When his cum flooded her, it felt like an otherworldly experience. Delilah's pussy worked to milk his member for every drop it could muster. It contracted and squeezed, as the seminal jets gradually weakened into dribbles. Her cervix moved rhythmically, too. It gently kissed the tip of Micah's penis and dipped into the massive of pool of semen. Still drunk on the climactic high, Delilah made little movements with her hips and teased Micah's gradually deflating cock.
As Micah's ejaculations died down, the couple stayed locked in their mutually lust-filled embrace. They panted, as they glided down together from their shared ecstasy. Beads of sweat ran down their naked bodies. Eventually, Delilah leaned forward and planted her mouth on Micah's neck. She gently dug her teeth into his flesh. Then, she closed her lips over his skin and sucked hard.
Micah barely flinched as his lover marked him with a hickey. He returned the kiss and ran his hands along the delicious curves of her body. She snuggled back against him and unlocked her legs from behind his lower back. As she did so, she lowered her feet to the ground.
Micah was still plugged firmly inside of her. He lifted her back up into the air and carried her to the bed. He pulled back the covers with one hand and gently laid her down on the mattress with his cock still embedded inside her.
Delilah twisted her body around and encouraged Micah to roll onto his back. Now that she was sprawled on top of his enormous chest, she reached down and pulled the covers back over the two of them. She embraced his torso and snuggled into it.
They hadn't even turned on the light to have sex. The moon provided the only source of light for the room. Delilah was exhausted, but she still wasn't tired enough to go straight to sleep. She lay atop her mysterious lover and the cogs turned in her head. As the last vestiges of pleasure faded away, she began to doubt the wisdom of what she'd just done with him. She knew next to nothing about the man to whom she'd given it all up. Now that she satisfied his urges, he would probably disappear in the morning and never return.
More importantly, what if she got pregnant as a result of this tryst? Small towns in the Deep South were pretty conservative. Even Bill would be more than a little taken aback at the sight of her with a big, round belly. She'd be the talk of the town before long and not in a good way. Everyone would wonder and ask her how she'd gotten pregnant without walking down the aisle first. Who was the father? When was he coming back? Had she really had a baby after a one-night stand?
One way or another, it would be the end of her singing career before it even started. She'd wanted to become a country singing star for years. All of that could be ruined, along with her reputation, by what she'd just done. The mental cogs of worry continued to turn inside Delilah's head until the man in question spoke.
"That was fun," Micah murmured to her.
"That was an understatement," Delilah replied and the two of them laughed.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Micah said back to her. He was clearly pleased with himself.
"I'm surprised you care," Delilah answered. "I thought bad boy bikers didn't care if the girl enjoyed being ruined, as long as they could get laid."
"I'm of a higher standard than the bikers you've met before," Micah replied.
"Obviously. Otherwise, I wouldn't have slept with you."
A short spell of silence passed as the couple lay in each other’s arms. They didn’t even bother to shut the curtains to keep out the moonlight. Delilah continued to lie awake. She idly traced little shapes with her finger on Micah's chest and contemplated what the future might hold.
"You're going to leave in the morning, aren't you?" Delilah said, mournfully.
"I have to," Micah admitted to her. "The Club's expecting me back tomorrow afternoon, so I've got to leave first thing in the morning."
"The VP's duties never end, do they?" Delilah murmured.
"How do you know I'm the Vice President?" Micah asked, puzzled.
"It's on your jacket," Delilah pointed out. "Micah Harris, Vice President of the Blood Brothers Motorcycle Club."
"So you've heard about us?" Micah asked.
"No, I haven't," Delilah answered, calmed by the conversation. "You must be from out-of-state because I've seen all the biker clubs' insignias in my time. Road Raggers, Honey Badgers, Hell Haunters, Sons of Blood, there's even a gang who call themselves the Sons of Anarchy."
"Sons of Anarchy?" Micah asked with a laugh. "You mean like in the TV series?"
"No joke, honey," Delilah replied. She giggled at the absurdity of it. "There is a motorcycle club who decided to name themselves after the club in the TV series."
"Fucking amateurs," Micah said, as he snorted derisively.
Another spell of silence descended on them as they lay together. Micah held Delilah in his arms. He stroked her golden hair and wondered if he might be able to make up an excuse to see her again. She was beautiful and she gave him, by far, the best sex he'd had in a long time.
"I want to come see you again," Micah said casually. Shocked at his own admission, he bit his tongue. He had accidentally blurted out a commitment he'd only idly considered.
"You do?" Delilah asked. She looked up at him with a mixed look of surprise and hope.
"Yes, I do," Micah said more firmly. "The minute I saw you on that stage, I knew I had to have you. So, I approached you after the gig and here we are."
"That was so stupid of me," Delilah said despondently. "I can’t believe I thought a big music company rep would come down to some tiny redneck town in the middle of nowhere to hear one bargirl sing."
"Don't be so hard on yourself," Micah said, trying to be supportive.
"Ever since I discovered I could sing, I've wanted to become a country singing star," Delilah said, as she poured her heart out. "I've tried and failed to get the attention of the people who can make that dream come true. That's why I downed four shots in fifteen minutes before letting a guy I've never met before come home with me and fuck me senseless. I mean, don't get me wrong, you were amazing, but you probably think I'm just a small town whore."
"No, I don't," Micah categorically replied. "As long as you keep pursuing your dreams, they'll eventually come true."
Delilah stayed silent for a moment. She turned his words over in her head.
"That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me," she murmured with a smile.
"And that's the sweetest this bad boy biker ever gets," Micah replied. Then, he reached over and closed the bedroom curtain.
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Free Riders
Ellen Graves
I drew back hesitantly at the volume of the music pounding through the big oak door, then quickly reprimanded myself. No Sabrina, you can’t quit now. Grow a pair and walk in. I took a deep breath and smoothed down my leather jacket, regretting my last-minute purchase of a form-fitting dress as I pulled up on my neckline without letting my hemline creep up.
“Coming in, Sugar?” The bulked-up bouncer smiled at me. The tattoo wrapped around his right forearm marked him as a member of the Asphalt Knights.
My friend pushed me from behind as she whispered in my ear. “You wanted to live on the edge, Sab,” she reminded me. She was right. It was time for me to shed my good girl image and get my nose out of my books. I took a step forward.
“You ladies got invitations?” The bouncer asked.
My friend stepped in front of me and reached into her purse for our invites, handing them over without a trace of fear.
The bouncer looked over the shiny pieces of paper. “Melina Samuels and Sabrina Wilkens. IDs?” He winked at me when I held out my driver’s license with a trembling hand. He glanced at our IDs before handing them back and stepping aside to open the door.
“Welcome, ladies.”
I swallowed loudly and walked through the door. The wall of noise and the smell of motor oil and cigarette smoke washed over me as I took in the scene with a sigh o
f relief. This didn’t look like anything too out-of-control. I’d expected everyone to be carrying guns and making drug deals and a huge fight to break out without provocation. Instead, a group of men were standing around some motorcycles talking shop and a couple of pool games were going on in a corner.
I turned to share my observations with my friend, only to find that she had disappeared in the crowd. Drumming up some false bravado, I approached the bar and ordered my first rum and coke of the night. I laughed as the bartender flirted outrageously with me, not used to the male attention I was getting. I was pulled onto the dance floor numerous times by multiple men until I begged off, citing a need to visit the bathroom. The bartender waved me to the back of the building, saying the bathroom was on the right-hand side.
I wobbled away, abruptly aware of my lightweight status. I walked to the back of the room looking for a sign indicating the washroom. As I reached for the knob, a large hand gripped my wrist, making me jump.
“I don’t think you’re ready for what’s behind that door, doll,” a deep voice said from above me. I looked up, way up, and stared into the face of a giant. The heat emanating from his body filtered through my leather jacket and thin dress, making me wish I was wearing more clothing.
“I was… looking for a washroom,” I stuttered.
With his hand still gripping my wrist, the other arm snaked around my mid-section, pulling me closer against his body. “That’s not the washroom.”
“What’s behind that door?”
“Those are rooms for people who want a little… privacy,” he replied, and I felt myself blush at the implication. He took a step back and released his hold around my stomach, but kept his grip on my wrist. “C’mon,” he said as he pulled me behind him along the back wall, leaving a space for me to travel in his wake, to enter through another door.
I assumed he was taking me to the bathroom, so I froze when we entered a quiet hallway. I looked around the hallway and noticed we were alone. My heart started thumping loudly as I realized I could be raped by the looming figure that held me captive.
He must have seen something in my expression, because he let go of my wrist and raised his hands. “Don’t worry Doll, I won’t hurt you.”
I took a step back as he came forward. The back of his hand ran down my arms, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. “I don’t need to force women to get them into my bed,” he whispered conspiratorially.
I barely heard his voice over the sound of my heart beating, so it took me a moment to react to his statement. I pushed on his chest, trying to create some space between our bodies, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. His hands left my arms and wrapped around my hips, holding me even closer. I watched him warily.
“Where are you taking me then?”
“To my bathroom.”
“Your… bathroom?”
He nodded. “I thought I’d be nice and let you use mine instead of waiting in line for the other one,” he answered coyly, “and if you feel like thanking me in some way… well, I wouldn’t say no.”
“I’m not going to kiss a stranger just so I can use a washroom,” I sputtered.
“Who said anything about kissing?” His smile widened. He tugged on my hips, pulling me off balance and causing me to wrap my hands around his massive arms to keep from faceplanting onto his chest.
“I thought you didn’t need to force your women,” I replied dryly.
He smirked. “I don’t.”
He lent down and brushed a kiss across my lips. Surprised, I let out a gasp, which he took as an invitation.
I whimpered as his sharp teeth grazed my lower lip and opened my mouth to his assault. With my compliance, his hands shifted from my hips to my nape and lower back , locking me in place as his tongue took possession.
My hands travelled up his arms, pushing up the sleeves of his t-shirt. My nails dug into his shoulders in response to a particularly sharp nip of his teeth on my lips, eliciting an earthy groan from him. Shifting his weight, he bent further down toward me, causing my erect nipples to rub against his broad chest.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, unwilling to give up the sensations shooting from my sensitive nipples to my sopping wet pussy as he lifted me up and pushed me back against the wall of the hallway. The forceful thrust of his hips and the relentless pressure of his pelvis against mine reminded me of my urgent need for a washroom.
I tore my mouth away from his, shaking my hair out of his fist. Undeterred, his mouth rooted under the cover of my leather jacket and latched onto the top of my breast, leaving wet marks behind. I slapped at his shoulders, pulling him out of his lustful haze. When he finally brought his eyes up to mine I gasped, “Bathroom.”
Panting, he slowly put me back down and took a hold of my wrist again, this time rubbing his thumb back and forth across the inside of my wrist as we walked down the hall. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to calm down my heart rate or speed it up, but whatever he was doing, I was hooked. Pulling me into a small office, he pointed to the en-suite and took a seat on the couch, apparently prepared to wait until I was done.
I hurried into the bathroom and quickly did my business. Looking at myself in the mirror as I washed my hands, I didn’t recognize the seductress that stood in front of me. My lips were red and swollen and my hair had come out of my carefully designed hairstyle, tumbling around my shoulders and giving me a softer look. My normally pale skin, which rarely sees sunlight due to the time I spend studying, finally had some color.
I was stunned by my bold behavior with a man I’d just met, and was embarrassed that I, for all intents and purposes, had my tongue down some stranger’s throat. Taking a quick look outside the door, I shyly cleared my throat and asked, “So, um, I didn’t quite catch your name.”
The corner of his lip curled into an amused smirk and he answered ,“James Avery.”
I took a slow step out of the bathroom. “Is this really your office?”
James sat back casually, the breadth of his body taking up most of the space on the couch. “Yes, I’m the Vice President of the club.”
“Oh… cool,” I said lamely. I chastised myself for my inept flirting. The copious amounts of liquid courage I’d consumed tonight had only allowed me to dance with random men and make out with a stranger. My verbal skills were still lacking.
With the speed of a striking cobra, James snagged me by the waist and pulled me into his lap. “And what’s your name, doll?”
“Sabrina,” I replied a little breathlessly.
“Sabrina…” he prompted.
I grinned slyly. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “So it’s like that, is it? Well, I have ways of making you talk.” His arms became vices around my waist and pinned my arms as he peppered my face, neck, and exposed shoulders with kisses, bites, and licks. My initial giggles turned into moans and whimpers, my body becoming desperate for his touch.
I squirmed uncontrollably on his lap until I felt the thin material of my thong make contact with the bulge in his jeans, and I realized that the bottom of my dress was now bunched up around my waist, exposing my lower half to the open air. I froze, the good girl I’ve always been warring with the vixen I wanted to be tonight.
James paused at a spot just below my ear. I could feel his breath brush the base of my earlobe as he swore profusely. “What now?” he groaned.
“I… I’m not… It’s…” I stumbled over my words as my brain raced to make a decision. Did I want to break away from my boring, innocent life and fuck a man on a couch in the back of a motorcycle club, or should I scurry back to the dance floor, where I can hide in comfort and pretend that I’m a rebel?
“You’re not a virgin are you?” James asked, unable to hide his frustration and apparent aversion to associating with virgins.
“What? No,” I snorted. “I had a boyfriend in high school,” I said by way of explanation.
“Ooookay… then what’s the problem?” His fingers curl
ed around the back of my thong, pulling sharply and making me gasp in surprise as the fabric rubbed against my clit. Decision made.
“Nothing,” I said while I ran my fingers through his hair. I nibbled on his scruffy jaw in an attempt to distract him. He turned his head to capture my lips in a hot, wet kiss.
Runaway Ride: Alpha Bad Boy Biker and MC Romance Box Set Page 12