Old Man's Ride: Dust Bowl Devils MC

by Britten Thorne

  I locked my eyes with him as I stroked my clit. My gaze didn’t last long - my eyes fluttered as I undulated my hips; grinding against him, with his cock throbbing so hot and so hard inside me, with my fingers dancing across my sensitive button, I brought myself over the edge in mere moments. I threw my head back and cried out as all my muscles clenched and quivered. Delicious shivers of ecstasy spread outwards from my convulsing pussy. It gripped him tight; a throaty groan escaped through his clenched teeth.

  And then my world spun. He lifted me before I’d recovered my bearings and placed my on my back, somehow remaining buried to the hilt.

  “Beautiful,” he said. He looked down at me with something like awe. “Unbelievable.” He kissed me, deeply, possessively. Like he was branding my lips. Then he began to move. He rocked into me with slow, deep plunges, and my walls gripped him tight. “So tight. Fuck.” His rhythm increased, and he bared down harder. I dug my fingers into his back, urging him on, but he wasn’t having it. Wordlessly, he took both my wrists in one hand and pinned them over my head. He didn’t need to say anything; I knew what he wanted. He wanted to use my body for his pleasure. He wanted me to take it, to submit to it.

  I wriggled below him. “Yes,” I breathed, “Take me, Nomad. Give it to me.” He grunted and doubled his efforts. He wasn't kidding, I thought, remembering how he’d swore he’d fuck me hard. He entered me again and again with violent force. I writhed with a wild abandon, tilting my pelvis and locking my legs around his back, taking him deeper yet. I tried to yank my hands free, but he was immovable. I had no influence on his pace, his angle, anything at all. And I loved it.

  I could feel a climax building once again. Holy shit. His free hand attacked my clit. He rubbed it in a slow circle as he pounded away. His eyes bore into me, watching what he was doing to me as he brought me closer and closer to the edge. “Who do you belong to?” he growled.

  I swallowed. “You. I’m yours, Nomad. Please…”

  “Please what?”

  “Let me come again?”

  He slapped my clit. I yelped - the pain was sharp and unexpected, and the thrill of it nearly made me orgasm right then. The only thing holding it back was the fact that he hadn’t given me the word.

  No words at all. He rubbed another slow circle around my clit, then struck again, though his thrusting never faltered. The smack made my whole body jerk.

  “Please, Nomad,” I breathed. I knew he had to be close himself. His own breathing was irregular; sweat dripped from his brow.

  “Come with me,” he growled, “Now!” He slapped my clit one more time, and I exploded. My throat caught as it hit me. My inner walls clenched and released his furiously pounding shaft, over and over, pulling him over the edge with me. He roared and panted with his pleasure as his hot seed filled me deep inside. He held me tight against him, his body jerking as his cock pulsed, emptying.

  We collapsed on the couch in a heap, me on my back and he on his side, resting against the backrest. It was several long moments before either of us caught our breaths enough to speak again.

  “That settles it,” he said, “I’m taking you home with me.”

  I smiled. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Then I don’t need to wait around for your mom to leave before I can fuck you. It makes me feel old.”

  I laughed. “I was thinking about getting my own place.”

  “I don’t want to stop you if that’s what you want. But I want to take you home.” He touched the bruise on my face with a grimace. “Maybe I can do a better job of keeping you from getting into trouble.”

  I snorted. “That was your son. Fuck. What’s he going to think if I move in with you?”

  “Gunner can get bent. I didn’t raise him to act like this.” He sighed. “His brothers aren’t like that. I don’t know where I went wrong with him.”

  “Shh,” I said, smoothing his white hair. “My mother raised me to be meek and quiet. Some of us are just born one way and can’t be changed.”

  He chuckled. “That’s almost wise for a young thing like you. No wonder you rejected Gunner. And for that matter, Bill and the rest of those guys. You’re too smart for them.”

  “Hey,” I said, “That sort of talk will go straight to my head. You said yourself I’ve already got too much ego.” I laughed. “So cut it out.”

  I could have laid there and bantered with him all evening. Or better yet, gone back to his place, fucked again, and bantered the rest of the evening. But my house phone rang. “The machine will get it,” I said.

  My mother’s voice sounded out of the answering machine from the kitchen, “Veronica and Lily aren’t home, please leave a message!” Then we heard Bill. “Nomad,” he barked, “You aren’t home and you ain’t picking up your cell. So I’m betting you’re there. Pick up. Now.”

  Nomad launched off the couch, nearly toppling me in the process. He answered the phone in the kitchen. I could still hear Bill’s end as it played through the machine. “Nomad,” he said, “Eagles were spotted downtown. I need you to take a couple guys down there to scare them off.”

  “Why me? You’ve got enough people around tonight, don’t you?”

  “Because the Eagles are afraid of you, now,” he replied. “I want them to see your face in town. I’m sending Anchor out to the highway to patrol, too.”

  Nomad sighed heavily. “All right. On my way.”

  “See you there, old man.”

  They hung up. I scrambled off the couch and grabbed our clothes. “How can I help?” I asked.

  “Can’t. You haven’t been Prospect long enough for a job like this.” He dressed quickly, pulling on his jeans as he walked off to retrieve his boots.

  “For real?” I asked. “You’re not just trying to protect me, are you?”

  “For real. You can give me Gunner’s gun, though.”

  I retrieved it from a drawer in the kitchen, calling over my shoulder, “What about Whitney?”

  “She doesn’t live downtown.” I didn’t realize he’d followed me; he suddenly embraced me from behind, pulling me tight against his chest and resting his chin on my head. “Pack a few things,” he murmured, “I’ll pick you up later or in the morning. Whenever we’re through.”

  I sighed contentedly and relaxed into him. “Okay,” I said, holding his arm around me and smiling. That simple gesture made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I wasn’t ready to start thinking far into the future about this, but I could sink into the moment, enjoy being with him. And move in with him?

  Maybe. He spun me around and assaulted my mouth with another intoxicating kiss. Though brief, it left me wanting to agree to anything at all. “See you soon.” He winked as he left.

  I paused by the front door. My mind was in a fog; a post-orgasmic haze of fulfillment and elation. But something was nagging at me. Something we’d just talked about only a moment ago.

  What was it? Something about the Eagles…

  Whitney.

  I grabbed my jacket. Then, hovering in the living room, trapped in a moment of indecision, I cursed at myself. You don’t let fear get the better of you. Cut it out. Move. I retrieved my gun.

  ---

  I parked my mother’s car a block away from Whitney’s house and jogged the rest of the way, hand at the hilt of the gun tucked into my belt. Nomad was probably right - no one was here. Whitney was fine. She was just some girl, anyway. While the Eagles would definitely seek revenge on the Dust Bowl Devils for the shootout at their strip club and for stealing her away, I couldn’t imagine they’d care one way or the other what actually happened to her.

  On the other hand, we could be wrong.

  My blood ran cold when I spotted the two bikes parked at the edge of her driveway. They were not the Devil’s signature purple and black. They were pure black, and had beaks affixed to the centers of the handlebars. Fuck, I knew it. Shit shit shit. I pulled out my cell phone and typed “eagles at whitney house” with shaking fingers, then sent the text to every number I had - my mom
, Bill, a couple of the other guys. Nomad. I knew most of them would never check it in time, but I only needed one to get through and get the army of them on the road.

  Now what? I heard a scream inside the house. Did they only just arrive? Is her dad home?

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I checked the message - it was from Mom. “Couldn’t reach Bill,” it read, “Gunner and co are on the way.”

  Great, just who I wanted to see. My problems with him weren’t important, though - all that mattered was that help was coming. But how to hold the Eagles here?

  I could disable their bikes. I cursed myself for bringing a gun when I could have used something sharp to puncture their tires silently instead. I’d have to figure something else out. Ducking low, I made my way over to the two motorcycles. I crouched next to the first one and peered at the ignition system. Maybe I could yank a few wires? Which ones? Oh, God. I know nothing. Another scream from inside the house, and the front door swung open. Whitney was shoved out onto the stoop. No time anyway. I pulled my gun and, moving quickly, shot the front tire. The bang! was much louder than I expected. I was completely unprepared and nearly fell over. I should have practiced using this fucking thing. Moving quickly and ignoring the ringing in my head, I turned and fired at the second bike. I saw more than heard the ping as the bullet struck closer the handlebars than the tires. I fired once more and it hit home, slamming into the tire and causing it to begin to deflate. Success!

  I heard shouting, and I wondered why they weren’t firing. I peeked around the side of the motorcycle. Two unfamiliar bikers stood at the front of the house aiming their guns toward me. One of them held Whitney by her elbow. Northern Eagles. Why aren’t they firing?

  The bikes. They didn’t want to damage their bikes. The bigger guy barked, “Get the fuck out here! We can see you, motherfucker!”

  “Drop your gun, shithead!” the blonde guy, the one holding Whitney, shouted at me.

  I waved my gun above the bike’s seat. “You drop yours, asshat!”

  Both of their guns lowered at the sound of my voice. “A girl?” the blonde asked the taller guy, “A fucking girl?”

  “Let my friend go!” I yelled. I just had to stall them long enough for Gunner to arrive. That was all.

  “I didn’t sign up to shoot no girl,” the blonde guy said to his friend.

  “We’re coming down to talk!” the tall guy called. He left the porch and walked towards the bikes, his blonde friend dragging a struggling Whitney behind him.

  “Don’t come any closer!” I fired into the air. “I will fuck up your bikes beyond belief!”

  The tall guy pointed his gun at Whitney. “And I’ll shoot your friend, bitch! Now drop your weapon and get out here!”

  Stall stall stall. I could just about hear engines in the background over the ringing in my ears - that meant that the two guys could definitely hear them coming. They knew they were on limited time. I just have to convince them not to shoot us. I rubbed my eyes with my fists, hard. I loosened the reigns on my fear; my breathing came more rapidly. I even worked up a few tears as I stood.

  “Please don’t shoot her,” I said. I held my hands up, allowing the gun to dangle from one. With my voice high-pitched, squeaky, I begged, “Please don’t hurt her. I’m sorry. Take me with you, too, just don’t hurt my friend.” I sniffled.

  “Lower your gun, man,” the blonde said, placing himself between the tall man and Whitney.

  The tall guy looked around. listening to the approaching motorcycles and trying to pinpoint their direction. “We’ve got to go,” he said. He pointed at me. “Drop the weapon.” I took my time. I bent and placed it on the ground, shaking as badly as I could manage, whimpering, putting on a real show. I stumbled as I stood, choking out little sobs. He grabbed me by my collar. “Prospect?” he asked with an eyebrow raised. He shook his head. “I knew the Devils had low standards, but Jesus.” He released me with a shove. “On the bike.” Fuckers don’t know I shot the tires. What the hell did they think I was doing? He retrieved my gun as he climbed onto the seat in front of me. Whitney shot me a panicked look, but I kept my face screwed up and tearful.

  The motorcycle roared to life; they revved their engines and turned their bikes around in the street. I heard the blonde man curse behind us as we circled. “Bitch shot the tires!” he called.

  “Fuck!” The tall guy switched off the bike, right there in the middle of the road. He was sunk and he knew it.

  “Got you, motherfuckers.” I couldn’t resist the dig. It was a truly stupid thing to say, but I hated the scumbags and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

  “Let’s run!” the blonde called. He’d already shoved Whitney to the asphalt and had parked his bike on the side of the road, as if the thing still had a chance of escaping unscathed. The Devils would burn it once they had their hands on the thing.

  “And leave our bikes? And the girl? Are you fucking stupid?”

  The blonde shrugged. “I’ll be fucking alive!” He took off running. The tall man cursed. He turned and grabbed me around the throat. “I ought to kill you right now,” he snarled.

  “No!” Whitney screamed, “Let her go!”

  “You don’t have time,” I hissed. I could hear the motorcycles rounding a corner somewhere behind me; the look on the Eagle’s face told me that he could see them. He hurled me the ground with a roar.

  I hit hard. My head bounced once before I settled, and my vision swam. Three motorcycle went screaming past, presumably chasing after the two Eagles, and one pulled to a stop. I coughed and tried to push myself up, but a wave of dizziness stopped me.

  “Prospect.” Gunner. Great. A pair of hands closed on my upper arms and pulled me so I was sitting upright. He crouched in front of me. “Hey.” I could hear shouting up the street. No guns, though. Maybe the guys had surrendered.

  “You got them?” I asked, looking at the ground. “Where’s Whitney?”

  “Hey!” He slapped me. My hand shot up to my cheek, and my eyes locked on his.

  “What the fuck?”

  I thought he was going to hit me again as he reached back, and I shrank away. Instead, he brought up a flashlight and shined it in my eyes. “Sorry,” he said, “Need to make sure you’re still with us.”

  I rubbed my cheek. “I’m fine. I was fine.”

  “Lily! Girl, you are unbelievable! I nearly pissed myself when I heard you behind those bikes!”

  I looked up. Whitney stood above us in a bathrobe. Aside from some scrapes on her knees, she looked just fine. “You’re okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah. You showed up just in a time. You’re a madwoman, Lily, I swear to God.”

  Gunner waved her away. “Okay, Whitney, back off. She hit her head.”

  “She gonna be okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I stood. Or, I tried to stand. I wobbled on the way up, and Gunner grabbed my elbow. Between the ringing in my ears and the blow to the head, I felt horribly off-balance. Almost drunk, but without the fun and pleasant buzz.

  Gunner sighed heavily. “You did good, Prospect,” he said. He sounded like he hated to admit it, but he was admitting it.

  “Thanks,” I said. I looked up the road. The two Eagles had been subdued and were sitting on the curb. “I want my gun back!” I shouted up the street, and immediately regretted it as it exacerbated the pounding in my head. “Fuck.”

  “Okay, girly. Sit back down. You can go home when you can stand.” He helped me take a seat on the curb. “Dad will be here soon.” Again, he sighed, unhappy with the situation but coming to accept it.

  “Thanks, Gunner,” I said. I wasn’t going to forget what he’d done to my face. No way. But I’d still need his vote. If this doesn’t drag the vote out of him, nothing will.

  I realized it, then. I wanted to be a member. I wanted to be a Devil. I could take the good with the bad, because the good meant doing things like this - keeping people like Whitney safe. I was entangled in this life whether I liked it or not. At least I could do somethin
g positive with it.

  I heard the second group of motorcycles approach, watched the men hop off and remove their helmets. Bill, his VP, and Nomad. I nearly teared up when I saw him rushing towards me, his face drawn, pale with concern. The adrenaline was leaving my body, leaving me vulnerable. He dropped to his knees and I collapsed against his chest with a heavy sigh.

  “She saved the day again, Bill!” I heard Whitney call from the lawn. “She may as well be my guardian angel at this point.”

  Bill only grunted as he approached Nomad and I. Then, seeing how we embraced, he grunted again. “Prospect.”

  Nomad released me and I sat back and looked up. “Bill.”

  “That was a stupid move, kid.”

  “Would you say that if I was a man, Bill?”

  He snorted. “If you were a man, they probably would have just shot you.” He shook his head. “You’ve got a few years of work as a Prospect ahead of you, but you’ve secured a load of votes tonight. I thought this would be a big joke. Hell, I thought it was funny. But now…” he gestured at my jacket. “Do you really want this?”

  I looked from him to Nomad and back again. “I do.”

  “All right.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m not in love with the idea, but you’ll be the first lady Devil in thirty years. Nomad and I will see to it.” Nomad squeezed my hand. “Take her home, old man. And do us a favor? Try not to make her your official old lady before she’s a full member?”

  Nomad chuckled. Further down the street, there was a huge whoosh. The two Eagle’s motorcycles went up in flames. The Devils cheered around the flaming vehicles. Even from our distance, the flames were hot on my face. I shielded my eyes as I watched.

  “I’ll expect you both at the clubhouse for breakfast,” Bill said as he walked away to join the other men, “We’ll need to make sure everyone’s got their stories straight.”