Dirty Biker (An MC Motorcycle Romance) (The Maxwell Family)

by Alycia Taylor

  Chapter Thirteen

  Alexa

  When we got inside, Ian grabbed my towel and ripped it off of me.

  “Go lay down on the bed,” he said. I didn’t argue. As a matter of fact, I was feeling so emboldened all of a sudden that I wiggled my naked hips all the way into the bedroom. I knew he was watching me. I heard him growl as I disappeared into the room. I lay down in the center of the bed on my back and waited for him to join me. Seconds later, there he was. He knelt over me and literally just started putting his hands all over me. He started at my neck and worked them across my shoulders and down my arms. Then he started with the bottoms of my legs and worked them up to my stomach and finally across my aching nipples. He pinched and pulled on them for a few seconds and then his hands were on the move again. His fingers were on my clit then and I opened my legs wide to give him access. He did something then that nearly cause my head to explode. He started tapping against it. At first he tapped lightly and then he did it again, harder. He kept doing it, alternating between soft and hard until I swear, I was ready to scream. I grabbed his wrists and tried to say enough…but it came out completely unintelligible. He got the idea quickly and parted my legs more with his hands. He slid one finger inside of me, just enough to get it wet and then he used it to start rubbing slow circles across my engorged clit. He would slowly rub for a while and then just stop and put pressure on it with his thumb. Every time he did that, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Watching his face was almost as much of a turn-on as what he was doing. His blue eyes were so intense, like he was studying it. I closed my eyes for just a second and suddenly it was like a jolt of electricity raced through my body as his tongue lightly touched my clit.

  “Oh God, Ian!” He began doing with his tongue what he’d been doing with his fingers only seconds before. He would let his tongue lazily lick around the outside of my clit and then flatten it out and put pressure on it. My breaths were so fast I was in danger of hyperventilating and I swear my pulse was pounding at two hundred beats a minute. I arched my back, pushing myself deeper into his face. He took that as a sign to speed up and he started licking and sucking furiously. The sounds of my cries were echoing off the walls. I finally reached back and grabbed the pillow and stuffed it into my mouth so that I wouldn’t wake his neighbors. He sucked my clit into his mouth and slid a finger inside of me. He only put it in slightly and then as he sucked furiously on my clit, he moved his finger around from side to side. I thought I was going to cry, it felt so fucking good and then he tried to kill me. He slid that finger all the way in and then added another. One of them was in all the way to the knuckle straight and the other just bent slightly. He crooked it and moved it like he had been at the entrance. Only now he’d found my G-spot and I never felt anything like it. I was right on the ledge of the cliff and in only seconds if he kept that up, I was going over head first.

  I thrust and bucked my hips as he began to pound his fingers into me as deep as they would go and then pulled them back, nearly all the way out. He’d repeat it then and even with the pillow in my mouth, I was making some deep, primal sounds that even I had never heard before. My body was throbbing so hard it was almost an ache and when the dam finally burst. My walls clamped down tightly on his fingers and began pulsing, sending the wetness cascading down across his fingers and hand. I shuddered and shook and I swear it felt like I would never stop coming. When I finally did, he drew his fingers out slowly and my body began to tremble. He grinned and looked up at my face.

  “Good baby?” he asked. Nothing that made sense would still come out of my mouth…but I think he had his answer in my garbled response. When I could control my muscles again I reached up and took hold of his hand and pulled him down next to me. I kissed him deeply, tasting myself on his lips and tongue. When I broke the kiss I sat up and looked down at him. His body was so freaking hot. Sometimes I couldn’t believe that I was with this hot guy. He looked like some kind of Greek God lying there with a light sheen of sweat covering the ripples of his hard muscles. His erection was practically dancing, it was throbbing so hard. I put my hand against his chest and moved my palm over it, delighting in the feel of it and the way my palm was able to glide easily across it. I let it continue to slide down over his flat, hard abs to the top of his pelvis and around his pulsating cock down to the tops of his thighs. I felt him shudder as I let them rub down one thigh and then up the other, stopping just short of touching his cock each time. I leaned forward and blew on it, causing him to moan. He had his hands on his stomach and when I got close to him his fingers stretched out and then he pulled them back in. He was aching and he wanted to touch it….Not that it wouldn’t turn me on to watch that, but not tonight. I wanted to be the one to give him his release. I took his hands in mine and moved them away. He grinned at me and then gasped loudly as I leaned down and without using my hands at all, I took him into my mouth. I let my tongue probe the tip and then slide slowly down the underside of the shaft. I pulled my lips up all the way to the end and then slid the all the way down. Then, I started sucking, hard. He was making loud noises now. He was the one that sounded primal. The sounds he was making were a major turn on and I felt myself gushing with wetness all over again.

  I reached up and wrapped my hand around the shaft as I sucked it, lightly stroking at the same time. Then I let my hand slide all the way down and touched his scrotum, lightly massaging it with the tips of my fingers. I got a little carried away…a little too excited, and I let my fingernails scrape it, delicately. He jerked and I stopped.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He laughed, “No, that was a good jerk,” he said. “An incredibly good jerk.” I smiled and went back to my work, this time letting my fingernails softly glide all the way back to the area behind his scrotum.

  “Oh God, Alexa. Baby that feels so good. Fuck, you’re perfect.”

  I continued to pleasure him with my mouth and hand, taking him all the way in to the back of my throat. I loved the feeling of him throbbing against my lips. I increased my suction, using only my lips now and the back of my throat. He was moving his hips up and down, saying my name over and over until he finally wrapped his hands up in my hair and pulled me off of him.

  “Jesus, baby. That’s so fucking good. You have to stop now, okay. I want to be inside of you when I come.”

  I smiled at him and moved up. I straddled him and rubbed my wet slit across his erection. He reached up and took me by the arms and pulled me down towards him so that he could take a nipple into his mouth. He bit down lightly and I nearly came again.

  “Oh shit! Ian!”

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “I’m not sure, but if that was pain you can call me a masochist because I loved it. Do it again.” He grinned and bit down on the other one. I let out another little yelp and reached down and took his cock in my hand. I gave it a couple of firm strokes before lining it up with my opening. He shivered, and then as I lowered myself down onto him, I saw his urgency in the way he grabbed my hips and pulled me down on him hard. I started riding him, up and down, in and out while he returned to sucking and licking and biting on my nipples. With each bite, I increased my pace, lifting my hips nearly off of him before slamming my pussy back down hard. I would grind against his pelvis before doing it again. He still had my breasts in his mouth but he was breathing hard and trying to say something at the same time. I had my hands pressed into his chest and I could feel his heart slamming hard against it.

  He opened his eyes and looked into mine as he thrust his hips up into me. Our pace got faster and both of our thrusts harder and I could see the look on his face that I was coming to know well…he was getting close. I leaned down and sucked his bottom lip into my mouth and played across it with my tongue as he wrapped his arms around my back and crushed me down into his chest. I could feel myself getting ready for another orgasm just about the time he cried out and said, “Oh fuck, Alexa! Shit! Oh my God!” I felt myself clamp down hard against him as he swelled and pulsed and t
he liquid filled me so full that it began to seep down across his legs and pelvis. I collapsed into him and we both lay there, breathing hard against each other, trying to get just one full breath. When my breath was finally starting to get under control, I felt his lips touch the top of my head and he said, “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, but thank you God. Thank you so much.”

  I lifted my head up and looked into his sexy, half-open blue eyes. He smiled and I smiled back. I collapsed back down and I think I fell asleep like that. We both knew how the other one felt. It was warm and safe and right. If it didn’t work out in the long run, I know that these memories of my times with him will be ones that I will cherish forever.

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  BEAUTIFUL TRAGEDY

  By Alycia Taylor

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2016. All rights reserved.

  Chapter One

  Molly

  I stepped into the crowded auditorium and looked around. There were way too many people here. Looking for Megan and Jake would be like searching for two fish in the ocean. The place was wall-to-wall college kids. There must be three hundred people stuffed into this room designed for about half that many. I had to wonder what the fire marshal would think of this.

  I did a cursory glance, because I had told Megan I would meet them here. What I really wanted to do was turn around and go out the same door I came in. I’m not prone to claustrophobia, and I’m not an introvert, but there are two things which I am absolutely not interested in. One is a room full of loud music and loud people, and the other is having a boyfriend. Yet here I am. One of the perils of friendship, I’d have to assume, was that you found yourself doing things that didn’t please you, in order to please your friends. It wasn’t quite peer pressure but along the same lines. The irony in that was that they thought by forcing you to do these things you didn’t like to do, they were somehow enriching your life. It was a vicious cycle, but Megan had been my best friend since kindergarten, so I would find a place against the wall and endure it for a while. Then afterwards I would meet the man that Megan had dubbed, “The hottest guy on campus”. Megan would be pleased, and I could go home with my conscience unscathed.

  I found a space big enough to back myself into and stood between a tall white boy with unfortunate skin and body odor, and a girl that I could only assume must suffer from dwarfism. Although she was quite a bit better looking than Danny DeVito standing next to her, she definitely must have made him feel lofty.

  I had only started classes here at the university a few weeks before. Megan and I had always planned to go together, but circumstance wasn’t on my side when she started over the summer. She went on without me with my promise to soon follow. Luckily, one of the girls in the freshman dorm over the summer had gotten a bad case of something venereal (that was the going rumor anyways) and she’d had to go home before the fall semester began. Luckily for us, I mean. For her…not so much. Anyway, it freed up a bed in the dorm and Megan’s roommate agreed to take it so I could have hers and room with Megan. I thanked the other girl profusely, and because I was so grateful to her I also suggested she steam clean the mattress…just in case.

  While Megan had been attending the university without me, she’d met Jake. Now, don’t get me wrong, I think Jake is a good looking guy, but when Megan first called and told me about him, I was picturing Brad Pitt in Troy. Instead, I’d have to go with Michael C. Hall from Dexter. He was still a good looking guy…but the son of a Goddess? Unlikely. He had reddish blonde hair and an athletic body and his personality more than made up for not having Brad Pitt’s face. He was good to my best friend, and Megan pronounced to me before I ever met him that he was her “soul mate”. Even if I hadn’t liked him, who was I to come between two souls that were meant to be?

  Megan was anxious for me to make new friends here, but mostly she was anxious to set me up with this guy, Brock. She thought it would be great fun if we dated guys who were not only best friends but also roommates. I did tell her that I didn’t want a boyfriend, but when that hadn’t worked after three or four tries, I’d gone after his name.

  I mean, who names their kid Brock anyways? Okay, I’m judging again. After all…who is a girl with a name like Molly to judge? But Brock? Really? It made him sound like one of those fake wrestlers in the WWE if you asked me, and I told Megan so. She had only laughed at me and said that I wouldn’t care what his name was once I met him. She said I would forget my own name when he looked at me with those bright blue eyes. So I had to aim lower…I went for the music.

  “He’s a musician,” I had told her.

  “So?” she said.

  “So? So he’s probably either a dark and depressed type, or an ego-maniac. Either way, no thank you.”

  “You’re just making up excuses,” she had accused me. I would have been offended, had she been wrong. Of course I was making excuses. I didn’t want a boyfriend.

  Megan said that his voice was beautiful and he could play a guitar better than some of the classic rock guys that I liked to listen to. I told her that would have to remain to be seen, but the one thing I was sure of was that I would not be going out with this Brock. Then she got down and dirty about it and said, “Please just meet him, Moll’s. I know you’ll love him. Just say hello…for me.”

  It was a dirty ploy and I shouldn’t have let her get away with it. But here I am, I had agreed to meet him today…and to be polite, but that’s it. I’ve told Megan more than a dozen times that a boyfriend, one month into my freshman year and less than two months after a long stint in the hospital, would complicate my life way too much. I like things in my life to remain constant I guess. I drink my coffee black, take my pills at the same time every day, and I call my grandmother on the same day every week. Megan says that sometimes she thinks I was born thirty-five. I don’t think so. I don’t think you have to be older to just not be good with change.

  Besides all that change stuff too, I was finally free. I love my grandma, and she rocks for taking me in when I was just a kid and my mom bailed on me, but she’s a hoverer (if that’s a word?). I finally feel like at long last I can breathe. I don’t have my sweet granny looking at me like I might crumble into ash at any moment, or doctors poking and prodding me, or nurses waking me up every hour…I’m finally free. I don’t want to muck that up by getting involved with some…musician.

  The volume of the first band was loud, but the screeching of the guitar at this very moment might well be the reason I’ll never hear my own future children say my name. It had to be ten or maybe twenty decibels above an eardrum-friendly level. Being so far back from the stage, I can’t really make out the guy’s face whose playing it. He was also singing, and his voice may have been really nice, if the guitar wasn’t aching to drown it out.

  I squinted, and I could make out a mass of black hair and lots of tattoos. Uh oh, this had to be the infamous Brock. Megan had told me that he had black, shoulder-length hair, blue eyes and lots of tattoos on his arms that were quite nice in their own right. Okay, she had been right about a few things. He did have nice arms. The V-neck T-shirt that he wore fit snugly, and his chest looked good as well. His hair was black and he did have tattoos. I was still squinting, but at an Adonis I couldn’t see. Maybe he was a much less Latin Enrique Iglesias, but still god-like? At this distance I’d have to beg to differ.

  The rest of t
he women in the auditorium might argue with me. They all seemed to be dying to touch him, held back only by the invisible wall of campus security. I watched him as he was coming to the end of the song. He threw back his head and as he hit a high note, he brushed a few sweaty strands of the shiny black hair out of his eyes. I was shocked to note then, even at this distance, that Megan was right about one more thing; he did have the prettiest blue eyes that I had ever seen. I had to wonder if he was wearing contacts, that’s how blue they were. As I looked at him and pondered it, he brought his song to an end and the audience jumped to their feet, all but blocking my view of him, and I’m sure severely impeding that of the dwarf to my right.

  I toughed it out to the end…two bands later. I was rather proud of myself too, having fought off the urge to leave several times. As the flood of college bodies began to ebb towards the exit doors, I made my escape. I texted Megan when I got to the courtyard and told her where I was.