by Lynn Burke
EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2018 Lynn Burke
ISBN: 978-1-77339-761-0
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
For the men who dedicate their lives to loving their women, baggage and all.
HAWK
Fallen Gliders MC, 2
Lynn Burke
Copyright © 2018
Hawk
I sat on a barstool waiting for my drink, toothpick between my teeth, my Fallen Gliders brothers’ voices and the bar’s din a buzz in my brain. Bikers and women meandered by the picture window I sat in front of, but no one of interest snagged my attention.
Sturgis drew all sorts—one percenters like us, motorcycle clubs, and rider clubs, but my favorite were the wild women looking for a cock to fill their cunt—or ass. At least, that’s what I used to enjoy about Sturgis.
Getting pussy had always come easy for me as a teenager, but the day I earned my colors and put the FG logo on my back, I no longer had to go looking for it. The club whores were always up for a hard fuck, but as the years passed, I’d grown bored with their fake-ass moans and gaping holes. Even Jonny, our president and my best friend waiting to down a whiskey beside me, agreed we needed new blood in the club.
We’d been in Sturgis for almost a week, and I hadn’t fucked a single woman. My outlook on life sucked the previous couple of months, to the point the thought of having my cock shoved down a willing throat or burying myself balls-deep in some random cunt didn’t even twitch my dick. I felt like a windblown leaf with no sense of purpose, no desire for sex or companionship. I’d taken to drinking harder stuff than my usual beer but knew the slump I floundered in wouldn’t end well unless I decided to pick my ass up and figure out my life.
Perhaps today’s the day, I told myself, picking up the shot of whiskey our waitress sat in front of me.
A flash of red-brown hair drew my gaze to the far left before I could pop out the toothpick and down my drink. A little butterfly with gray-green eyes flashing along with her wide smile. Dimple, full lips, high cheekbones—a fucking model in a tight tank and Daisy Dukes.
My cock thickened inside my leather pants, and my head turned as she slowly passed by the picture window, her face animated and lips moving as she chatted with her friends, the joyful gleam in her eyes snaring me tight. She radiated life, an exuberant, light step while I wallowed in my shit life.
Jealousy and yearning for what she experienced clenched my chest, and I found myself rubbing a hand over tattooed pecs I spent hours sculpting on a daily basis.
The little butterfly passed beyond the window, and I sat back, not realizing I’d leaned forward to keep her in sight.
“Finally see something worth fucking?” Jonny asked with an elbow to my ribs.
“Fuck, yeah. Reddish hair—not the dyed kind—and tits out to here,” I said around my toothpick, holding my hand out a few inches away from my chest. “Young and full of life.”
One of Jonny’s eyebrows rose. “What the fuck you sitting here for?”
I hesitated to glance around the group of men—fellow Fallen Gliders from across the States, discussing the lighter aspect of business. A large meeting had taken place the night before, the heads of the chapters sitting down to discuss the future of our club. Just more depressing shit to pile on life.
“Go on,” Jonny encouraged, elbowing me again.
I hopped off my stool and pushed my way through the crowd for the front door. At six-foot-five, I had no trouble seeing over most of the heads bobbing to my right as I stepped out onto the sidewalk.
The roar of mufflers and cranking music from Christ knew where filled my ears as I breathed in the scents of exhaust, sweat, and cheap perfume in the night air. I took a half-dozen steps to the right, scanning the crowd of people on the sidewalk in front of me before pulling up short. No fucking way I was going to find her unless I acted like an asshole and shoved people out of my way while hurrying the way she’d gone.
Curses flew from my lips while I turned back toward the bar. A voice in my head sang a country hit, reminding me that if we were meant to be, it’d be.
“No fucking luck?” Jonny asked as I slumped back onto the stool.
My scowl sufficed for an answer.
Tipping back my head for the whiskey burn didn’t help my shit mood. Neither did the bloody burger and pile of fries fifteen minutes later. Thoughts of the little butterfly warred with depression in my mind, and I called it an early night, leaving my brothers behind. The quietness of the hotel didn’t offer anything but a hot shower where I could blow the load that had been building in my balls for weeks.
At least I had a semi-purpose … find the vivacious little butterfly and steal some of her joy in life for myself.
For the next two days, the memory of the mystery woman’s eyes haunted me, causing my dick to stay in a perpetual state of stiffness. Jerking off only gained me an hour or two of relief, before the need for a real pussy swelled me to the point of pain again. My fucking balls ached with the need to explode into a tight cunt until my cum leaked out of the abused hole. It fucking sucked that the thought of anyone but the fluttering little butterfly didn’t do jack shit for me.
In those two days, I could have easily pounded into a handful of willing women, but I wanted more. I wanted the woman with life flashing in her eyes. I wanted those pert tits of hers wrapped around my cock as I shot my spunk up over her face.
Jonny and I along with a few others from our club rumbled into town mid-morning and found places to park. We’d seen all the bikes, clasped countless hands and shoulders, and taken in more than an eyeful of painted bodies with nothing more than tassels or stickers covering the owners’ nipples since arriving in Sturgis ten days earlier.
No fucking shame, those women.
I used to love it.
I climbed off my bike and led the way into the bar we’d agreed on for lunch. Since I considered myself Jonny’s secret service agent, my head swiveled as I took in the people around me, eyes and ears alert for any bullshit. As I’d reached the open door, I cast one last look down the sidewalk to my left.
The little butterfly and her two friends crossed the road, laughing with a lighthearted carelessness that clenched my chest again.
I pulled up short.
“The fuck?” Jonny cursed as he bumped into me.
“It’s her,” I muttered and lit out after the three, uncaring I left Jonny and my brothers behind. Within ten seconds, I lost sight of the butterfly and swore under my breath when I reached the sidewalk. I bumped and shoved through a handful of people, but same as two nights prior, I fucking lost her in the crowd.
Hands on hips and cursing under my breath while clenching a toothpick between my teeth, I stood alongside the street, scanning for a glimpse of red-brown waves.
Bikes rumbled by, and I recognized one of the blonde girls clinging to a biker’s back. Sure enough, the third bike carried my little butterfly. She, too, wrapped her arms around the biker’s waist.
Someone’s old lady, I told myself as they drew near, deflating my cock. Fuck. A one-percenter, The Silent Demons, our fucking rivals, I noted as the first
bike slowly passed by. I shifted my gaze back to the third bike as a slew of curses flew past my lips. Why them of all fucking people? Why not some random biker hitting Sturgis for the first time?
Butterfly’s gray-green gaze landed on me.
My breath caught, and I stared back, everything stilling around me, falling to a hush in my ears like in a fucking movie. I couldn’t have torn my gaze from her if I’d tried. An electrical current of awareness and fucking lust simmered the ten feet or so between us as the bike her thighs hugged slowly rolled past.
She turned her head, her gaze flitting down over me and back up as I stood, hands still on my hips, unmoving except for the throb in my cock. A smile lit her eyes, and she fluttered her fingers at me as the biker turned right, taking her away.
Janie
Every single hair on my body stood on end the second my gaze landed on the bearded badass alongside Sturgis’s main road. Hands on narrow hips, a scowl marring his lips, but those eyes. Hazel and bright, the man peered at me with an intensity that made me want to bend over, grab my ankles, and beg him to take what he wanted.
God.
I clenched my thighs together, wishing a vibrator buzzed between my legs rather than Cal’s Harley I straddled behind him.
I turned my head, keeping the leather-wearing hottie in sight as long as I could. A Fallen Glider, according to the “67” tattooed on his neck. A member of the one club that hanging with would lead to all sorts of trouble.
Unable to give a shit about boundaries in my manic state, I fluttered my fingers at him seconds before Cal turned, taking the fine piece of eye candy from view.
Lower lip between my teeth, I contemplated the hottie biker all the way back to our hotel, every cell of my body on fire and wanting to take flight. Countless bikes passed us in the hot sun beating down on South Dakota, the dry air chapping my face. Closing my eyes brought the man’s face vividly to my mind. Strong nose and cut cheekbones. But those eyes! I wanted him like I hadn’t wanted a man in a long damn time.
Tall, broad shoulders, tight leather pants with a bulge worthy of drool—and an ass clench at the thought of him burying his thickness deep inside.
Damn.
Soaked panties, no vibrator at the hotel, and a shared room with my two best friends…
My body tingled with the need for a good, hard fuck with the Fallen Glider my mind had become obsessed over with one eyeful.
Tasha and Lori hopped off the back of the bikes Cal and I had followed, and soon I stood beside them, waving as the three bikers drove off. They were our rides while enjoying our first time at Sturgis Motorcycle Rally.
“I need a nap,” Tasha said and yawned.
“You need to tuck those tits away before your dad sees,” Lori said with a snicker while pointing to Tasha’s doubleD’s spilling from her bikini top.
Tasha stuck out her tongue and slid the triangle of material back over the nipple that had escaped.
“You okay, Janie?”
I blinked at Lori and rubbed sweaty palms on my jean shorts, trying to slow the thoughts flitting through my brain. “Did you see that biker as we left? Tall, dark hair, full beard?”
Lori’s brow rose. “There are thousands of bikers here. How the hell—”
“Hazel eyes intense enough to flutter a girl’s heart?” I added. “Toothpick between his teeth. Bulge that would soak any woman’s panties? Well, almost every woman.” Images of him flashed behind my eyelids as I blinked.
“Wanna go back and find him?” Tasha asked before I could spout off more praise, still checking to make sure her tits were covered. “See if he’s up for a little three-on-one action?”
Her lopsided smirk as she glanced up through her long, dark lashes pissed me the hell off. If I found Hottie again, I wasn’t interested in sharing that was for fucking sure. And, with him being a Fallen Glider…
“Nah.” I shook my head and faked a yawn while starting toward the hotel’s entrance, my steps quick. “Too much beer last night.”
“Shit,” Lori muttered, “you’re not kidding. My head is still pounding.”
“Wait up,” Tasha said from behind me. “When you’re on a high, you never feel hungover. Ever. If anything, you’re even more of a raving lunatic.”
“Shut it, bitch.” I elbowed her as she drew alongside me, even though I knew she wasn’t making fun of my illness.
“Normal would have been better, but I’m glad you’re flying right now, Janie,” Tasha hugged me with one arm as we stepped into the air-conditioned hotel lobby. “Otherwise, Sturgis would suck ass.”
“Would have been a total waste,” I agreed, thinking of how much I struggled to even open my eyelids during one of my depressive episodes.
“At least our dads finally agreed to let us come out here,” Lori said while pushing the button for the third floor. “We’ve been begging for what? Five years? I love ya and all, Janie, but I’d have left your ass at home if you’d been in one of your shitty moods.”
“Fucking twenty-three,” Tasha said, ignoring Lori’s declaration, “and our dads finally admitted that we’re women, no longer little girls that need constant care and protection.”
“Maybe they’ll actually let us start dating,” I muttered with a frown, my mind on the hazel-eyed hottie with the big package between his powerful-looking thighs. Little did our dads know that all three of us had snuck out countless times since turning eighteen, hitting every dance club we could weasel our way into—all because of my need for excitement and my girls’ desire to help me deal.
“My dad says I’m not allowed to date until I’m thirty,” Tasha said, flicking her long, bleached-blonde hair over her sunburned shoulder.
“My dad still thinks he can choose my husband for me,” Lori said, followed by a snort.
I’d never found someone interesting enough—or enticing enough looks-wise—to tempt me. Sure, I’d given up my cherry, just like my friends, to men we didn’t really care about. We’d all just wanted to lose our virginities on the same night. Since then, I’d had dozens of hookups that satisfied my lust while on a high, but always left me hoping for something more in the back of my mind.
Thank God our dads didn’t know.
My body continued to buzz, my mind flitting from one thing to another as Tasha and Lori collapsed on the beds to rest. Since a manic episode had wrapped me up in its clutches for the previous couple of days, I’d brought along things to Sturgis to keep my brain occupied while normal people rested.
I booted up my laptop and, rather than work on the website I’d promised to have designed for one of my author friends before the following week, dove into the novel I’d been slaving over for two years. The words flowed, the romance taking a decidedly erotic tilt as Hottie’s face continued to flit through my memory. The words kept coming from the voices in my head, telling me how awesome their story was, how I was the only one who would tell it—and do it justice.
I kicked ass—even though I knew once the cycle turned, I’d hate everything about the story’s evolving into heat and angst. One extremely hot scene later and grinning ear-to-ear, I put the novel aside and pulled up my photo editing software, my knee bouncing non-stop under the small table I sat at.
A quick download from my phone, and I scrolled through my pics from Sturgis. A half-hour later, I’d edited a few dozen and created two collages to post on social media.
“The fuck you doing?” Tasha asked from the bed behind me.
“Working on my book and photos.”
She grunted, and I listened as she pattered to the bathroom.
“How ya feeling?” Lori asked, her blankets rustling behind me.
“Awesome.” As though I’d downed countless shots of espresso, my body continued to buzz. “Wait’ll you see these pictures … and the sex scene I added to my book.” Grinning, I turned around and spilled all of the awesomeness I’d accomplished while my friends had slept.
****
Once the sun set, we had our babysitters take us ba
ck into town so we could grab a late dinner. As usual, I had no appetite but forced down a small salad with grilled steak. My gaze scanned non-stop, every corner, every person, every bike that passed us as we made our way down the street after eating.
Tasha muttered a few times about my energy level as I bounced ahead of them, but I ignored her, my strides leading my arm-in-arm friends ambling behind me.
I caught a glimpse of hair shaved on the sides, longer on top … a taller-than-most man a few yards ahead of us. A rush of adrenaline flooded my system, and I hurried my steps, a smile stretching my lips.
“Wanna slow the fuck down?” Tasha called after me, not for the first time, but I shoved through the people in front of me, desperate to get to him.
“You know she’s insatiable when she’s like this,” I barely heard Lori’s reply. “Janie!”
I ignored my friends and plowed onward toward the wide shoulders and tattooed neck, my body tingling and agile enough I felt I could vault into the air, summersault, and land a perfect “10” in front of him. I fucking needed him.
Like, now.
“Shit!” I pulled up short, realizing the man I’d been hell-bent on following had disappeared. “Shit!” Turning around to my left, my eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets as my gaze jumped from one person to another—rapid enough to hurt my head. An almost complete circle brought my stance angled toward the picture window of a bar.
The place was packed, music and loud voices spilling from the propped-open door.
“It’s wet t-shirt time!” someone with a microphone shouted from inside. Hoots and hollers quickly drowned him out.
Inner lip between my teeth, I craned my neck to scan the people inside.
There … on a stool at the bar … the hair, the shoulders. He turned his head toward his left and spoke around a toothpick to the man beside him.
Hottie.
All the blood in my body rushed down between my thighs, and I clenched my pussy muscles tight.
I glanced over my shoulder but couldn’t see my friends.
“Fuck it,” I said, my voice and legs shaking, my heart thumping. I grabbed my cell from my back pocket and shot off a text to Tasha: I found him. Don’t wait up for me.