He was planning on riding it home, taking a few easy days for the trip between Longview and Chicago. Sitting alongside his new bike on the truck bed was an eye-catching little Sportster 883 Iron XL, black and sleek, with plenty of shiny chrome. It was the right kind of bike for a beginner, and the perfect size for a woman. Tug assured him she wanted to learn how to ride, so now he just had to talk Mica into riding it home for him.
Mica looked at Mason and grinned; the bikes were so pretty, and she couldn’t wait to ride with him on the back of that black and blue one. The little one was gorgeous too, and she wondered what he was doing with two bikes.
“Did you buy these, Mason? Are you shipping them home?” She grinned. “They are both so beautiful.”
He reached out and tapped her shoulder with his fist, and she rocked herself sideways like he’d really slugged her; it was one of their many familiar jokes with each other. Stepping towards the bikes, which were now offloaded and parked in the driveway, he said over his shoulder, “I’m riding the Road King home.”
Dragging his hands up the seat, he stroked the black leather and rubbed his fingers across the emblem on the side of the gas tank. He turned and grinned at her. “I think it’s time for a road trip.”
She shouted with laughter. “You are fondling the bike, Mason. Get a room.”
Essa clapped her hands. “Can I have a ride?”
Mason threw his head back and chuckled. “Sure, little girl, grab the small helmet and jacket from the backseat of my car.”
Mica frowned; he was giving Essa a ride on his new bike before her? That didn’t feel right. Molly walked up and was touching the smaller bike, twisting the throttle and pretending to make motor noises. That pissed her off a little bit, and Mica frowned harder. What was wrong with her?
Essa came back with the helmet on her head and started shrugging into the leather jacket, when Mason stopped her. “Hold on, Essa. Mica rides first, okay?” With that, the bands of anxiety that had been wrapping tightly around her chest eased, and Mica took a deep breath, finally walking towards Mason and the bike.
Smiling brightly at her cousin, Essa handed her the jacket and then the helmet. Mason was already straddling the bike, his hand out waiting for her to reach for him.
She smiled, nodding her head. She laid her hand trustingly in his, stepping up on the peg and swinging her leg over the seat. “Ready?” came the usual question over his shoulder as he pulled his beanie over his hair.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his back, nodding and saying, “Ready, Mason.”
“Hold on, babe,” was his response. “Here we go.”
He eased the bike down the gravel driveway, slowing and putting his feet down as they bumped carefully across the cattle guard at the end. Turning onto the country road, he held the speed at a moderate rate as they leaned and wove around the sharp corners.
She arched into Mason, resting her nose against his back. She kept her eyes peering just over his shoulder so she could see where they were going. Watching the shadows flash across the oil road in front of them, she started to relax. The trees were beginning to put buds and leaves on, and with the spring angle of the sun, all of the shadows were fuzzy and undefined.
There was a straight stretch of road, and he opened the throttle a little, making her grin. On impulse, she lightly bit into his back. She knew he couldn’t hear her growl as she tugged at him with her teeth, but she was giggling at herself over the playfulness she felt.
He jerked and turned his head, feigning a frown, but she could see the amusement in his eyes. It was in the way his jaw relaxed, and the lines of tension eased from his face.
It had been a long time since she’d seen that easy look on him. It made her feel guilty that she was the reason he had so often been sad or angry over the past few months. He had taken on so much for her, taken responsibility for things that should have never touched him. She could never repay him for what he had done for her, for the peace he gave her when he took away her worst fear.
Laying her head against his spine again, she tightened her arms around him. Pulling her hands forward with one of his, he tugged her tighter to his butt and thighs and then held her hand against his stomach.
Smiling softly, she pulled his hand around and put it on her thigh. She felt the warmth and strength of his grip as he wrapped it around her leg. Maybe Mason was her destiny. They’d circled around each other for years, coming together that one time last fall spectacularly. She loved him, but was it that kind of love?
His hand slid down her leg to her calf, and then back up, tracing her form absently it seemed. He patted her thigh and then put his hand back on the handlebars. He was leaning forward slightly in preparation for another curvy portion of the road.
She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the wind teasing her hair under the helmet, caressing her face. Her thoughts returned to two of them, but it didn’t seem right to be thinking about Mason that way. They were good friends, and if there was sexual tension sometimes, he’d made it clear he wanted a friendship; that was more important to him than almost anything.
His patted her hands again, and her eyes opened as they slowed. Sitting up and looking around, she saw they’d come to a highway and he was turning left, headed east on the road. She grinned and leaned into him again, resting against his strong back.
She wondered what Daniel was doing at this moment. Keeping up with him was fairly easy, since the Mallets had gotten into the AHL championship chase. Being the team captain, owner, and an important player, he was in a lot of articles. She knew he hadn’t started a new relationship and was glad. That would have hurt.
Did that mean she still had feelings for him? She nodded, answering her own question. Of course she did; love wasn’t something that was easy to displace once it had its roots in you. Daniel had been there to support her as much as she’d let him. She knew it wasn’t fair leaving like she did, but she had reasons. If he couldn’t get past everything, that was okay; she’d done it herself. It’s not like she needed the problems a relationship brings.
She kinda liked being responsible for only her own happiness, her own issues—shoot, her own laundry. If there were socks on the floor, they were hers. If she wanted to go out and buy a gas grill, there was no one to consult about the purchase. Of course, that meant there was no one there to celebrate with, either, no one to share with at the end of a day, good or bad.
Sitting up again as Mason slowed the bike, she saw they were turning onto another oil road. She knew there was a pretty lake up ahead, so when she saw the turnout coming up, she tapped his shoulder and pointed. Nodding, he pulled the bike over and parked, silence returning in a rush as the roar of the motor and pipes faded away.
Mica stepped off the bike, watching Mason touch it reverently. He was stroking the handlebars and tank as he put down the kickstand, carefully testing the stability before swinging his leg off. Waiting until he was done admiring the bike, she knew she had a huge grin on her face as he turned around. Grabbing his hands, she lifted up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “You’re cold, Mason,” she scolded as her lips touched his chilled face. He wrapped his arms around her like he had so many times before as she sighed. “Thank you, I needed this so much, Mason.”
He nodded, his head tight against hers. “Me too, babe.”
Lifting his head, he looked at the lake. “It’s pretty here,” he commented, turning towards the surrounding woods, “lots of trees.”
She laughed. “Yeah, it’s pretty, but it’s not home. Not any longer.”
He looked down at her, asking anxiously, “You ready to come home, babe? You are missed so much. Come home.”
Keeping that wide grin on her face, she teased, “Who misses me the most?” Biting her bottom lip, she shoved his arm with her fist.
He swayed with her in his arms, the amusement fading slowly from his face. “I want to say me, but I think there’s a guy who might edge me out of the running.”
&
nbsp; “Don’t. Please don’t, Mason,” she said angrily. “Don’t throw him at me like that. He didn’t want me anymore. I hurt him too badly, so just don’t.”
“Then tell me I’m wrong about your feelings for him, babe. Tell me you don’t love him.” He shook his head. “The two of you are meant to be together; I believe that.” Tightening his arms, he put a palm against the back of her head and tucked her close under his chin. “If I didn’t, I’d never let you go, but you need to see where this takes you.”
They stood like that for a long time, not speaking, not moving. Mason finally shifted his feet a little and cleared his throat. Mica grinned; that was one of the only ways to tell he was nervous, and he only did it before he talked about something that worried him. “So, Tug said you wanted to learn how to ride.”
Oh, no—now she thought she knew what the second bike was for. Blowing out her breath, she answered cautiously, “Yeah, he is going to teach me when the weather is good.”
Shifting slightly again, Mason waited a beat and then pointed out, “The weather is good now, babe.”
She grinned against his chest, knowing he couldn’t see her. “Yeah, the weather is good.”
Leaning back, Mason looked down at her face. “You already figured it out, didn’t you?”
Laughing out loud at the disappointed look on his face, she repeated, “Yeah, the weather is good.”
He grinned back at her. “I want to be the one to teach you, babe. Do you mind much if it’s me?”
She stepped away from him, standing along the edge of the dirt turnout where it sloped down to the lake’s edge. “How could I mind, Mason? This has always been our thing, but I didn’t think you’d be willing. Plus, what if I suck and can’t learn? I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
He scoffed. “Babe, I think you’ll be a natural. Want to head back and start now?”
Holding her hand up when he started to approach, she halted him after only a step towards her. “How long before we can leave to go home?”
Shrugging, he answered, “Depends, but as soon as tomorrow if you wanted.”
She nodded at him and smiled. “I want. Let’s go. Learn me, oh, Master of the Motorcycle.”
***
Four days later, they were pulling into a hotel just south of St. Louis, both ready for a break and a shower. Parking the bikes together in a space near the entrance, they stepped off and stretched, grinning at each other, because they were so closely in sync. “I’ll gather our stuff while you go check in,” Mica told him, flipping her braids over her shoulder and unbuckling the saddlebag on her bike to pull out clean clothes. She yelled at his back, “Find out who delivers, Prez. I’m starving.” She laughed to herself as he stopped short and turned back to her with a shocked look on his face.
Stalking back towards her, he asked tightly, “Did you just fucking call me Prez? Because that, Mica…babe…is off fucking limits.”
He spun on his heel and walked back to the hotel entrance, leaving her standing flatfooted in the parking lot trying to decide what had happened. She’d heard so many of the Rebel members call him Prez it seemed natural, like using his last name instead of Davis. Gathering up the things they’d need for an overnight stay and stuffing them into a bag, she started into the hotel, meeting him in the lobby.
He was silent as they went to the room. After he opened it and pushed the keycard into her hand, he shoved her inside, and as he was pulling the door closed, he said, “I’m next door.”
Confused, she looked at the door as it shut. They’d shared rooms since leaving Texas. Last night, they shared a bed, where he’d affectionately spooned her all night long. Something had gone badly wrong in the parking lot, and she didn’t understand what she’d done.
She dropped the bag with their stuff on the floor and scrabbled for the door handle, pulling it open to see an empty hallway. Shaking her head, she stepped to the next room and knocked quietly on the door. “Not now, Mica,” was the response from the room.
“What the hell, Mason?” she spoke into where the door closed in the frame.
“Not now, Mica,” came again more harshly, followed by silence.
“Oh, no you don’t, buddy.” Now she was yelling a little, pounding on the door with the flat of her hand. “You do not get to pull crap and then sulk in a room by yourself.”
The door ripped open and he was standing in the way, flexing and stretching one hand up to grab the top of the doorframe, growling out between his teeth, “Not now, Mica.” He’d already taken off his jacket and shirt, and was standing there naked from the waist up, the light dusting of hair on his chest setting off the defined muscles on his chest and arms. He wasn’t looking at her; instead, he was staring at the wall above her head.
She ducked under his arm and slipped quickly into the room, repeating, “What the hell, Mason?”
“Can you not simply leave something for once when I ask you to? Just once?” he yelled loudly at her. This wasn’t like him.
He pushed her to the wall, crowding her with his body. She felt the heat radiating from him all along her frame as he put his hands up on either side of her head. “Can you not simply fucking leave it alone?”
A few tendrils of hair had escaped her braid, and she brusquely shoved them out of her face and shouted back, “Not when you are acting like a butthole, and when I don’t know what I did wrong. Not when you are mad at me—I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me. No buddy, I can’t frickin’ leave it alone.”
He hit the wall beside her head hard with both hands, the crash making her jump and brush against him. “Fuck,” he growled and turned back to the middle of the room.
She took a step towards him, and he flung out a hand to the side, halting her before she took another step. “Talk to me, Mason. What did I do?” Twisting at the waist, he half-turned to look at her with an anguished look on his face. Oh, well, okay then. She’d seen this pose from him before, and now knew he was trying to hide an erection from her. “Mason, if you are…I’m…um…I’ll go.” Her face bright red, she escaped out to the hallway and then back into her room, leaning against the wall and sliding down to sit on the floor.
***
Mason groaned as the door closed quietly behind her. She had no idea the impact she had on him every single fucking day. Hearing her call him his club title had made him instantly hard; he couldn’t imagine being more aroused by anything. Then, it was totally devastating to remember she could never, would never be that person in his life. He was taking her back home for Daniel, not himself. He couldn’t act on anything he felt.
He couldn’t do any more than high-five her when he was so proud of her bravery, riding like a champ, even in thick traffic, or do more than sling an arm around her shoulders as they stopped to look at the view along the winding mountain roads through Arkansas. Anything more, and he was sporting a boner within seconds.
Yesterday, she’d worn a sundress, tucking it under her legs along the tank to keep it from billowing around her. He knew it was a bad idea, and not safe—she should’ve had leathers on, just in case—but he couldn’t deny himself the sight of her straddling the bike in that fucking dress once she put it on. He needed those memories, because that was all he would ever fucking have.
Sharing a bed with her last night, he had dreamed of her as he often did, caught up in memories of their one night together. He woke up pressed tightly against her back with a raging erection, which he got up and took care of. Carefully he had slid back into bed behind her not long before she awoke. Now, standing alone in a hotel room, he unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down, along with his boxer briefs; sitting for a minute on the edge of the bed, he removed his boots.
He adjusted himself several times, each touch causing him to groan and think about Mica—her mouth smiling at him in laughter, her grin as she conquered another mountain, her hands as she tugged the hem of her shirt down from where it blew up in the wind, her holding her hair in a one-handed ponytail as they ate an impromptu picn
ic.
Stripping off his clothes, he was headed into the bathroom when the connecting door between the rooms opened. “It wasn’t locked,” she said softly, stepping into the room.
He was unexpectedly angry at her. Why couldn’t she simply leave things alone? Sometimes she made it too difficult to be around her and still not have her. He decided to stop hiding from her; he wanted to force her to understand so she’d just fucking stop. Maybe she’d be too embarrassed to be around him. Maybe it would break their friendship. In this moment, he didn’t care, because he fucking wanted her.
Turning to face her, he reached down and gripped his cock tightly, feeling it twitch and jerk in his hand. He slowly stroked his thick shaft from root to tip with one hand, the other hand rubbing across his lower stomach lazily. Tipping his head back slightly, he let his hips thrust forward, stroking harder. Bringing his head up and looking at her, he said in a low voice, “You wanted to know what you did, babe? This,” he stroked again, “this is what you did. I fucking want you, Mica.”
He groaned, tipping his head back again. “I want your mouth, your hands. I want to be buried balls-deep inside you. I want to hear you call my name when you come.” Stroking faster, he confessed, “You are in my every fantasy. I stay hard constantly when I’m around you. I want you all the fucking time. You. I want you.”
Closing his eyes, he ran his callused fingers across his hardened nipples. “You wrap your legs around my ass on the bike, and I get hard. You ride beside me, and I get hard. You fucking bite my back, and I nearly come in my pants.”
Leaning his shoulders back against the wall, he shifted his feet to widen his stance and moved faster, his hips thrusting with every stroke. “You wear a fucking sundress on a bike, and I get hard. I want to love you like you deserve; I want to be your lover. Your one and only. I. Want. You.”
He didn’t hear her move, hadn’t heard a sound from her, so his eyes jerked open in surprise as he felt the heat of her small hand laying over his on his chest. She looked up at him, her bottom lip between her teeth. She put her other hand over his on his cock, stilling him mid-stroke.
Mica (Rebel Wayfarers MC) Page 35