Made to Riot_A Motorcycle Club Romance_The Ancestors MC

by Nicole Fox

  “Okay,” he said. “Time you really get you out of here.”

  My heart sank. I wanted to plead, to whine, to say anything to get him to change his mind. Instead, he took me by the arm and led me out of the bar. Stepping into the cool night air, the music and the sounds of the fight lessened to a muffled roar.

  “Which one’s you?” he said, looking out into the parking lot.

  I pointed a finger to my car, a sporty little red sedan. The man scoffed again, which only served to make me feel worse, as I was still reeling from his rejection after throwing myself at him like a stupid college girl going after the football team captain. But I couldn’t help it; there was something about this man that made me feel like I needed him.

  Just like working through a fever, I thought, trying to justify my behavior. I just want him once, just to get it out of my system.

  We walked to the car, the gravel crunching under my feet. Soon, we arrived. I stood next to the car, looking up at the man, as if awaiting orders. He stared down at me from his towering height, looking at me as though he were trying to figure something out that he couldn’t understand.

  Then, before I could say a word, the man grabbed my hips, pulled me close, and kissed me hard. I sank into his kiss right away as his body pressed against mine. I stood stunned, shocked that he’d decided that he wanted me after all. We kissed hard for a time, my lips parting, allowing his tongue to slip into my mouth. I took him in with all my senses; my hands ran over the sculpted muscles of his arms; I tasted the bitter tang of whiskey on his breath; and I inhaled his raw, musky scent of beer and motor oil.

  I couldn’t get enough.

  “This is a bad idea,” I said, breaking away for a moment.

  “Yeah, well, it’s your bad idea,” he said.

  Got me there.

  Fumbling behind me, I popped open the back passenger-side door. The man got the hint, pushing me into the car and laying me on the seat. He pulled the door shut behind him, the car now silent aside from the sounds of his lips on mine and the deep draws of breath we took in through our noses.

  I didn’t waste any time; I wanted him right then and there. I slid my hands under his white undershirt, running my fingertips over his bare, sculpted body before pulling the shirt off. He did the same, quickly undoing the buttons of my blouse and pulling it over my shoulders. Then, with another deft motion, he undid the buttons of my jeans and pulled them down, leaving me in nothing but a simple black bra and a pair of white cotton panties with a floral print. He looked over my body with an expression of pure hunger, and knowing that I was able to inspire that reaction in him was enough to turn me on even more.

  I fumbled with his pants, unable to take his off with the same ease he’d had with mine. His mouth twisted into a smirk.

  “Someone’s eager,” he said.

  “I … I just need it right now,” I said, the words almost sounding as though they were coming from someone other than me; I couldn’t believe the need that had taken me over.

  He reached down, undoing his jeans and pulling them, along with the black boxer-briefs that he was wearing, to his thighs.

  I gasped when I saw his prick. It was huge—thick and long, easily the biggest that I’d seen in person. As my eyes moved up and down the length of it I wondered if it was even going to be able to fit inside of me. But before I could wonder for too long, he withdrew a condom, wrapped it down the length, and shoved his prick into me.

  The feeling of him entering me was more intense than anything I could’ve imagined. He moved into me slowly, as if knowing that a cock of his size was going to be a little much for most women. And as he did, I took in the sensation of every inch of his thick manhood entering me slowly, filling me completely. My fears that he wouldn’t fit were quickly put aside; I was so goddamn wet that he was able to enter me with ease.

  I couldn’t remember the last time a man had turned me on this much.

  Placing my hands on the hard contours of his ass, I guided him into me, imploring him with me eyes and hands to fuck me hard, to drive into me over and over.

  He was more than happy to comply.

  Looking down at me with that same expression of animal hunger, he began to fuck me hard, moving in and out of me, the feeling of his hips crashing into me more divine than anything I could imagine. I grabbed onto his ass hard, directing him, pressing him into me, my face wincing into a tight expression of pleasurable agony as my pussy acclimated to his enormous size.

  I needed it; I needed that cock in me more than I’d ever needed anything. Soon, as he bucked into me harder and harder, the car rocking on its wheels, I found myself losing the ability to form coherent thoughts; my mind couldn’t think of anything but the pleasure that had taken hold of me, to do with me whatever it would.

  The man spread his arms, his thick, ropy limbs spanned out over me as he took hold of the seats. I felt small under him, as though I might lose myself in his body in the most wonderful manner possible. His body braced, he began pounding me harder and harder still, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

  Soon, as his fucking moved into a steady, powerful rhythm, an orgasm began to well deep in my body. I knew that it would soon break loose, taking me hold and carrying me off in a wave of ecstasy.

  And I wanted nothing more.

  The man grunted as he bucked into me, and I opened my eyes just enough to see that his expression was one of tight concentration, his beautiful features intense. I moved my hands to his sides, taking in the sweet feeling of his hard middle against my skin.

  Then, as if a surprise, my orgasm came, my body tightening in pleasure as I moaned hard. The pleasure shot through my limbs, the feelings more intense than anything I could’ve imagined. I came hard, so hard, harder than I’d ever cum before. The man came soon after, emptying himself into me with a series of steady, deep thrusts, each punctuated by a husky grunt.

  Soon, our orgasms faded, and his rhythm slowed to a halt. Spent, he collapsed onto me and rolled to my side. We spent some time regaining our breath, taking in the afterglow of the incredible lovemaking.

  Eventually, he broke the silence.

  “Can’t imagine why a girl like you is out this late; don’t you have a knitting party or something in the morning?”

  I laughed, both at the joke and at the audacity that he had in saying something like that right after we’d had sex.

  “No,” I said, feeling more at ease now we’d … addressed the sexual tension. “I’m a nurse; I’ve got weird hours.”

  “A nurse, huh?” he said, pulling up his pants. “You’re even more of a goody-good than I thought.”

  I smirked. “A good-goody?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Like I said, this ain’t your kind of place. And I didn’t think I was your kind of guy.”

  “Who says you are?” I asked, finally able to throw some attitude back his way.

  “Well, I’m good enough for a quick fuck in the parking lot of a roadhouse.”

  He had me there.

  “This was … I don’t know what it was.”

  “An itch to scratch,” he said, slipping back into his shirt. “Trust me—I know the type.

  “Oh?” I said, wondering just how many girls like me he’d fucked like this.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Best thing for your is to get back to your regularly-scheduled programming and keep tonight as a crazy story to share with your girlfriends over cosmos.”

  Just what kind of girl does he think I am? I wondered, feeling a little indignant. Does he think he’s just got me pegged?

  But before I could manage a retort, he was dressed and halfway out the door.

  “Trust me,” he said. “You don’t want to end up like those jackasses in there. Get back to nurse-world as fast as possible.”

  He popped open the door and prepared to get out. I was stunned that he’d leave so soon. I wasn’t expecting him to stay and tell me his life story, but …

  “Wait,” I shot out. “Can I at least get
a name?”

  He turned back to me, a half-smile on his gorgeous lips.

  “Bryce,” he said.

  “Anya,” I responded, my voice a whisper.

  “Well, nice meeting you, Anya,” he said. “I hope, for your sake, that we never see each other again.”

  He then stepped out of the car, shut the door, and was off.

  Just like that, I was alone once again.

  Chapter Four

  Bryce

  Racing down the highway, the wind in my hair, my bike roaring like a beast, I couldn’t help but find myself thinking about the girl last night. The road was empty, and other than the full moon hanging in the sky like a silver coin in the inky black and the twinkling scattering of stars around it, I was alone.

  Just how I liked it.

  But that girl, that blonde little thing—Anya, was that her name?—kept popping into my thoughts like an invader. With the night ahead of me that I had, I didn’t have the luxury of thinking about some quick fuck in a parking lot. Though, as much as I didn’t want to admit it, there had been something more to it than that. What, exactly, it was, I couldn’t say.

  Pulling the bike into a slow curve on the highway, I tried to focus myself on the job ahead. Some punk, some little wiry shithead named Spider—some kind not too different than the barely-drinking-age jackasses fighting at the bar last night—who was moving into our turf near some town called Adeline. My job was to track him down and give him a quick roughing up. Nothing too serious, but something to teach him to respect the club that had staked out that turf years ago.

  Sure, the job was a little beneath me now that I was a full-fledged member, but I was eager to show that I didn’t think I didn’t have to worry about the grunt work that kept the club in working order. Not to mention getting away from the politics that was going on in the Ancestors right now sounded pretty good. And so did going for a long, quiet ride.

  My thoughts snapped back to Anya. Goddamn, she was a looker. I knew that I just needed to give her the fuck she was looking for, the little taste of a rough shitkicker like me that all girls like her seemed to be craving. And now that she had had her fun, she could go back to her nursing gig and nights of Netflix and takeout food, maybe a glass of red wine if she was feeling dangerous. But I kept thinking about her, thinking about the way her body looked under my own, the way her features tightened as she moaned, how she bit her lip when I finally made her cum …

  Jesus! I thought, increasing the speed of my bike, the engine roaring. So much for getting it out of my system.

  A green sign illuminated by my headlights passed on my right informing me that Adeline was only a few miles away. A truck passed going the opposite direction, the first car that I’d seen in a long while.

  Must not be a lot going on in this Podunk, I thought.

  Though, to be fair, quiet was usually my kind of thing. Our club was near Atlanta, and being in close proximity to all of the crime that happened in a place like that was enough to keep the club on our toes nearly every goddamn hour of the day. I thought about maybe grabbing a hotel after the job was done, maybe relaxing for a day or two.

  Then I came to my senses and shook my head at the thought. Hanging around in a town after putting the hurt on one of the local dealers? Might as well have them beat the shit out of me tonight and get it over with.

  Anya crept into my thoughts again and I pushed her out, thinking about the shit going on with Donny Court, the MC tough guy that’d been pissed about my pops moving me up the gang, again. I didn’t have any proof, nothing other than my gut instinct, but I just knew that he was going to be a problem. Didn’t matter if it was an MC or the goddamn US Senate, the cloak-and- shit never ends. But I knew that the best I could do was keep my head up, do the jobs that came to me, and have one eye on him.

  Adeline came up, the scattering of lights appearing on the horizon letting me know that I’d arrived. I banked the bike, turning off of the highway and slowing my speed as I exited via the turn-off. Soon, I was on the town’s main street, surrounded on both sides by the kind of old-timey small-town quaint shit that I thought had disappeared decades ago. There was a drugstore, a mechanic, and all sorts of boutique shops that had been long closed for the night. A medium-sized hospital was the biggest building around, the boxy shape of the building lit up with bright white lights.

  Down the road was Rooster’s, the bar that Spider evidently frequented. He didn’t know who I was, or what I looked like even if he did, so the plan was to head in, grab a drink, and set up a deal. Once we were alone, I’d put a good hurt on him, making it clear as goddamn day that the Ancestors didn’t take too kindly to little shitheads like him moving in on our turf.

  That should send the right message. Loud and clear. Any luck I’d be on my way back in a couple of hours.

  I pulled into the parking lot at Rooster’s, a massive purple and green neon sign in the shape of—you guessed it—a rooster, making the place easy to find. It seemed like a rowdy joint, though not as out of control as the place last night, the bar where I’d met Anya …

  Cut it the fuck out! I thought to myself. Head in the fuckin’ game.

  Killing the engine to the bike, I headed in. Some of the rougher guys out front smoking cigarettes looked me over as I entered, likely trying to figure out what club I rode with. I’d left my kutte at home, not wanting to have anything on me that would identify me as an Ancestor. But with my tats, not to mention the way I carried myself, it was pretty goddamn obvious that I rode. Hopefully, I’d be out before they started asking too many questions and gave away the game.

  I strolled into the bar, which was a dimly-lit little dive packed full of the type of hard-drinking shithead that this town probably wished they were rid of. Motorhead was playing on the speakers, and the clacking of pool balls cut through the air. Bellying up to the bar and ordering my usual whiskey, I started scanning the place for my target.

  And it didn’t take long at all.

  “Yeah, yeah, my dude—I got that shit you’re looking for.”

  The voice was a thin, nasally tone—the exact kind of voice you’d expect from a scrawny punk—ass kid trying to sound tough. I took a sip of my whiskey, glancing out of the corner of my eye at the kid I suspected to be Spider.

  “For you, my man? I cut you a good-ass deal.”

  Doing a deal in the open like that? I thought, shaking my head as I lolled the whiskey around my mouth. Either he’s stupider than I thought, or he’s got enough power around here that he knows he can get away with it.

  My glance shot to the bartender, who rolled his eyes at Spider. That answered that.

  I watched as Spider slapped something into the hand of the man he was talking to, the man slipping a tightly-folded bill into Spider’s. It was a—deal right out in the open.

  “Hey,” I said, gesturing to the bartender. “This kid holding?”

  The bartender nodded, as if the mere mention of Spider was enough to annoy him.

  “Why?” he asked. “You looking to buy?”

  I gave a quick nod, and the bartender went off to get Spider’s attention once the deal was done. Seconds later, I felt a slap on my shoulder. I turned around and was presented with Spider in all his skinny-armed, pale-skinned glory.

  “’Sup, big man?” he said, moving his body in places, rubbing one hand against the other, basically doing a white boy impression of a hard thug. “I hear you lookin’ to buy.”

  I looked over the kid, noting the oversized basketball jersey hanging off of his skinny frame.

  “Depends on what you got.”

  “Shit, man—I got it all. Name it and your boy Spider’ll get you taken care of real nice.”

  I looked around, putting on a show of my own.

  “I’m looking for some … real hard shit.”

  I flicked my gaze down, drawing his attention down to my lap, where I had the fingers of my right hand in the shape of a gun.

  “Aww, damn,” said the kid, nodding and rubbing
his hands together. “The real shit.”

  Spider looked around before nodding towards the back door.

  “Come with me, my dude; I’ll show you what I got.”

  I tossed back the rest of my whiskey and followed the kid out. It was a pretty good bet figuring that he had guns. And I knew if he did, he’d have to take me out back to show them to me. Once we were away from the crowd I’d give him the ass-beating that I’d come to dispense, then I’d be on my way. Easy as pie.

  Spider pushed the door open and I followed him out into the alley behind the bar.

  “Right this way, my dude,” he said, gesturing with a nod of his head.