Chaos: Contemporary Biker Romance

by Jameson, Juliet

  "Let's go," Boston said. Millie looked up to see Boston standing at a faint white door, unlocking the deadbolt with one hand, his black helmet under his arm on the other. The image sent a shot of excitement through Millie's heart, and she felt ashamed because of it. This man had just tried to kill her baby brother, but Millie's intuition told her there was something deeper, more hidden and purer about this man than met the eye. Millie was a doctor, so she was no dummy. She knew it wasn't just all in her mind, but she couldn't exactly put her finger on what it was about Boston that made her feel…safe?

  She got up from the bike and walked through the threshold of the doorway into a blue darkness of his bedroom, a small window at the far top of the wall opposite the door that barely illuminated the room. The sexual heat that had aroused her just a few seconds ago now seemed a foolish fantasy, and Millie panicked. He lured her into the darkness of his bedroom so she would not fight when he gutted her with a Bowie knife, or shot her through the head, the heat from the gun's muzzle burning the hair from her head. She swallowed hard and tried to force her eyes to adjust to the darkness more quickly, before it was too late. Her throat was dry. "Hey, uh," she said, licking her lips, "Do you have a light in here?" She heard a flick then a nice lamp on the ceiling sparked to life, sending a yellow glow through the room. Millie turned around as Boston put his coat on the computer desk next to his bed. Millie's fear diminished when she looked at Boston's face, which was now strangely softer and more welcoming than before.

  "You can sit down if you want," he said, trying to sound less stern than usual. Millie sat on the edge of his bed as if ruffling Boston's bed covers the wrong way would set him off and sentence her to death. As her pulse calmed itself, the same gut feeling that she was in the presence of a good man returned to her. Boston placed his helmet in the computer chair and sat down on the bed next to Millie, continuing to undress. He took off his gloves.

  "What are you doing?" Millie asked.

  "I'm getting comfortable," he said, reaching for his boots now.

  "Why?"

  "This is my place. Am I supposed to feel uncomfortable in my own bedroom?"

  "We're not going to do anything you know. I'm not that easy."

  "Of course we aren't. You're too good for that. This was all about protecting your brother."

  "Who you tried to kill..."

  "I kill for a good reason. Your brother disrespected my boys. But they made mistakes, too. Bad mistakes. It shouldn't have happened. I tried to give him a second chance."

  "By breaking his nose?"

  "No. He had a chance to make things right. I never intended to kill him, ever. I just wanted to scare him."

  "Some help. It was my fault he never showed up. He was in bad shape, and based on your reputation, there was no point. He might as well have shot himself in the head," Millie said.

  "Well, I guess he's lucky we met, then."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "I knew you cared about him. Were trying to protect him. You didn't do this because you wanted to sell your body. You actually have respect for yourself. That's good."

  "Well, most girls these days don't even know what that word means." They sat there in silence for several minutes.

  Then Boston fell back on the bed, stretching his arms above him, reaching over behind Millie. She looked to her side at his massive fists, his beautiful and hardened fingers, somehow clean and beautiful. She wanted to see what the rest of his body looked like, and in an irrational moment, when the female parts of her soul took over her conscious control, she dropped her guard and fell back onto the bed, too. She released herself into his arms, and Boston rolled her body over closer to him, so that they were face to face, Millie laying on his chest. The heat that radiated from his muscles was hotter than a furnace. She looked at his cobalt blue eyes and placed a small hand on his thick cheek, rubbing her hand up and down the side of his face, feeling the thick black mane of hair on his head. He placed a small kiss on her cheek, and she could smell the spearmint odor of the mouthwash on his breath. She then ran her hand from his neck, down over his massive chest, to the furry line which ran from his stomach down to his groin. Without looking, she caressed the rest of his body, exploring with no restriction all his bumps and folds and slabs of hardened bone and muscle. Halfway up his waist, she felt a bump of flesh in a smooth area of skin. She raised his shirt, to reveal a gunshot wound. She looked up at him, the doctor part of her personality sending a clear message just with her eyes: concern. His scar was the first place she kissed him. He pulled off his shirt as she explored his chest and stomach, kissing and sucking, but his sexual prowess took over his momentary passiveness. He grabbed her by the shoulders and laid her down on her back, planting soft kisses all over the base of her neck and the underside of her jaw. He ran his tongue through her lips, taking possession of her with his kisses, laying claim to her body with his mouth. His tongue ran down her throat softly, tasting her in full, filling her with himself in a complete way. His body's massive weight hovered over her hardened nipples, held up by his powerful arms in order to prevent crushing her. He continued his kisses over her neck and down to her bra area, running his hands over the contours of her body, up and down the sides of her curvy waist, over her hips and thighs, down between her legs. Likewise, she felt along his python-sized arms, his massive back and chest, down through his hips as he ground them into her waist. Then he unclasped her bra and blouse revealing her breasts, wrapping her hardened nipples in his mouth, tasting her with all he had. She moaned. She was his object, his toy, all his to be used and played with in whatever way he deemed necessary. Then he unbuttoned her jeans and ripped off her panties, burying his mouth in her soft, moist folds. He tasted every part of her, her anxious button, the soft sides of pubic hair, running his tongue up and down the walls of her lady parts. He brought her to the apex of pleasure, within an inch of a climax, but stopped to take off his own pants. His massive member was already semi-erect, and when Millie first saw it, she was for a moment a little teen girl again, terrified at the prospect of sexual intercourse. But the older, more mature woman took over again and filled her entire being with undulating and ecstatic anticipation of the big moment. She wanted Boston inside her, filling her up with his primal, animalistic masculinity. There was no greater desire she had ever experienced. She had to feel it, right now, feel his hard manhood in her hand and mouth. She pushed him on his back and filled her mouth with as much of his member as she could. She ran her tongue up and down his shaft, rock as a rock now, out and over the head, taking in the cap of his dick. She could taste him then like her tongue was touching the end of a battery terminal, electric and enervating. She bathed his cock with her soft lips, massaging his scrotum with her tongue and mouth. She breathed in the beautiful musk smell from his package.

  Boston could not take it anymore, the anticipation of bucking himself into her too much to wait for. He sat up and gently motioned for her to lay on her back, and before she knew it, he had slipped himself inside her canal, slicing his blade through her over and over and over again. With every push of his rod into her velvet glove, Boston sent her further and further into an ever-intense high she would never again experience for the first time. Her orgasm came in violent and mind-bending waves, crashing her on a shore of a Paradise she never wanted to leave. The whole length of the climax lasted for years, in her eyes, until her mind faded from the immediate location of Boston's bedroom, into a place more akin to heaven. In the distance of her mind's eye, as he came, Millie heard a soft grunt as he exploded in her recesses. They had fused from individual, separate entities, cold and alone, to something more than the sum of their parts. They were together and, together, more.

  ------------

  Millie felt as if she had been run through some magical pleasure machine and emerged a new, changed women. Her whole body vibrated with a pulsating aftershock of orgasm. It was an experience she couldn't wait to find again, with the man lying naked next to her. There was
a rustle outside, and Millie raised her head from Boston's pillow, her hair tousled from the rough lovemaking. She sat up on the bed, her breasts hanging from her waist as she jumped up on the bed to get a better peek at who might be waiting for Boston outside his apartment. She was too short, though, so she jumped to get the view for a brief airborne second. She saw the familiar shoes of her brother, waiting for Boston to answer his door. Logan had come to save her, Millie thought. How sweet. She would need to contact him in case Logan did something drastic and brought an entire army of gang bangers back with him, armed with AK-47s and ammunition for war between powerful urban armies. Logan needed to know things were okay, that not only would Boston no longer threaten him, but that she once again found a way to get him out of trouble. Except this time, there was definitely something Millie got out of it, too. And when she looked down at Boston's naked body under the thin white bed sheet, boy did she get something out of it. She might as well have hit the lottery and gone to heaven.

  The End

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