I'm With You (Reapers MC: Shasta Chapter Book 1)

by Bijou Hunter

  “I was really stressed about today,” I say as my hand goes to my bare neck. “I woke up worrying. Then at the coffee shop, I realized you liked me, and my hair wasn’t a big deal. But then my mom’s call made me start worrying again. Now, I feel bad.”

  Shane studies me. “I think I understand,” he says in the softest voice. “And, Ramona, that’s all I want. I don’t want you to lie or fake shit. Before you think about how I lied to you in the beginning, keep in mind how that turned out.”

  “With me thinking you were the sexiest man ever?”

  Shane surprises me with an almost embarrassed smile. I instinctively touch his face, needing reassurance that the beautiful man in front of me is real.

  “I’m not hungry,” I say, leaning forward to press my lips against his. “I can eat later when my friends are here. I want to do something that I can’t with an audience.”

  Shane kisses me softly at first. It’s a test. I’m acting mopey, and he’s afraid if he pushes too hard that I’ll start crying. Men hate tears.

  When my tongue licks at his passive lips, they awaken and take a more proactive route. Shane’s hands slide down my back and press me against him. Not too hard or rough, but there’s no denying he’s in charge.

  THE ROMANTIC

  Ramona’s mood improves once she’s snugly in my arms. My lips keep hers busy, and she tastes just as sweet as I imagined.

  When she slides her hips against mine, stroking my erection, I can barely think. I’m not used to depriving myself. I had a long line of willing hookups in Ellsberg and then in Shasta. I never get worked up without finding relief. Not until I saw Ramona.

  Is today too soon for sex? What’s normal? I’m not a normal guy, but I’ll pretend to be for Ramona. Except I don’t think she’s a normal girl. Not with her grinding against my cock like she’s trying to get me to jizz in my jeans.

  “When are your friends coming back?” I ask as she leaves a juicy hickey on my throat.

  “Around eight.”

  I check my phone, see we have the house to ourselves for hours, and decide normal is overrated.

  “I’m clean,” I murmur as my lips linger against her bare throat. “I stay on top of that shit, and I made double sure for you.”

  Ramona holds my gaze and reveals a silly smile. “I haven’t had sex since Cleveland, and I got checked after Matt. Just to be safe.”

  Now that we got our medical histories out of the way, my hands explore her body in the same way hers do mine. She strokes my chest while I cup her sweet, fleshy tits over her shirt. I can feel the heat of her pussy through our clothes. My dick is nearly tearing itself free.

  Yeah, Ramona and I are hitting all the right notes. No awkward head butts or weird noises. It’s perfection. Then I try to tug her shirt over her head, and Ramona instantly goes rigid.

  “I don’t take my shirt off during sex,” she says as her fingers tease at my flesh hidden under my beard. “I’m shy, you know?”

  My hands slide inside her shirt as she holds my gaze. Just like that, we’ve left the hot, easy zone. Now we’re having a contest of wills, where I want her top off, and she wants it on. I should win. Her pussy is already wet as fuck. She’s dying to feel me inside her. Wild with lust, she doesn’t even seem to remember her busted lips or bruised face.

  But when I try to lift her shirt, Ramona’s hands go to mine and hold her shirt down.

  “I want you to go home,” she says immediately.

  “So, either your shirt stays on, or you’ll blow me off?” I ask, unable to bow to her challenging gaze.

  “Yes. I don’t want my shirt off. I said no. You should leave.”

  While studying her expressive eyes, I wrestle with my ego. I hate relenting to another person. They have to earn my submission. River does it. Shelby and Taylor know how to force me to bow. Ramona is too weak to beat me, though. If I push, she’ll back down. About the shirt or anything. She’s not emotionally strong enough to win this argument. I can win every time. And I really like to win.

  But there’s one weak person I routinely submit to, and beating my mom would be so easy too. Once flustered, she can’t stay focused on her goal. I could run circles around her, fuck with her head until I always got what I wanted no matter how she felt.

  But I do care. With both Mom and Ramona. I need them to be different than other people. My mom loves me like no one else. I can be a total fucking disaster, and she’ll still think I’m wonderful. I need that kind of trust with Ramona, but she’ll never offer it if I bully her.

  “I’m not shy,” I say, letting go of her shirt and resting my hands on her hips. “But you’re not me, and you are shy. I am choosing to be okay with that.”

  Ramona watches me with her battered puppy look. She seems tired now. I keep forgetting how on edge this woman is at all times. When I stress her out, she’s instantly overwhelmed. I suspect keeping herself sane leaves her always exhausted. Pushing her is a dick move, but I’m naturally a dick. My bullying normally gets me what I want. For Ramona, I have to be smarter.

  “There are few people in this world that I’ll suffer for,” I say and stroke her pale forearms. “And I suffer greatly whenever I don’t get my way. I’m a spoiled brat, Ramona. Never forget that. You telling me no hurts me. Me giving in to what you want hurts me too. But you’re worth suffering for. Not many people are. I want you to understand that.”

  Ramona looks depressed now. I think she wants to give in to me. That’s what she does, I notice. If someone offers her even the tiniest thing, she feels as if she must repay them. It’s why she blew her Matt lie when I told her about my mom. It’s why she’ll take off her shirt because I said one fucking nice thing to her. Ramona’s worth is completely reliant on the people around her. If they withdraw their approval, she becomes nothing. No wonder she’s always on edge. At any moment, someone could effortlessly steal away her last shred of self-esteem.

  It’s fucked up. I ought to dig her father out of his grave and piss on his corpse for not raising this woman better. I should send Shelby and Taylor to enact a little revenge on Ramona’s mother too. These people failed at their most important job—raising a healthy kid.

  “I’m going to think of this as a challenge,” I say, gently tugging down her shirt before she tries to give me what I want. “Right now, you have a rule. You don’t know me well enough to break that rule. One day, when you know all there is to know about me, you’ll want to break that rule. Not because you have to, but because the rule won’t matter anymore. For me, you won’t have any rules.”

  Ramona doesn’t know how to respond. She just stares at the spot behind my head.

  “I saw something that first day,” I say, answering the question I suspect she’s asking in her head. “Maybe one thing clicked for me, or maybe it was everything about you, but I needed to know more. I still have that need.”

  “And not getting your way makes you suffer,” she mumbles, and I sense she wants to smile. “Because you’re spoiled.”

  “Rotten. I reek of it,” I murmur as my lips find her throat.

  Ramona responds with a sigh, and I think we’ll get back on track. Then she slides off my lap and rests on the ground between my legs.

  “No,” I say like a dope when she pops the button on my black jeans.

  “Shouldn’t I at least enjoy as much of you as Kelsi got?” she asks, fucking with my guilt and ego. It works too. To avoid talking about her friend sucking me off, I’ll do whatever she wants.

  Ramona tugs my jeans down my hips and frees my erection. Her eyes brighten, and I doubt she’s thinking of Kelsi as she takes my hard flesh in her hands. Biting her lower lip, she stares impressed at my sizable cock.

  Lifting her gaze, she looks so relaxed. Sex is a casual thing in this town. Fucking is easy for Ramona. Emotions are where she struggles. Boundaries are clearly an issue too.

  But enthusiastically sucking my cock is a safe way to connect with me. While it’s not the healthiest route to building a relationship
, it sure as fuck feels great.

  THE LEGACY

  My sore lips take their time lovingly sucking Shane’s thick cock. A lot of men would grab my head and guide me to their preferred speed. Shane just watches me enjoy his erection. The only time his eyes aren’t on me is when he comes, and his pleasure insists he closes them.

  Licking him clean, I make a mental note that I’m now tied with Kelsi when it comes to knowing Shane sexually. Hopefully, I’ll take the lead soon.

  Shane gives me a very appreciative smile after he comes. Men are always nicer after blowjobs. That’s just science.

  I grab a bottle of cranberry juice from the fridge and swish around a mouthful. Swallowing, I offer him the bottle. Instead, he only watches me with such intensity that I turn around instinctively to see what he’s looking at. But, of course, Shane’s focused on me.

  “I want to get you off,” he says in a voice thick with emotion.

  I join him on the couch and tug off my shoes. “No, thanks.”

  “What?” he says, losing his desire and instantly irritated.

  “I’m not in the mood to get off. That’s why I sucked you rather than riding your mighty dick.”

  Shane allows a little smile when I compliment his dick. He once again gives away his age. Young guys are really proud of their dick sizes and abilities. In ten years, he’ll have lots of other stuff to be proud of. If his dick is still his biggest accomplishment at thirty, then something went terribly wrong in this handsome man’s life.

  “Why are you not in the mood?” he asks, tugging his jeans up and giving me a familiar frown. “Your pussy was radiating enough heat to keep me warm all night.”

  “Felt that, huh?” I ask, sitting on my feet as I face him. “You’re a great kisser.”

  “Stop complimenting me and spread your legs so I can make you come.”

  “No.”

  “Because you’re shy?”

  “No, my ribs hurt.”

  Shane’s annoyance shifts immediately. “From those fapsocks?”

  “Yes. I’d rather just chill. Can we do that?”

  Shane studies me with his brown eyes, and I can’t imagine what he’ll say. “That guy in Cleveland wasn’t serious. Did you have any guys that were important?”

  “No. Did you leave anyone special back in Ellsberg?”

  “If there was someone special, I’d have brought her with me.”

  “What if she didn’t want to go?”

  “That’s what restraints and ball gags are for.”

  Despite his glare and interesting word choices, I don’t react. I know he’s not irritated about some hypothetical woman. He’s still angry about my side hurting.

  “Did you ever have any serious girlfriends?”

  “One, I guess. She attended the college in Ellsberg. We only saw each other on weekends. I think we dated for like six months.”

  “What happened?”

  Shane stops frowning and shrugs. “Like I said, we only saw each other on the weekends. One Friday, she texted to say she needed to study. Then the next Friday, she bailed again. Then a third Friday. I just figured she was busy. Besides, I had other shit I could do. It wasn’t a big deal. Apparently, she was testing me, though, and I failed.”

  “What was the test?”

  “I’d miss her so much that I’d insist on visiting during the week or demand she put me before her school crap. I’ll be honest that she was really pissed when she told me all this, and I wasn’t ready for the drama. I only heard half of what she was saying because I was so busy thinking about how I hadn’t expected her to be upset.”

  “She blew you off to see if you’d notice, and you didn’t?”

  “We had separate lives and only hooked up on the weekends. I don’t know why she’d think I couldn’t live without her.”

  Placing his large hand in my lap, I shrug. “Maybe she couldn’t live without you and assumed you felt the same way.”

  “If she couldn’t live without me, then she wouldn’t have ditched me for three weeks. Or dump me when I didn’t care that she ditched me for three weeks.”

  “You didn’t care at all?”

  “I have friends and family. This was back in Ellsberg, where I could find a dozen things to do at any moment.”

  “Oh, I get it. You were dating her, so you’d have a regular booty call. But she thought you were dating for real. Did you lie about your feelings, or was she just living in a different world?”

  “Are you worried that I’m lying about my feelings for you?”

  “Well, I am now,” I say and snicker. “You don’t have to pretend to care about me, you know? We can just hook up.”

  “I don’t like that.”

  “Well, grow up, Shane. People hook up, and the world doesn’t revolve around you,” I say, wondering if he’s super high-maintenance, and I’ll spend all my time feeding his ego.

  “I want you to care about me. It’s not enough to just fuck.”

  “I do care.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m a sap, okay? I get attached easily. I’m also shallow. The more attractive a person is, the faster I attach myself to them. That’s why I like you so much.”

  Shane gives me a little smile. “Well, I’m not lying about my feelings for you.”

  “Were you lying about them with that girl?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “I pretended to care more about Matt than I really did.”

  “Because you wanted him to pay for shit.”

  Grinning, I shrug again. “Yeah. The job in Cleveland didn’t pay much, and rent is way higher there.”

  “Did you suck him off on the first date?”

  “No, he got a blowjob after we shared our first coffee,” I say, losing control of my suicidal nature. “I guess that means you’re losing the contest you’re having with him in your head.”

  Shane’s glare would be more intimidating if I didn’t still taste his cum on my tongue. Guys after orgasms want naps, not emotional battles. That’s science too.

  “I normally date safe men,” I say, changing positions as my rib cage throbs after a day of moving around too much. “I used to think wild men didn’t want me, but I think I just don’t give them much to work with. Kelsi says I’m afraid I’ll become my mom.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not your dad.”

  Studying him, I don’t know why Shane gets agitated so easily. I’m not sure if it’s science, but logic says relationships ought to include only one moody person. If Shane plans to fly off the handle over every little thing, does that mean I’m supposed to be the calm one? No fucking way is that happening. I’m not wired right to be stoic. Shane might not be either. Where the hell does that leave us?

  THE ROMANTIC

  I don’t know why everything keeps pissing me off. I’m usually much more relaxed around women. Yet Ramona says one thing about a guy she didn’t even seem to like, and I’m ready to tear the house apart.

  I’ve never been this kind of possessive, but I think if her ex-boyfriend walked into the room right now that I’d break a few of his ribs for the offense of knowing her before I did.

  Shaking my head, I admire Ramona’s content smile as she watches me. Her nearly black eyes are warm and relaxed. She’s in a better mood, but I’m agitated. I suspect it’s because I keep imagining when I’ll have to leave her side.

  Ramona shows no jealousy while we talk about my ex-girlfriend, Alexa. Does that mean she doesn’t care enough? Alexa was possessive. Is it a personality thing? Why am I second-guessing every fucking thing?

  “You’re still a biker,” she mumbles when I point out how she can’t end up like her mom since I’m not her dad.

  “So is my dad, and he’s a good husband.”

  Ramona looks at me as if I’m insane. I remind myself that she’s been mine for weeks. Sure, that’s nuts. I’m acting insane. I get that, but a simple look from Ramona shuts down my logic.

 
“I don’t want to keep talking about this,” Ramona says, adjusting on the couch so she can stand up and walk to the kitchen. “It ends with me saying shit about bikers, and you saying you’re better than the guys I’ve known. Then I have to nod because I don’t want to make you unhappy. No doubt, you’ll know I’m full of shit.”

  I join her in the kitchen, where she pours herself more cranberry juice. She refuses to look at me. She probably thinks that’ll keep me from starting trouble.

  “I like you.”

  Ramona finally relents and lifts her gaze to meet mine. “I like you too. That’s what the blowjob was about.”

  “But I feel like you’re just biding your time.”

  “Look, okay, let’s just do this,” she says, trying her hardest to sound tough and failing. “With bikers, women can be the old ladies or the sweet butts. I’m not sure what’s better. The old lady gets the honor of staying home and raising his kids while his dick gets serviced by other women. The sweet butt gets the fun of fucking without any of that pesky respect.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

  “How else can it go?”

  “My dad never cheated on my mom.”

  Ramona looks ready to laugh. Then I suspect she remembers what I said about Mom during our second coffee. That’s likely why she never gets out a chuckle.

  Instead, she just says, “I’m sure you want to think that.”

  “When a man loves a woman, he doesn’t have to work hard to keep his dick clean.”

  “So, you don’t think any of the Skullz love their women? Because every single one of them fucks sweet butts.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying,” I growl and then remember I’m talking to a girl I’m trying to impress. Calming down, I add, “Or maybe they were just surrounded by other men with no self-control, so they all thought that was normal. I just know my dad didn’t fuck other women. He was home every night. If he hurt my mom, she wouldn’t survive. She doesn’t trust many things in life, but she always trusted him. Why would he chance hurting her just for some pussy?”