Biker Daddy

by Kara Kelley

  It was dark and still; even the night sounds had quieted. She wore her wedge sandals, his t-shirt, and white cotton panties, and as she flew through the forest led by him in just a pair of jeans and his sturdy black boots, she felt as if she were a giggling aroused wood nymph that had tempted the manliest of catches.

  He led her to the Norton, but she shook her head and pointed at the Harley. “That one.” She licked her lips. “The one you were riding when I first saw you pull up behind me.”

  His smile came fast and wide and his eyes sparked with both mischief and arousal.

  After he put her helmet on, buckled it, and warned her where to keep her legs so she didn’t get burned, he got on the bike and held it steady for her. Her middle throbbed as she slid forward on the leather seat and pressed herself against him. The warmth of his skin set her on fire. She clasped her arms around his hard middle and kissed his back.

  “Hang onto me tight, babe.”

  She planned to.

  Chapter Twelve

  Addi

  The wind rushed through her hair and against her bare skin. It felt amazing. She was free. Freer than she’d ever been. And pressed against a man she trusted, she was completely safe.

  They rode for half an hour before he pulled off the gravel road to a lookout spot and cut the engine. The rocky escarpment was dark except for the stars lighting the sky.

  Drew held the bike while she got off, then flipped the kickstand. As soon as he was off the bike and they had taken their helmets off, his hands found her face and drove into her hair. His kiss was hot and demanding. He released her hair with one hand and grabbed her ass to boost her up. She didn’t wait to be told to put her legs around him.

  “That’s… my… good… girl,” he huffed, between kissing and biting her lip. One arm banded under her bottom so the other could unbuckle, unzip, and shuck his jeans down.

  He’d gone commando. His hot thick cock poked her bottom until he set her down on his bike seat. Pulling the shirt up and off her arms, he sucked her nipples, while tearing her panties until they were just bands of cotton in his hands.

  The cool air on her nipples and the risqué way she was exposed to the world made her pussy pulse harder.

  He climbed on and pulled her to him, grabbing her hair to hold her head so he could access her neck. He bit first, then ran the flat of his tongue along it and sucked, making her belly quiver.

  “Lean back, babe. I got you,” he said with a deeper than usual rasp to his voice. She leaned back on her hands, holding the seat, and he grabbed her ass to pull her closer as he bent to take a tightly beaded nipple into his mouth.

  “Ah, that’s… ooh…” He stopped to wet his finger and thumb with his tongue so he could roll her other nipple between them. He went back to his suckling and she called out when he sucked so deep she felt the tug right to her clit.

  She released the seat and shoved her hands through his hair, tugging, and he bit down hard enough to make her cry out into the darkness.

  “Hands on the seat, babe. Daddy’s in charge out here, too.” He took her mouth when she opened it to complain, first sucking away her words and then making her forget what they were.

  Drew slid off the back of the bike and yanked her ass closer to the edge of the seat. His mouth nibbled down her rounded tummy, but because she was holding her breath in anticipation of his tongue heading for her pussy, she didn’t give it a second thought.

  When his mouth came down over her shaved mound and his tongue slid inside her slit, she threw her head back. He wasn’t teasing her this time. This time, he sucked, nibbled, and flicked her up the crest of the hill, and in minutes she howled his name with an explosive orgasm. And when she sat forward on his bike, she slid on the wet leather beneath her. She’d soaked it.

  Her breathing was labored and she felt almost dizzy with the waves of pleasure that pulsed on.

  “Come ‘ere, babe.” He climbed back on, grabbed her ass, and lifted her until she was impaling herself slowly on his cock. “God, you’re fucking tight and wet. Baby, you’re so fucking hot. Come on, fuck me on this Harley.” He helped her move her hips up and down, his shaft thrusting deeper and deeper.

  “I wanted to…” she panted. “I wanted to suck you, but gah… you feel so good inside me.” She sped up slightly and saw pleasure blossom on his features. He started rhythmically swatting her ass every time she rose. One cheek and then the other was lit with his fiery spanks. Her cries went from pained to pleasure whimpers as he slammed his cock up harder when she came down. His cock reached what seemed an impossible depth.

  He groaned and fisted her hair with his free hand and continued to spank her ass.

  “Baby, fuck me hard. Show me what a badass you are.”

  Her pussy clenched and dripped at his words. She was not some scared woman, she was his badass baby girl. And only he could control her—no one else and only because she gave him that power.

  She leaned down as the tension increased in her abdomen. Her mouth clasped over his shoulder, over the tattoo of a horned creature, and as she bit down into his fleshy muscle the most amazing coiling spring in her belly released and ripped through her. She screamed into his shoulder. His moan of release followed.

  * * *

  “Did I hurt you?” She looked up from her spot between his legs in the cool grass. His beard tickled her face.

  “No, babe, but if Daddy’s little girl bites again she’s going over my knee.” He kissed her forehead and she snuggled deeper into his arms.

  She’d run a finger over the teeth indents on his shoulder after they came down from their orgasms and smiled. She had marked him as hers, just as he’d marked her. She felt sad a moment, knowing both markings would fade just like them.

  “It’s getting late,” she said, looking at the sky.

  “More like early,” he countered. The sky was lightening as they sat in the dewy grass beneath a tree.

  “Thank you,” she said again, looking up at him.

  “For what, babe?”

  “For everything.” Her eyes welled and she knew her emotions were running high because of everything they’d done that night. He’d given her another explosive orgasm—another first of its kind for her, and so much more. With his dominance, she felt her confidence growing. It didn’t make sense but she knew it to be true. Not in a million years would she have ever thought she’d ride on the back of a motorcycle.

  “You’ve been here for me every second… whether it’s to comfort, protect, or correct. I was resisting because I felt guilty for enjoying you while I’m here to grieve. I’m at Tonalonka for my uncle and instead I’m falling for you. It seems so wrong, you know?” She felt him freeze against her. Was he holding his breath?

  She swallowed and kept talking, hoping to clarify. “I mean not like falling for in like a long-term way…” She chewed the inside of her cheek. “I just think, knowing my uncle, he’d want me to be supported and cared for during this time. I think he’d be happy I’m not sitting somewhere bawling over the loss, right?”

  “Yeah. Right.” He started to shift beneath her. “Come on. I’d better get you back.”

  “Drew?”

  He looked at her, his expression hidden.

  “I… I… didn’t mean to…”

  “Don’t worry about it, Addi. We’re all good.”

  Her heart sank. He didn’t call her babe, or baby girl.

  When he got her back, he tucked her in and left her, claiming he had something important he needed to do. She nodded, feeling like her insides were filled with acid.

  God, how could she be so stupid and say she was falling for him? So what if they had a past. So what if they were connected because of their grief for Uncle Ray. It would mean nothing once she went home and back to her reality. She would mean nothing—forgotten.

  She didn’t bother trying to sleep, but stayed in the bed for a while simply staring at the light changing outside her window.

  Her mind tortured her with thoughts o
f why she wasn’t good enough for him—of why she was just a temporary distraction. Of why her father spent all his time hidden in his office and why her mother was always off doing wild things. The only correlation with every relationship was her.

  Feeling as if the walls were closing in on her, she got out of the bed. Drew seemed to really like her, to want the same things as she did, so why did he go from hot to cold so easily? Why did he seem so angry at times? She took a breath and held it, grabbing her hairbrush and taming her ‘just fucked’ hair before releasing the air in her lungs.

  It was easy to just say she wasn’t good enough or she was just a distraction. Easy, but maybe a bit narcissistic. Not everything was about her. And her gut told her something else was up. Things between them weren’t as black and white as they seemed.

  She glanced at her uncle’s letter. She still couldn’t do it. What she wanted to do was go to the cliffs. See the place where everything began with Drew. Maybe there was more to their breakup than she remembered.

  Already in Drew’s shirt, she pulled on a pair of loose cotton sleep shorts and some shower flip-flops she’d found in her gym bag. Even if nothing came from her going to the cliffs, the walk would do her good.

  She couldn’t even remember where the damn cliffs were but walked along the lake knowing it would eventually bring her there. The bugs were biting in the early dawn as she walked along the marsh. They buzzed in her ears and left welts where they bit her, but she ignored them and as the sun rose higher, it amped up the heat and they disappeared. Cicadas buzzed and she panted as the sun beating down on her made the steady incline seem steeper.

  It would be a scorcher that afternoon. The kind of day that was good for swimming and lazing by the lake and not much else. Maybe she’d take her notebook and sit by the lake and write Uncle Ray’s eulogy. Forget all the drama of Drew and her twisted feelings.

  Before the cliff came into view, she saw the house. It was sprawling and gorgeous, probably close to five thousand square feet along the edge of the forest where pine needle and damp earth beds turned to rock, greenery, and moss. The house was made of logs, but with the windows, huge and tinted so she couldn’t see in, and the glass wraparound veranda, it looked modern. Was this the house Brent had spoken of? Was this where Uncle Ray had painted?

  As she got closer, she saw the door swing open in the slight breeze that had picked up as she neared the cliff. Addi looked around. A flash of blonde caught her eye and the short-shorts on the blonde told her exactly who it was.

  Layla.

  She wanted to follow, but looked back at the door. Which was more important? She moved faster to follow Layla. She could go back and see the house after. The way the door flapped and Layla ran told her following was more important. She was up to no good. Unless, was Drew in the house? She looked back and shook her head.

  As she got closer to Layla, she slowed, knowing the noise could alert her. Layla had slowed, herself, pulling out her phone. She pressed some buttons and stuck the cell to her ear.

  “Rebecca? You aren’t going to believe what I found. Call me as soon as you get this. You’re going to shit. Trust me.” She took the phone from her ear and pressed a few more buttons before putting it back against her head. “I’m sending you some pictures.”

  Addi paused, looked back at the cliff house and then at Layla. What had she found? Making a split-second decision, Addi turned back. What was in the house?

  The lock hadn’t been broken. A key was in the mechanism as the screen door creaked open and closed. Had Layla been trying to steal her uncle’s paintings? Was Drew trying to hide them from her here? Was he trying to distract her with his dominant biker daddy routine so he could sell them before she found out about them?

  She held her breath, turned the key, and pushed open the inner door. The room that opened before her was vast, with cathedral ceilings and skylights to allow more natural light to pour in. Paintings were hung on walls, sat on easels half complete, and set against crates, closed and packed labeled for shipping. Drop cloths splattered with color and brushes in glass jars cluttered the room and the intense smell of oil paint and turpentine accosted her nostrils.

  He was trying to hide this from her. She walked deeper into the room, spinning around to look at all the amazing art pieces. Emotions battered against her and she held strong against them. Her uncle was amazing. The paintings were overwhelmingly beautiful.

  Scenes of the camp, cliff, lake, and marsh were all around her. There was even a self-portrait of her uncle watching the sunrise at the lake. He was holding a steaming thermos cup and a fishing rod, and it was so realistic, it took her breath away. The way his shoulders stooped slightly with age and his favorite plaid shirt was wrinkled and faded, and even the way his smile was slightly tilted, made it so real, it was as if he were alive standing before her.

  As she passed through the room into a kitchen, she felt her strength waning. The beauty through the wall-sized windows overlooking the cliff was astounding but she barely noticed. Her eyes were stuck on the paintings hung perfectly on the walls.

  Her. They were all of her. Tears welled as she went closer. She was sixteen, chubby, and innocent, her hair hanging in dark braids, but the truth of the painting lay in the stubborn pride painted brilliantly in her eyes and the tilt of her chin. It was like going back in time and looking in the mirror. She was on the cliff, her mouth a willful curve and her eyes flashing determination. The boys were all there too, but none held the focus or detail of her in the painting.

  Her uncle hadn’t been there. He hadn’t seen what had happened. As far as she knew he didn’t even know it happened at all. How could he have painted this?

  The portrait beside that one was of her as well, her face down in concentration as she read. The shade of a willow tree shadowed her face. This time there was no obstinate look on her face, just one of peace and wonder.

  She looked around again—every portrait was of some moment that summer. Except for the one sitting on the easel closest to the bay window. It was her as an adult.

  Addi’s mouth fell open. Her in the big floppy hat and flowered skirt. The first day she’d met Drew in Last Resort. Her hand flattened against her mouth.

  Uncle Ray was not the artist. Drew is.

  It clicked suddenly that he smelled of turpentine and paint and what she thought was grease on his fingers could very well have been remnants of his latest work. Why hadn’t she realized this before? He’d drawn her many times at camp and they’d discussed his dream of being an artist. Shit!

  Addi closed her eyes, letting a memory from camp play out in her mind like a movie.

  “Sit still, squirmy!” Drew said, with his one eye peeking over his sketchpad. “Keep moving and I’ll give you something to squirm about.” She tipped her head back and laughed. He was always threatening her. The pad flopped into the dirt suddenly and he lunged at her, tackling her to the ground gently. His big strong fingers clasped her two wrists above her head and his free hand found her ribs. She squealed as he tickled her.

  “Stop… no… please!” Giggles burst from her and echoed through the clearing as she wiggled relentlessly for freedom.

  When he stopped, she was out of breath. His eyes found hers and her stomach fluttered. Those blue eyes were so filled with adoring, she felt it right to her soul. The dark blue ring she loved so much seemed to pulse and he leaned down and kissed her nose.

  “You, gorgeous, don’t cooperate at all!”

  “Lemme see!”

  Drew turned the pad her way.

  “It’s amazing. You’ll do it, you know. You’ll be a famous artist.”

  She smiled, opening her eyes. He’d succeeded in getting his dream. Addi wandered the house, finding paintings everywhere, more of her and camp that summer, and even some more of her uncle. Those she stared at for a long time, feeling both grief and joy at the sight of them.

  Drew really captured him well. He had a way of painting beyond a simple expression. He told a story with e
ach face. You felt as if you knew the subject. You knew what they were thinking, what they believed, and what they felt. It was quite amazing really and she didn’t doubt why his paintings sold for hundreds of thousands of dollars. He was brilliantly talented.

  Why though? Why did he hide his talent? Her brow furrowed. And where was all the money? He lived in a trailer, and it wasn’t a new one either. And why were so many paintings of her?

  She got to a room with a closed door and twisted the handle. It didn’t turn, but the door opened a crack anyway. The jamb was broken. The room was full of paintings too, but without light she couldn’t see them in detail. They weren’t like the others though—that much she could tell. They were dark and gave her chills.

  “Christ, Addi, did you break into my trailer and steal my keys?” Drew’s accusing voice startled her and she spun to see his deep frown and sleep-tousled hair. Her heart pounded in her throat. He still had faint bed lines on his cheek.

  “You startled me.”

  “That tends to happen when you’re caught being naughty, baby girl.”

  “Are you mad that I’m here?” she questioned when he looked around, sighed. He walked past her and shut the door to the room. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he gathered a breath.

  “Only that you broke into my trailer and invaded my privacy.” His brow quirked up. “But I think Daddy knows how to deal with naughty little B&E bandits.” His mouth hitched at the corner and her heart fluttered as he reached for the buckle of his belt.

  She stared, her heart doubling its pace as the belt buckle jingled. Her core clenched and heat spread from her middle outward, weakening her as it went. She even considered keeping quiet to see where things went. The thought of that leather against her ass titillated her.

  “I couldn’t have stolen the keys, Drew. I found this place while I was out walking. Brent mentioned a cliff house but I wasn’t sure what was out here.” His hand paused in unbuckling and she swallowed. “The door had the key in it and I saw someone running away. But if you wanna keep sliding that belt through your loops I just might confess to something I didn’t do.” Though her tone and expression were flirty, his was not.