by Davida Lynn
“Mmhm.”
My eyes were open wide. I saw the desk across from us, and I looked down to see Trask’s leather vest and black t-shirt over his broad shoulders. I couldn’t believe I was back in Bakersfield, and Trask had me up against the wall. He made me feel like a teenager again. There was more passion than there had ever been.
I went on, hoping he was still paying attention, but hoping he’d keep up the kisses on my neck at the same time. “He owes someone a shitload of money, which he doesn’t have, of course.”
Trask groaned into me with his deep bass, “Of course.”
“And he’s got eighteen hours. Well, seventeen by now, I guess. I don’t know what else to do, Trask. I don’t have anyone else.” My voice got higher, putting on the subconscious damsel in distress tone. I had no idea if it would work or not. His lips stopped their downward crawl to my shoulder blades.
Trask pulled away. He leaned forward, the hand holding my wrists pressing them hard into the wall. He had that look like it was too good to be true. As he laughed, I wanted to defend myself, but it was hard. I could have been upfront with him, but his commanding presence made it hard to stay focused.
“I fuckin’ knew it.” He shook his head. I saw the change in his eyes, and a second later, his free hand was at my throat. I swallowed hard and tried to pull my hands free, but I was useless against his muscles. He clamped down with just enough pressure that I could still get a breath, but it made me thank God for each one.
As my heart raced, I tried to figure out what I had done wrong. “Trask!” I tried to choke out, but it ended up sounding more like a dog getting its tail stepped on. I was in full panic mode.
“I fuckin’ knew that good for nothing piece of shit would get his head in the noose sooner or later, and now he’s dragged you back into that shit. I thought when we split, it would be the end of it for you. I thought it would be nothing but lab coats and sick kids getting well because of you. Fuckin’ piece of shit.”
Trask was looking past me, but his grip loosened at my throat, and I made my quick case. “I know Nick’s no good, but he’s all the family I’ve got! Trask, I’ve got no one else. I’ve got you.”
It must have snapped him out of it, because he met my pleading eyes, his voice softer. “And you want me to do what? Bust in with guns blazing? Kill some drug dealer for you? Obviously you can’t pay, or Nick wouldn’t be in this trouble. What were you planning on doing for me?”
He was growling at me. He was absolutely right; I had nothing to give him. I thought about it, but, damn, I had driven to Los Bandoleros in a borrowed car. I had nearly two hundred grand in debt.
Then, out of nowhere, I spoke. It was all I had, but I was willing.
“I’m planning on doing everything I’ve learned in the ten years since I’ve seen you last.” I stared straight into his eyes. He could probably feel my pulse at my neck, because my heart was beating faster than ever before. If Trask was the true biker that I thought he was, it was the only way I’d be able to pay him. I stared, waiting to see what his response would be.
We both knew what was about to happen. My voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
The smile. The smile he gave almost made it all worth it. “No. No, you don't.”
I moaned at his answer. I’d been longing to hear that commanding voice take me over. His hand drifted down from my neck. He didn’t pull it away. I was still trying to read him. The little nuances of his personality were still there, but he’d changed since I met him, and he was harder to read.
His fingers trailed over the bare skin of my throat, following the lines downwards. My lips parted slightly and my fingers curled into fists. My hips came forward, eager to feel that hardness between Trask’s legs again. We both wanted it, and the payment was just a pretense to make it better, or maybe make it worse. I suddenly had this fantasy of a good little med student being taken by the rough biker. It had never occurred to me before, but it was really hot.
Trask’s hand lowered to my chest. I watched him as he looked down, remembering the softness. I gasped when his fingers danced over my perky breasts. His touch was fire, and I was burning from the inside out. He trailed down my yellow dress, getting ever closer to the warmth between my legs.
I spread my legs, begging for him with my body. As Trask’s hand grew closer and closer to my sex, I closed my eyes, loving the feeling of being pinned and taken by my old lover. The ten years had done us both good. He was more rugged and manly than I remembered, and I had a few tricks up my sleeve, too.
I let out a moan that I had perfected since Trask and I started having sex in high school. It was the pretty little kitty gets anything she wants moan, and it had worked on every guy I’d been with since him. I gave him the big doe eyes, knowing he was watching every reaction I had. His hand sank below the hem of my dress and began to slide up the exposed skin beneath it.
He must have seen my face, because a look of pure and primal satisfaction appeared on his. He leaned in, and we shared a kiss for the first time in a decade. His lips found mine, and the fire turned into an inferno. I opened and took his tongue into my mouth just as his hand slid all the way up and between my quivering thighs.
I cried out, but Trask’s strong mouth muffled my pleasured sounds. His fingers pressed into my panties, and I could barely stay standing on my own. I allowed more and more of my weight to fall onto his strong arm above me, and he didn't even react. He kept me easily pinned to the wall, and the talented fingers of his other hand began to find their way beneath my panties.
His lips made their way back down to my neck with a fury this time. “Oh, God, you don’t know how many nights I’ve dreamed of this.”
“Dreamed of what, Trask? Tell me. Tell me everything.” My voice sounded as smooth as Ava Gardner’s, even with his fingers so close to my womanhood.
Between kisses, his words flooded my mind and made me swirl. “I’d dream about you coming back, as beautiful as ever. Now here you are,” he pulled back to look me up and down again, “and it’s beyond anything I could have ever dreamt about.”
I moaned. He could always get me fired up with just his voice. Now, though, it was his voice, his domineering attitude, and his fingers all working together to melt me. I was his; nothing had changed in the ten years we’d been apart.
Trask let go of my hands, and without another word, I was reaching to get his pants down. We were animals, tearing at each other in our quest for that primal release. As soon as I had his pants down, my hand was around him. He was hard and throbbing, and I couldn’t get enough.
Trask wasn’t wasting any time. His strong hands came to my hips. The hot and ripped biker lifted me into the air. We knew each other so well. As if it was rehearsed, I wrapped my arms around his neck just as he lifted me. In one fluid motion, I had my legs wrapped around Trask’s hips. As we kissed, he slid inside me. It was immediate, rough, and just what the doctor ordered. There’s something about your first lover that you never, ever get over, and I felt satisfied for the first time in years.
He had me against the wall, fucking me like an animal as I held on for dear life. We were groaning and grunting in unison, our bodies finding that perfect rhythm. Trask spun around so he faced the desk, and with a quick swipe of his hands, everything on it fell to the floor. Laying me on my back, he slammed into me hard, making me forget everyone that had come after him.
I could feel where I’d be bruised and sore the next day, but it only got me hotter. Trask’s body looked incredible over me. He had pulled his shirt and vest off, and his taut muscles flowed as his body moved. His broad chest was littered with tattoos. Some were military, others biker, and some were nothing more than designs embedded in his skin.
As our passions exploded together, I dug my nails into Trask’s back. The world was just the two of us, and I screamed without shame or abandon. His body pressed hard into mine as his own pleasure erupted.
Trask held me for a long time. We panted a
nd stared into each other’s eyes, catching up after ten years without saying a word. When our breathing returned to normal, he pulled me upright so I was sitting on the desk. He held my face in his hands before gently laughing.
“Goddamn, I missed you, Hope.” He reached for the t-shirt on the floor, but I stopped him.
“No.” I tried to sound commanding. “Just the vest.”
Trask shook his head, but did as I asked. He picked up his black leather vest with the giant Rising Sons image on the back. His muscles flexed and shifted as he pulled it up his back. With just the vest on, his tattoos were on full display. I smiled and took in the beauty of his thick arms.
I reached up and touched the patch that designated him Sergeant at Arms. “So, what does this mean, Sergeant?”
Trask looked down at the patch. I could see his eyes get serious. It was clear that it meant a lot to him, and I almost regretted asking about it. He looked back to me and the smile returned.
“I keep the peace.” I knew there was more to it, and I realized that Trask was exactly who Nick and I were looking for.
He sat down in the chair and put a boot on either side of me on the desk. “I make sure nothing goes down in the bar,” He leaned forward and gave me a knowing look. When he had stepped in to save me, he was doing his job. I smiled.
“If we go to any other bars or functions, I make sure the place is safe, or as safe as it can be. I have to step in when two of the brothers get into disputes. I guess I’m just a police officer for the club.” The smile disappeared. “And sometimes if things get a bit more violent, I’m in charge of weapons.”
“Does that mean you’ll help me and Nick?” I didn’t want to press the issue. To say things were complicated was a slight understatement, but time wasn’t on our side.
Trask reached up and squeezed my thigh hard. There’d probably be another bruise there, too. “After what you just put me through, the least I can do is bring it before the president of the club. You made a convincing argument. So can I.” He smiled and closed his eyes for a few seconds.
I was dying to know how he went from jock to Marine to biker, but I knew when Trask wasn’t up for talk. His eyes were lost in some faraway thought. I watched him as I pulled the straps of my dress back up.
I was nervous to head back out into the bar. Two people don’t disappear for a half hour and not fuck. Trask knew it too, but it didn't seem to bother him. He came out with his arm around my waist and a shit-eating grin on his face. My face was red, but I was still next to him. He was still only wearing the vest, so it was no question.
When he pushed through the swinging door, the bar erupted into cheers. Handfuls of popcorn rained down on us from the bikers on either side. It was like the end of a redneck wedding. I brought a hand up to cover my blushing face and shake my head. I couldn’t believe that I had gone from a lecture in med school to sex with a biker in a bar in one afternoon.
At the end of the line of bikers, a woman was holding two beers. Trask took one and handed it to me. He took the other and led us to the bar. The whole experience left me delirious. The day had been absolutely nuts. I sat at the bar surrounded by Rising Sons, trying to make sense of it all.
An older member of the club came up to me after we had a chance to relax. I saw that his patch said “President,” so I tried to give him the respect he deserved. After all, I needed the club’s help to get Nick out of his trouble.
He may have been in his fifties, but the man was still impressive. His arms were tanned and thick. His face was cracked and worn like a great storyteller’s. There was a slight limp to his walk, and he was maybe six inches taller than Trask. That put him well over a foot and a half above me.
He gave me an over-confident smile that seemed like a prerequisite to being a biker. “I’m Bear. Let’s talk, you and me.”
***
I tried to keep the story as short as possible. I left out everything about my parents and growing up. I told Bear that my brother owed the wrong people money, and he didn’t have a penny to his name. He listened, occasionally looking over at Trask. Bear waited until I leaned back and took a long pull from my beer before he said his piece.
“I’ll keep it short and sweet, darlin’. We ain’t a charity. Now, I know how you paid the Sarge, here, and I just don’t think you’ve got what it takes to please every Rising Son.” Bear looked me square in the eye. “What have you got that we need?”
The day had finally caught up with me. Class, the drive, and my amazing reunion with Trask had taken its toll. I ran my hands through my hair, brushing it from my face. I killed time trying to think of what I could offer a group of rugged, dangerous bikers. I didn’t have money, and I certainly wasn’t about to fuck anyone but Trask. I drew a blank.
I let out a laugh that said more than my words, “I have nothing to offer. Nothing.” I felt Trask squeeze my side. He knew as well as I did.
“Look, Bear.” Trask spoke up, “Hope and I grew up together. I've known her my whole life. She’s in med school with a mountain of debt of her own. She grew up poor. Come on, man. You gotta give this some thought.”
Bear turned his attention to Trask, then gave me a look, “I’m really sorry, darlin’. We don’t ride for free, even if you grew up with this sorry son of a bitch.” He looked past me to the man with his arm around my waist, “Sorry, Sarge, but I think you understand. No hard feelings, yeah?”
“You know my brother is dead without you? Does that bother you at all?” I could tell that Bear wasn’t the type of man that you should stand up to, but the Rising Sons were the only shot I had to keep Nick alive.
Bear’s face didn’t change. “Yeah, kid, it bothers me, but do you know how many Rising Sons I’ve lost? How many brothers,” he said that word with reverence, “I’ve lost at my side? You may have won over the Sarge, but you don’t impress me, darlin’. You’re just a hot piece of ass that got her hooks in the wrong guy.”
I was speechless, and before I could come up with a insult that was fitting, Trask stepped in. “Bear, I’ve known Hope for nearly twenty years, and—”
“I’ve had hard-ons that have lasted longer than that. I’m not the cops. I’m not a pro bono mercenary. You want me to put my guys—your guys, too, Trask—on the line for a strung out junkie? Nah, man. That’s not my idea of a good fuckin’ time.” Bear was apologetic, but the words cut me deep.
He gave me the best look of understanding a seasoned biker could. “I feel for ya, I really do. I’ve known far too many people get sucked into the hard stuff and never pull out of the spiral. We’ll do what we can for you, but I’m afraid it ain’t all that much.”
I nodded. It was a one in a million shot—I’d known that going in. I was already trying to come up with the next one in a million when Bear took his drink and left us alone. My heart ached with guilt and anger, mostly at myself.
After Bear had gone, Trask kissed the back of my neck and whispered, “Hey, don’t worry. You’ve still got one on your side.”
I spun around so quickly I almost dropped off my stool. “You mean it?” I was so excited I might have spit a little beer onto the table.
He nodded, and after a swig from his beer, he added, “I guess you’re lucky it’s the Sergeant at Arms deciding to play mercenary. Tell Nick to stay away from the trailer. When this guy sends his goons tomorrow, they’re gonna be dealing with me, instead.” He gave me a wry smile and a loving squeeze.
The sudden realization hit me that I was going to have to go back to school in a few days. It clamped down on my heart for a split second, and Trask must have seen it. He slid my stool closer to him.
“Hey, I know what you’re thinking, Hope. If you think I’m gonna let you stroll back out of my life for another ten years, you got another thing coming.” His smile was heartbreaking, and he could see that, too.
I felt his hand on my thigh. It was warm and reassuring. In high school, when Trask discovered that ticklish spot just above my knee, it became his favorite spot. When
we were playing around with each other, he’d tickle me to death, and when things were serious, Trask would rest his hand there, relaxing me. He had the power to break the mood with just a squeeze, but he never would, and I always trusted him when he did that.