"Come on," I said, "I'm unbearably nosy. I'll bug you all the way to the coast."
He snorted. "I don't doubt it." He finally looked at me. His green eyes had dark circles beneath them. I decided to quit pushing the issue. For now.
Instead, I focused on another issue - the fact that he was looking at me as if he wanted to say something. Or do something.
I touched his jaw again. "Does it hurt?"
"No." His eyes flickered, just a brief movement before turning away. He was looking at my lips.
I leaned closer, breathing in the smell of him - the leather of his jacket, cigarettes and beer. He'd probably been at a bar. Doing what? He didn't seem drunk.
The air between us was charged with something, though. I was drawn to him sure as a magnet. My gaze settled on the bulge in his pants. Does fighting make him hard? Or is that because of me? Because of earlier?
He eyed me sideways. "I'm not like Bill," he said, "I don't charge for favors."
"But you're still sitting on my bed," I whispered.
His green eyes were dark when he faced me again. Whatever conflict he was having inside his head came to an end. He pulled me closer, guiding my leg so I was kneeling around him, straddling his thighs. Then he pulled me in for a kiss.
It was unlike any kiss in all my life. He took his time, like a man with nowhere else to be. He tilted my head the way that he wanted me; his lips were firm, but soft against mine. He ran his tongue along my bottom lip slowly, tasting every inch of it. Normally guys raced to get their tongue down my throat, but not Mr. Green.
I could feel his erection against my belly and longed to touch it, but there were no illusions about who was running this show. I buried my fingers in his white hair instead. Despite its color, it was still thick and full in my hands.
Heat was rapidly blossoming and growing in my womb. When my lips parted with a tiny gasp, he finally slid his tongue inside.
He was lighting me on fire again; this time with gentle strokes of his tongue against mine instead of an open palm. My body moved against his, pressing my groin against him. In our position, though, I couldn't get much contact.
Wilhelm growled against my ravished mouth. He cupped my tits, squeezing hard, and I gasped. My lips were swollen when he finally broke the kiss to tear my shirt over my head. Then his mouth was on my breast, sucking my pink and hardened nipple. The wet, hot sensation on the sensitive bud had me tingling all over. I made some sort of sound - some desperate little yelp - and he flashed a crooked grin up at me.
“I’m going to make you beg, little girl,” he said, low and dangerous. I knew he would. I was on the verge of begging already. His mouth found my other nipple and delivered a rougher treatment, sucking hard, biting. I yelped and squirmed and writhed in his lap. How did he figure out that I liked this so quickly? How had he found the right mix of pain and pleasure right away? Experience with age? Or something else?
My mind couldn’t dwell on it. I was swept away by the heat and the yearning ache he was creating in my body. It was like my pussy was howling soundlessly. It wanted the attention that my nipples were getting.
He flipped me over onto the bed and settled above me, his mouth never leaving my tits, his pelvis resting between my legs as if he belonged there. My ass was sore, but the pain was muted by the roaring need inside me. I could feel the ridge of his hard cock through the denim of his jeans and the thin cotton of my panties, and it was driving me seriously crazy. “Oh, God, Mr. Green…”
He nipped my breast hard enough to make me yelp. “You don’t beg until I tell you.”
I had to physically bite my lip to keep the words at bay. I’d never felt anything so desperate and intense. Me, Lily, who would rather be kicked out of my home than fuck a biker, wanted Nomad to fuck me hard and fast. Wilhelm, I reminded myself, Mr. Green.
Whatever his name was, he was kissing his way down my torso. He made quick work of my soaked panties, tearing them down and letting them drop to the floor. I watched his eyes as he drank in the sight of my glistening sex. He traced the wet, pink skin with a light touch. Goosebumps rose on my arms. I wanted to beg so badly.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. His eyes met mine briefly as I said it. I felt like I was glowing.
“Thank you,” I whispered. I don’t know if he heard me - my words were cut off as his mouth found my pussy and his tongue swept up through my velvet folds. I draped my legs over his shoulders, urging him closer. My fingers dug into the sheets; I tensed as he licked me from top to bottom and back again, his tongue scaldingly hot. He was methodical, lashing every inch of my pussy with abrasive wet swipes while deliberately avoiding my most sensitive places. A moan slid from my lips and didn’t seem to end.
When his tongue found my clit, my hips bucked. The touch sent a sharp bolt of pleasure through me, like an electric shock. His finger slipped inside my hot and creamy channel. I arched towards him with another yelp, silently begging for more.
With a note of warning, he said, “Don’t come.”
Oh, God. That was going to be impossible. I was on the edge already, my body a roiling storm just on the verge of breaking. “I’m close,” I whined. He slowed his finger’s movements inside me and withdrew his mouth’s attention. I moved with him still, panting, but getting a grip on my racing heart.
Just when I thought I’d regained composure, he added a second finger. I moaned as my inner walls stretched for him; he moved them in and out of me at an infuriatingly slow pace, no matter how I bucked my hips. He watched my face, his own eyes dark, cheeks flushed. He’s loving this. He was playing me like a fiddle, controlling me like a conductor. “Don’t come,” he said again, then lowered his face and sucked on my clit. His finger pumped faster, harder. I tried to think of other things, to picture calm lakes, dry deserts, blue skies and fluffy clouds, but the images dissolved and all that existed was his assault on my pussy; the deep, hard surges of his fingers, the wet lash of his tongue on my sensitive button. My climax was building again, at a pace I never thought possible. I’d never be able to stop it.
“I’m close, I’m close, Oh, God,” I chanted, squeezing my eyes shut. “I can’t, I’m so close-” He backed off again, slowing and sitting back. The loss was actually painful. Being on the knife edge of an orgasm, only to have it taken away was pure torture.
Just what was he doing? What did he want? Despite all his talk about not being like Bill, the Dust Bowl Devils were a bargaining people. Nothing was free. But what could I give him?
Surrender. I'd been following his orders, but just barely. I knew I still wore worry on my face. I was the very picture of tension and stress most of the time, and even now I knew my shoulders were tight, my thighs were stiff, my fists clenched. He wants me to surrender to him. To submit to this.
I wanted to. I really did. It was just so hard, after spending so much of my life fighting for some modicum of control. And look where it got me. So I took a deep breath, and let go. Home was far away; my problems were far away. Right now, I belonged to Nomad. Nothing else was important. Here, now, there was nothing to worry about. Nomad would take care of me; he would give me what I needed.
He noticed the change right away. "That's it, honey." He licked me again, slow and sensual. He eased my internal ache, pumping his thick fingers deep, stroking my g-spot, that deep place of heightened sensitivity. Sparks shot through my body, sharp and hot bolts of euphoria sizzling my veins. I teetered on the edge of the explosion, but it held itself at bay, because he hadn't given the order.
"Very good," he murmured, "Good girl. Come for me now, honey."
It was like a dam breaking. One more kiss planted gently on my throbbing clit, and I came harder; harder than I ever had. My pussy clenched around his fingers as I drowned beneath the pulsing waves of pleasure, flooding through me fast and strong with every beat of my heart. I cried out a sound completely foreign to my ears. Surrender. Release. Relief.
I wanted more. I wanted his cock inside me.
He had
the same idea, though not exactly what I had in mind. “Sit up.” I propped myself up against the headboard with the lumpy hotel pillows. He crawled up the bed, over my body, and knelt with his knees to either side of my hips.
I reached out to unzip his pants, thoughtlessly, my mind still in a sexual haze after my intense orgasm. He swatted my hands away. “Only what I say.” I nodded, but I didn’t look up at him. I was mesmerized by the huge bulge in his jeans. The old man was packing. “Close your eyes.” I obeyed with a sigh of disappointment. I wanted to see him - to see it. “Keep your lips closed.”
I listened to the sound of his zipper opening. My body quivered with anticipation. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, but couldn’t see him with my eyes shut so tight. I imagined him pulling his cock out - pictured it’s length and girth in my mind, its color, its textures. My mouth watered for him.
He pressed his cock to my lips and rubbed the spongy head back and forth. He painted my lips with his precum; the scent alone was enough to drive me crazy. I wanted to open my mouth, let him slip slowly inside, to taste him, to return the pleasure he’d given me. But I waited.
“Good girl,” he said again, his voice husky with lust. His praise made me smile. I wanted nothing more than to please him in that moment.
He pushed against my lips with a touch more pressure. “Open a little.” I let my lips part. He slid the tip of his cock between them. Without thinking, I slid my tongue against his slit, eager to taste him, to please him. But it didn’t please him at all. He grabbed a handful of my hair in a painful, tight fist and pulled my head back, away from his erection. “I didn’t tell you to do that.”
“I’m sorry!” I whined; whether from the pain or from the loss of his cock, I didn’t know. Both. “I’m sorry. Please. Let me try again.”
His grip relaxed, but he still kept my hair in his hand. “Again. My orders. Open your mouth.” I did, and he slid his cock inside. I breathed through my nose and kept myself still. It was an effort. He moved his cock against the roof of my mouth, against my tongue, aiming it himself with a fist around the base. My eyes still closed, I couldn’t see his full length but I suspected he’d never get the whole thing inside my mouth.
Echoing my thoughts, he said, “You’re going to pay for that. You’re going to take my whole dick.”
I hummed an affirmation, unable to form words at the moment. He stretched my mouth wider slowly, pushing in and out just a bit at a time. I nearly gagged as he approached the back of my throat. His cock was so hot and hard in my mouth, his scent so masculine, so seductive, I had to fight back an urge to lick and to suck, to give him what I was sure he needed.
He’d let me know when I was allowed.
If my mouth wasn’t full, I would have beamed when the head touched the back of my throat and his pubic hair tickled my nose. I’d done it. I was barely even breathing, but I’d done it.
He grunted with satisfaction. Staying in control, he gripped my head with both hands and fucked my mouth, pulling me back and forth as saliva dripped from the corners of my lips. He moved my head faster, then slower, muttering “good girl,” and smoothing my hair. He held my head still and thrust into the back of my throat, choking me. My heart raced as he did it, but he stopped after only a few thrusts and returned to more gentle motions, moving my head, using my mouth like a sex toy. His erotic little grunts of pleasure filled the air in concert with my own needy whimpers. I knew he was close; I could feel his cock throbbing with his heartbeat whenever he paused our motions.
“Okay, baby,” he said, his grip tight again in my hair. “Make me come.” I held my breath as I vacuumed him, my tongue flicking and swirling, eager to satisfy him. He pulled and pushed me with a steady rhythm, up and down his shaft. I teased the velvety head and slit, rolled my tongue along every ridge and vein with eager desperation. I wanted his hot seed in my throat; I needed to taste him. His hands convulsed in my hair as he groaned with pleasure. Almost.
His thrust became shorter, faster, more urgent, and I concentrated on squeezing the head of his cock. He muttered a curse, then, holding me still, he rooted and came at the back of my throat. I swallowed with each jet of hot, salty fluid as his cock twitched and pulsed against my tongue.
“Very good, baby,” he said as he back away. He was breathing heavily. My chest swelled with pride. I did good. I barely recognized myself. This wasn’t who I was; I was stubborn, defiant Lily. I didn’t let anyone boss me around. I abandoned my entire life because my options were less than satisfactory. What had I become? Who am I now?
“Hey, girly,” Nomad said, gently tilting my chin so I was looking up at him. I opened my eyes. He was even more attractive to me, now - so rough-looking, with that bruise, so wise with the lines marking his years. “I can read the concern all over your face.”
“I was just thinking-”
His fingers squeezed tighter. “Don’t. You don’t think in here. You can go back to fretting all you like when we’re back out there, but when you’re with me, like this… no worrying.”
My concerns melted away. Just like that. How does he do it? “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Whatever you say, Nomad. When we’re like this, it’s whatever you say.”
“Good.” He released my chin and tucked his cock away. I whined as it disappeared back inside his pants, and he chuckled. “You thought I was going to fuck you?”
“I… Maybe.”
“I said before, not until you beg. And I didn’t say you could beg yet.”
The knock on the door rang through the room like punctuation to his sentence. My heart jumped at the sound. My first thought was who found us? but I quickly realized it was more of a question of who found him? No one would be looking for me.
I pushed that thought away.
“Get dressed,” he said, climbing off the bed. He opened the door before I even found my panties.
“Anchor,” he said, “What’s happening? I told you to just call.”
“They’re moving her tonight,” a man replied. “We have to go, now.” I retrieved clean underwear from my backpack and pulled them and my jeans on as I listened in.
“Right now? Fuck. Okay.” The stranger waited in the doorway while Nomad retrieved his boots. Finally dressed, I stepped out where I could see the guy - Anchor. He wore the club colors on his jacket; he was short, stocky, and somewhat balding. I’d bet he knew Nomad from their own generation of the club. Nomad aged much better, though.
He eyed me with alarm. “There is a girl here.”
“Well, she ain’t a ghost,” Nomad replied.
“I thought they were mistaken. She isn’t safe here. They’re pissed about what you did to their bar and they’re sending someone to wait for you to leave.”
“This just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it.” Nomad shook his head. He pulled a gun from one of the drawers, and my eyes went wide. I hadn’t even realized he’d brought one in the room. It was generally safe to assume any of the Devils were armed, but it was still disconcerting when a weapon showed up seemingly out of thin air.
“Alright, honey, you’re gonna have to come with us. I’ll look for a safe place to stash you once we’re in the area. I think I’ll want to keep you in sight, though.”
I was no stranger to fights and rivalries and violence, but this was a bit much, and definitely more than I bargained for when I started this trip. “I should have taken the bus.”
---
We didn’t ride further into town as I’d expected, but back onto the highway and off the next exit. The strip club sat at the end of a long gravel road, lit up with white and red lights. The billboard read “XXX Eagle’s Starlets” Another MC owned joint. This didn’t belong to the Dust Bowl Devils, though, it belonged to one of their rivals, the Northern Eagles. Oh, God. Whatever this was about, it would probably end in violence.
Nomad parked the bike and I off in the woods before we even reached the parking lot. “Just stay here,” he said, “And be
silent.”
“What’s going on?”
He hesitated. He actually seemed to want to tell me. That alone was a surprise - normally I just expected to be kept in the dark. “Do you remember Whitney?” he asked.
I nodded. She was older than me - I remember being a freshman in high school and seeing her around, jealous of her popularity and beauty. She’d been put in the same position as me, and had taken the same option - she left. That was four or five years ago, now. It was a much bigger scandal at the time, since her father was a full member of the club. I didn’t matter as much.
“We’re here to bring her home.”
“Oh.” I looked behind him at the billboard again. Even if she’d been given the boot, the club wouldn’t be happy with her working for their rivals.
“So, be careful.” He hopped on the back of Anchor’s bike, and they sped into the parking lot, spitting gravel and revving the engine and just making as much noise as they could.
The fact that he’d left me with his bike said a lot. He trusts me. Whatever strange relationship was blooming between us, whether it would be short-lived, or if it was over already, he’d decided he trusted me. That was a lot, coming from a former MC president.
The parking lot wasn’t full, but there were cars parked in maybe half the spaces. Anchor and Nomad rode in a doughnut circle in the middle of the space. Finally, his engine cut off, and I heard voices. I couldn’t see the front door, couldn’t see who they were talking to. I wanted to sneak closer but I was afraid to leave the bike. If Nomad came back to find me alone and the bike missing, he’d likely wring my neck.
A woman screamed. Shit. I knew from past experience, a woman screaming didn’t necessarily mean the fight would end badly or even that there’d be a fight at all. But it wasn’t a good sign, either. I rested my hand on the key. He left the key! Maybe he didn’t trust me - maybe he’d simply lost his mind.
I wish I could hear what they're saying. I definitely heard raised voices, now. Trouble.
BANG. I jumped. That was a fucking gun. I moved quickly. This wouldn't be my first gunfight. It was another lesson from my youth - violently tamp down your panic. I turned the key, clipped my helmet back on, revved the engine, kicked up the stand, and burst through the branches in front of me. I should have been more worried about the guns, but all I was thinking was "Don't scratch the bike."
Old Man's Ride: Dust Bowl Devils MC Page 3