Stone Hard: A Secret Baby MC Romance

by Melinda Minx

  I tug against Stone’s hand and dig my heels into the ground.

  “What?” he asks, turning back toward me. We’re only a few feet from the back of the building, and it’s dark. The only light is from the moon and the city miles away.

  “You saved me,” I say. I put the bottle of gin onto the ground and look up at him.

  “Well,” he says. “It was fucking stupid of you to take a job here. What were you even thinking?”

  Asshole. “I was thinking that you had seemed like a good enough guy, and you were a biker, so--”

  He puts a finger to my lips. “I’m not a good guy, Jo. Don’t try to lie to yourself--don’t convince yourself that I’m anything other than what I am.”

  I swallow and grip his wrist. I pull his hand slowly away, but I don’t let go of him. “I only know who you are from what I’ve seen. From your actions. You’ve saved me twice now. That makes you good enough for…”

  My voice trails off. I’m too embarrassed to say, “To let you fuck me, probably just once.”

  He grabs my wrist now, and he pushes me against the wall, then leans into me. “I’m a good enough guy for one night. One good ride. But you’ve seen this place, these people around me. You gotta promise me, Jo, just this one time.”

  My heart is pounding, and I can feel the blood flushing warm against my skin, partly thanks to the gin.

  “You’re…” I say in disbelief, “trying to make your fear of commitment into some noble act?”

  “No,” he says, dead serious. “I’m bad fucking news, and you’re good. Real good, but I want you bad, Jo. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. If I were something other than what I am, maybe I’d want to have something real with you. But it’s too late for me to change. So you’ve gotta promise me, if we do this, it’s just this once.”

  He’s moving closer to me now, and I’m flat against the wall, with nowhere else to go. Not that I want to escape from him. My face is burning hot, but I’m also burning between my legs.

  His perfectly sculpted face moves closer toward me. I still haven’t promised him, but fuck it, maybe one time won’t be enough for me? How many people do heroin just one time?

  My eyes lock onto his lips. They are parted slightly, and his masculine scent is completely overpowering me as they move closer. He’s pinning both my wrists to the wall.

  I close my eyes and wait, and finally I feel his warm lips crush against mine. Our wet tongues find each other, and they dance back and forth, seemingly electrified. His hand slides from my wrist down my forearm, and then up to my shoulder.

  I drink him in, and his taste fills me up. I grab hold of his back and pull myself into him, pressing my body against him. My tits press into his abs, and I keep kissing him as if stopping would suffocate me.

  He suddenly lets go of me and pulls away. “You have to promise.”

  “Fine!” I say, lunging back toward him.

  He pulls away.

  “I promise, okay? One fucking time.”

  “Let’s go back to my place,” he says. “I don’t want Lenk coming back out to start something.”

  I try to kiss him again, but he pushes me away. “Look who can’t resist me,” he says. “You can’t even wait ten minutes?”

  I scoff. “You’re the one with no self-control. Making me promise it will only be one time.”

  He ignores my comment, grabs my hand, and pulls me toward the front of the bar.

  When we turn the corner and reach the front of the bar, there are bikes parked everywhere. Dozens and dozens of bikes are all in a line, and there’s a circle of men in leather jackets gathered around two in the center. Another fight. Stone pulls me up on his bike and starts it up, and I watch the two men in the center punching the shit out of each other as everyone cheers.

  Stone kicks the bike into gear, and we peel through the sand and onto the road. I watch the fight disappear into the background as we ride. I pretend that all of those bad things really are going away, but Stone himself said that he’s just as bad.

  I’ve just chosen to ignore it. For one night.

  Stone turns off the main road and drives out onto the sand. He slows down as the bike vibrates wildly on top of the packed sand path.

  “Where the hell do you live?” I shout over the roar of the engine.

  “The desert,” he says.

  We pull up to a small house after a few minutes. It’s not run down or anything, but it’s in the middle of the desert. Not even on a road.

  “You live here?” I ask.

  He steps off the bike, takes my hand, and helps me down.

  He points up. “You can see the stars out here.”

  I look up, and I can see the Milky Way. “It’s like when I went hiking in the mountains.”

  “And it’s quiet,” he says. “After long nights at the Chrome Hog, or long nights doing...biker stuff, it’s good to come back to somewhere quiet like this.”

  He looks at me and smiles. “Though it won’t be quiet tonight.”

  “Don’t get so cocky on me,” I say. “I’m not going to fake it just to stroke your ego.”

  “Oh, Jo,” he says, shaking his head. “No one ever has to fake it with me. I know just what a woman needs, and I give it to her. There’s only one thing I want you to stroke, and it’s not my ego.”

  I laugh. “Does every woman need the same thing? Or is each one different?”

  “Let’s not talk about other women,” he says. “It’s just you and me here. You, me, and the stars. And I know what you need, Jo. I know exactly.”

  I lean into him. I can still feel the heat from the bike’s engine radiating off behind me. “Try me. What do I need?”

  “You need me to eat your pussy. You need my tongue on your clit.”

  I stare at him wide-eyed. My pussy burns as I picture it. I do need that, and I want it now.

  “And what do you need, Stone?”

  “I need you to not hold back,” he says. “To scream as I lick up all your juices.”

  Jesus.

  “Then stop talking and do it,” I say, shoving him. He doesn’t budge. Shoving him just knocks me back. He really is solid as a stone.

  He grabs me, lifting me off the ground. I scream, just like he wants me to, and he throws me over his shoulder.

  His keys jangle as he opens the door and carries me into his place. He flicks one light switch, and I see a living room with almost no decoration. Just a leather chair and a small TV. There’s some books on a shelf, but I can’t see any of them close enough to read the titles. Stone carries me straight through toward his bedroom.

  He throws me down from his shoulder and directly onto the bed. He looks down at me with hunger.

  “You don’t waste any time,” I say.

  “Why are your clothes still on?” he asks.

  “I thought you were going to tear them off,” I say, sitting up on my knees.

  I’m in the middle of the bed, and he’s standing high above me.

  “No,” he says. “I want to see you peel those tight jeans off your body.”

  I swallow and nod. I like the idea of him watching me undress.

  I lay back on the pillows, flat on my back. I unbutton my jeans and pull down the zipper. My black lace panties are visible now, and his eyes are locked on them. His chest is heaving up and down with heavy breaths.

  “More?” I ask.

  “I already told you to take them off,” he says. “I don’t beg. I don’t even ask twice.”

  I pinch the denim and pull. The jeans really are tight, and as I pull them down off my ass, they tug my panties down too.

  “No,” he says. “I didn’t tell you to remove your panties. Just your clothes.”

  “Panties are clothes,” I say, smiling.

  “Just the jeans.”

  I pull the panties back up to my waist, and I peel the jeans off with one hand while holding the panties up with the other.

  “Good,” he says, as the jeans reveal my upper thighs. />
  I look him in the eyes and slowly pull the jeans further down, revealing more and more of my legs. When I get them to my knees, I have to readjust and pull from the bottom.

  I feel wet, though I doubt he can see through the black panties just how wet I am. I’d normally feel embarrassed, but I feel almost disappointed that he can’t see how wet he’s made me.

  I get the jeans all the way off, and I throw them onto the floor.

  “What are you doing?” he snaps. “Don’t throw your clothes all over my floor.”

  “But--”

  “Pick them up!” he snaps.

  I crawl off the bed, and he walks slowly behind me, but he never lets his gaze fall off of me.

  I begin squatting down to pick up the jeans, but he stops me.

  “No. Bend down and pick them up.”

  I feel my cheeks flush, but I obey him. I bend down feeling my panties tighten against my big ass as I grab the jeans off the floor.

  I look back at him, still bent over, and his eyes look at me with ravenous hunger. I stand back up straight and hold the jeans draped over one finger. “Where do you want them?”

  “Walk to the hamper,” he says. “Bend back over, and place them carefully on top of my clothes.”

  I take slow steps toward the wicker hamper in the corner of his room. My hips sway with each step, and rather than looking back at him, I just imagine how he looks. I can feel his eyes on my ass, burning into me. Barely blinking.

  I bend over and put the jeans in, just like he asked. I can smell his manly scent from all over the house, but it’s strongest near the hamper. My jeans go in, adding a small trace of femininity to the masculine dominance of the house.

  I turn back around to face him. “Now what?”

  “Lay on the bed, but keep your feet on the floor.”

  I nod and obey.

  When I’m flat on the bed, I look over at him.

  “Keep your eyes on the ceiling,” he says. “No--close them!”

  I close my eyes.

  I feel his hand graze my left calf, and then the right. His grip tightens around my legs, and both of his hands begin to run slowly up my legs. With my eyes closed, I feel every small movement. I’ve touched him before, and our bodies have pressed together on his bike, but he’s never touched me like this. With the sole intent of bringing me closer--inch by inch--toward orgasm.

  “Do you like how that feels?” he asks, his fingers moving up my calves and settling behind my knees.

  “Yes,” I say. “I like it.”

  “Do you remember what I said you needed?”

  “I remember.”

  “What was it? What do you need?”

  “I need you to eat my pussy. To drink up all my juices.”

  His lips press against my knee, and then he moves his mouth onto my thigh. “You better be wet for me, Joanna. I’m thirsty.”

  God, am I wet. If I were wearing panties in any color other than black, he’d see just how wet I am. He’s close enough now that he might even be able to smell my wetness--to smell how fucking horny I am for him.

  He licks my inner thigh, and I moan.

  “How wet are you?” he asks.

  “Why don’t you check?”

  “I will,” he says. “But I want to hear it in your own words.”

  “I’m dripping wet,” I say. “My pussy is hot and soaked, waiting for you to lick it and drink it all up.”

  “You’ve got a dirty mouth,” Stone says. “I’ll have to punish you for that.”

  I bite my lip until the pain is unbearable. I pray that the punishment for my dirty mouth is Stone’s dirty mouth on my clit. The heat and pressure is built up so much, I can barely stand it. His hands and lips on my legs feels amazing, but it offers no real relief. I need him to lick my clit, it’s just like he said. Stone knows what I need.

  But his lips just linger along my thighs, taking all the time in the world to move up between my legs.

  “Please,” I say. “I need it, please.”

  “We only have this one time,” Stone says. “I will not rush a single thing.”

  He hasn’t even taken his shirt off yet. Normally I’d think I’d died and gone to heaven for a guy to take foreplay this seriously, but I’ve never felt such burning need between my legs before either.

  His hands slide up under me and grab my ass cheeks. I throw back my head and moan. He’s so damn close to my pussy now, but not close enough.

  “What did you think when you first saw me riding up?” Stone asks, kissing my thigh. “When you were stranded on the roadside?”

  “I was scared,” I say between heavy breaths.

  “Good,” he says. “Remember that feeling. That’s how you should feel about me.”

  “I’m not scared now,” I say. “The only thing I’m afraid of is that you’ll keep teasing me and--”

  “Quiet,” he says in a commanding bark. “After you’ve come so hard your brain is melting, remember that fear. Remember why this is a one-time thing.”

  I’m tempted to tell him to stop worrying about me--that I can take care of myself. But then I remember Lenk and the supply room. Stone is probably right, this is better off as a one-time thing. I don’t want to get sucked up into his world.

  He pulls me by the legs, and my body slides closer to him. I look up in surprise.

  “Keep your eyes closed!” he snaps.

  I obey, and suddenly I hear a loud tearing sound. I feel my panties tear off around my hips, and the cool breeze of nakedness hits me. My shirt is still on, but my bottom is bare.

  The warmth of his mouth presses against my soaked and swollen outer lips.

  “Oh, God!” I scream.

  He laughs, lips still pressed lightly against me. “I haven’t even done anything yet.”

  No guy has ever ripped my panties off my body. How can he even call that ‘not doing anything?’

  His tongue licks slowly up and down my wetness. I shudder and moan. I spread my legs wider, hoping it will speed him along. I want his tongue on my clit.

  But he takes his time, and he does just like he said he would, licking up all my juices. Having him eating my pussy stems the pressure, however, and my impatience is partially satisfied. I lean back and let the waves of pleasure pulse over me. Time melts away, and when he finally does bring his tongue to meet my swollen clit, it catches me completely by surprise.

  I throw my hands down against the sheets, and I squeeze hard. Powerful and carnal warmth pulses from my clit, up my spine, and hits my brain like a drug. I let out a high-pitched whine and pull the edges of the sheets off the bed.

  Stone’s rock-solid hands grab my waist to steady me, and I wrap my legs around his head. I buck my hips against him, and his tongue works me closer and closer toward orgasm.

  I put a hand on his head and pull at his hair, partially just to feel him, and partially to keep him locked tight on me. I doubt he’d stop now, but I don’t want to take any chances. If he took his warm tongue off my clit now, it would be the worst thing I could imagine. He’d do it to tease me, but it would be unbearable.

  I squeeze my tit with my free hand, through my shirt and bra. Stone hasn’t touched my breasts yet, but my nipples are hard and ready for him.

  My pussy starts to drip and burn blazing hot, and it sends my whole body toward climax. I moan loud, and Stone moves his tongue faster and faster across my clit. My hips buck wildly against him, but he moves with me and keeps his tongue right where it needs to be.

  The explosion of pleasure that hits me is too much. My entire body arches up like a bow, and from my pounding heart I feel all the excess pleasure seeping out of me. The intensity of the orgasm is more than one woman can bear--if I held it all in, I’d pass out.

  My arms flail wildly as I cum, and I cum harder than I ever have in my life, right against Stone’s mouth. My muscles become numb and my limbs turn to rubber, and I collapse down flat onto my back. I finally open my eyes, and it feels as if I’ve just been born--as if I’m
seeing the world for the first time.

  I look down at Stone, and he licks his lips. “You taste real good, Jo.”

  I can’t speak, my body is spent. I just tell him with my eyes that I need more. That I need his cock inside me.

  He laughs. “I know that look. But don’t you want to wait a while? Recover?”

  Before I can answer, he pulls off his shirt. The tattoos from his arms go all the way down his chest and torso, and God, what a body. His shoulders are broad and muscular, and his abs are a cut and rock-hard six-pack. His hips taper off into a v-cut that is deep and long as the Grand Canyon, and his whole body is glistening with sweat. He’s shining, like some oiled up Greek god.

  I bite my lip.

  “Now you,” he says, the ice-blue eyes gazing into me. “I’m tired of having to look down your shirt.”

  I laugh. “Oh, so you already saw them?”

  His eyes burn at me, and I remember that he will not order me twice. I sit up on the bed and pull my shirt off. I don’t do it slowly. Fuck that. I throw it across the room, trying to make it land in the hamper. It misses and hits the floor.

  I expect him to order me to pick it back up, but his eyes are wide and staring at my tits, which are spilling out of my bra.

  “Off,” he says.

  I reach back and unclasp the bra, and then I do make him wait. He made me wait so long, it’s only fair. I stare up at him, holding the bra tight against my breasts. He stares at me with intensity, but he doesn’t ask again. His gaze alone forces me to give up, and I let go of the straps.

  The bra falls, and he lunges at me.

  He attacks my breasts with animalistic intensity. He cups them in his hands, and his tongue goes straight for my swollen nipples.

  I fall back and let him take me however he wants. My body belongs to him now. He’s already proven he can give me everything I need and everything I’ve ever wanted, so why fight him at all?

  He bites lightly against my nipple, making it point out even further, and I scream and moan in response. The pain is there, and I know he’d stop if I asked him, but I do not want him to stop.

  The contrast of his warm tongue licking me gently, and his hard teeth biting down on me is wondrous, and both sensations intensify each other. His tongue feels so much warmer and so much gentler after he’s bitten me.