
Sound didn’t travel, it just fell at your boots.
He turned and looked back up the road to see that there wasn’t anyone following. You want any covert surveillance out here, you’d need a lizard to do it for you. Anything more than a foot high, you’d spot it coming from a mile away.
Damn place gave him the creeps. He got out his cellphone. No signal, of course. He pulled out a spliff, thinking about what he was going to tell John Reader back at the Blades’ clubhouse.
He and Bear turned off their engines. Bear waited for him to speak.
Haughey had welcomed Ryder and Bear into the Red Skulls clubhouse like they were visiting royalty. He offered dope, whiskey and the Skulls’ finest pieces of tail, when it was the Skulls who were offering the big prize, and the Blades were getting the bargain. Why was he sweetening the deal? It made no sense.
Ryder thought it over. He said, “Haughey didn’t ask any of the right questions, Bear. He didn’t ask why I was there, or even why John Reader wasn’t there. Most telling, he didn’t say anything about the money.”
“Yeah, I was ready for some hard bargaining.”
They looked at each other and looked back up the road.
Bear said, “You know it, bro. There is some truly devious shit going down here.”
Chapter 12
Jess spent more and more of her evenings at the club. Bear teased her when she arrived. “You ain’t a member and you ain’t a pass-around. What you still doing here?” Either that or he would call her ‘Ryder’s tail,’ partly hinting that she followed Ryder around, partly a suggestion about their relationship.
Gyro greeted her when she arrived, and other club members knew her name. As Ryder had promised, she enjoyed some status from the protection of being ‘with’ Ryder, officially at least. She was treated with respect by the men and mostly by the women as well.
Jess felt as though she was getting along with everyone, except for Mary Ann. They instinctively avoided each other like Kryptonite. Jess saw Mary Ann in brief little intimate huddles with a lot of the regular bikers, but especially with Bear and with Ryder. When she saw Mary Ann whisper to Ryder, or flash her eyes across the room at him, it always made Jess’ blood pump hard.
There was no outward sign of anything more going on, but the way she leaned close, spoke softly and body blocked every man she spoke to, it always looked as though she had some special something with every one of them.
Everyone knew, or at least probably knew, that Jess wasn’t Ryder’s ol’ lady in the usual sense, but when Ryder said, ‘she’s with me,’ that was enough. At least it was for a time.
Her unofficial status, not quite one thing or the other, was enough for Jess feel to feel comfortable and safe. That was how she’d lived most of her life, practically.
The men of this club with their rigid codes and rules made a space for her, an exception that was for her alone, that made Jess feel as though she really belonged in a way she hadn’t felt before.
They had chosen to let her in and, to a degree, had let her in on her terms. This was the first place Jess had ever felt that she was accepted.
She began to feel that this was a place where she was truly be at home. It was a place that wouldn’t up and move, people that she wouldn’t have to lose, people she could risk having real attachments with.
Bear continued to bait her, but she felt a protective warmth beneath his jibes. Gyro always treated her like a lady, as all of the MC members did. The sense of community and of honor ran deep and was firm and dependable.
When a prospect was arrested, when a member had money trouble, the whole club was there for them. The club felt more like family to Jess than anything she had known before. These were the people she wanted to be with.
Ryder, the nomad, was a whole other story. Talking to Gyro, to Bear, even overhearing John Reader one night, Jess got a sense of affection and regard for Ryder, like he was an adopted member of the clan.
Chapter 13
Ryder watched from the bar as a biker no-one knew crossed the clubhouse floor to the bar. He looked just like a regular biker. Kit, he said his name was. No patch, but not everybody’s affiliated, it didn’t mean anything. He didn’t have the civilian too-clean look. He was authentic enough in that way.
His thick beard was well-trimmed and his face scrubbed. There was wear on the edges of his shirt cuffs and the sides of his regularly polished boots. A cop in fancy dress always looked scruffy and unkempt. Cops were clean, tidy men trying to look disheveled. Ryder figured this guy was a man trying to look his best when his circumstances wore him at the edges. In his late thirties, his ponytail and beard were clean and reddish. His biker jacket was scuffed, but he’d cleaned it up. His Harley outside was matte black and perfect.
He came up to the bar and stood between Ryder and Jess. Before the guy even crossed the floor, Ryder saw Jess put out her bottom lip, corners of her mouth down. Kit seemed okay to Ryder, and to Bear too. Jess looked hard into Ryder’s eyes and made a single, tiny shake of her head.
After a couple of beers, Kit got the talk around to a couple pounds of fresh Californian outdoor grown weed, primo quality. Bear looked over at Ryder. Something had sounded a little off in the way that Kit had brought it up.
Bear and Ryder were noncommittal and changed the subject. Soon Kit stepped out to the porch for a smoke. After a moment, Ryder followed him out.
“You’ve done dope deals before, right?”
“Sure, plenty.”
“But none like this one.”
The guy looked in Ryder’s eye and drew a long breath.
Ryder laid a hand on the guy’s shoulder and looked hard into his brown eyes. He saw conflict and discomfort. Kit was about to speak when Ryder gestured with his finger to his lip, then he pointed to his ear, traced a line like a wire down to his breast pocket.
Kit’s head shook slowly as his face fell and aged. He looked in Ryder’s eye and drew a long breath. Then he shook his head and said, “No, no wire. That was meant to happen next time. This visit was to set it up.”
Ryder leaned his elbows on the rail and looked down the road toward the far horizon. “I heard about a girl,” he said. “Regular girl, worked nine to five in an insurance office. Got caught up on some bullshit drugs rap. She was entrapped into buying a tiny little personal quantity of pot.”
He watched Kit as he went on. “Next thing she knew, she’s in a hard room and she’s looking across a metal table at the FBI.” Kit’s eyes shone. “The dark suits tell her, ‘Wear a wire, help us nail this scumbag drug dealing biker gang. We’ll make the charge go away. We’ll tell you what to do, and we’ll be watching you every step of the way.’”