HOT as F*CK

by Scott Hildreth

She glanced up and grinned. “Well, that and the entire take charge of me sexually thing,” she said.

  I nodded my head, satisfied she was proving to be the woman I so desired. As I considered reminding her we were leaving, she slowly walked in front of me and toward the bike. She turned her head to the side, her eyes locked on mine as she walked by.

  I wanted to pull her close, wrap my hand around her neck, and kiss her until she melted into a puddle on the floor. As I felt my cock rising against the fabric of my jeans, I pushed my hand into my pocket and resituated myself. I pointed toward the motorcycle as I turned away.

  “Get on the bike and wait for me. I’m going to go wash my hands,” I said as I turned away from her.

  “Okay,” she responded as she carefully positioned herself on the back of the bike.

  I walked into the kitchen and washed my hands. To my satisfaction, my swollen cock relaxed and became much less of an eyesore. As I gazed out the kitchen window and into the yard, my mind slowly drifted to thoughts of Em, and eventually migrated to tying her to my bed and teasing her. Within a few seconds, I felt myself becoming aroused again. I turned the faucet on again, and splashed my face with cold water. After a moment of attempting to regain control of my wandering mind, I dried my hands and face and turned toward the garage.

  Typically, once my mind was made up, it was difficult for me to change my way of thinking, and it appeared my mind was made up. Em was a woman I was interested in attempting a relationship with. As I stepped into the garage she was still sitting on the back of the bike with her hands on her thighs, waiting patiently for me to return.

  “Ready?” she asked, grinning as she spoke.

  “I think so,” I responded.

  I felt myself begin to become aroused again. As my stiffening dick rose to attention, I pressed against it with the palm of my hand. I threw my leg over the seat and positioned my feet on the controls as I started the engine. As the engine warmed up to speed, I glanced down at my steadily rising jeans.

  And, in all honesty, I was ready.

  Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Eight

  EMILY

  June 13, 2006

  We had ridden for some time, and the air cleaner never rattled. After a long period of wondering when we might stop, Jackson pulled over for a cup of coffee. We relaxed outside Starbucks in the early evening’s blazing sun, watching people walk in and out and talking about everything under the sun.

  Everything except whether or not we were making progress toward a relationship.

  As I baked in the sun and sipped my glass of mango tea, he sat in his chair and quietly watched people pass. I watched him intently as he studied the people coming and going, but I couldn’t tell what he was looking at unless he made a comment about it. Knowing what he was thinking was another thing altogether, he was impossible to read. As I sat and waited for the next word to spring from his lips, it became very apparent I wanted more from him.

  Much more.

  “I don’t like not seeing your eyes,” I said without looking up from my glass of tea.

  “Too fucking sunny to take ‘em off,” he said as he waved his hand toward the western sun.

  I nodded and gazed down at my glass.

  He tilted his head in my direction.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  I nodded my head reluctantly, leaned forward, and sucked the remaining iced tea through my straw. Still slightly disappointed at our lack of progress, I stood from my seat, grabbed my empty glass, and turned toward the trash can. As I walked toward the corner of the building, the sound of motorcycles caught my attention, and I shifted my eyes toward the noise and out into the street. Two men wearing leather vests similar to Jackson’s were slowing down in traffic to enter the parking lot. I tossed my empty cup into the trash and quickly turned around.

  Although I hadn’t realized it, Jackson somehow had positioned himself immediately behind me. As I turned to face him, he reached up, gripped my neck lightly, and pushed me into the wall of windows which separated the patio area from the inside of the coffee shop. With my back pressed firmly to the glass and his hand gripping my neck, he pushed his sun glasses on top of his head and leaned in for a kiss.

  I opened my mouth slightly and waited, feeling like a complete novice and hoping my knees would continue to hold me up. This was at least one of the moments I had been waiting desperately to arrive, but for some reason I had no idea what to do, and time seemed to be standing still.

  Our lips finally met, and as they did I closed my eyes. He kissed me aggressively, pressing himself against me fully as his tongue explored my mouth. He kissed me deeply and passionately, biting my upper lip each time he pulled away for another breath. The waiting for this moment and the weeks of longing for his embrace all came rushing from me in an instant, and as all of the uncertainty of the first kiss escaped me, my pussy began to throb.

  His free hand gripped my butt cheek and his fingertips sank deep into the skin of my inner thigh. My entire body started to tingle as I fought to stay on my feet. My head started to spin, my stomach went into a mild frenzy, and he continued to kiss me as passionately as I had always expected women in some corner of the world were being kissed by someone who loved them.

  But that person had never been me.

  As the passage of time slowed to a point that seconds seemed like a lifetime, our mouths parted. He bit my upper lip lightly and released it. I opened my eyes and glanced upward. As our eyes met, he narrowed his slightly, and the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk. His hand still gripping my neck, he squeezed with a little more force as if to remind me he was the one in charge.

  He leaned back and studied me.

  “God damn, Killer, get a fuckin’ room,” a voice behind me growled.

  Still gazing into my eyes, he lifted his free hand in the air as if to silence his friend. As they stood at our side staring, his eyes never shifted away from mine. His intensity was apparent, and it was ten-fold of what I had previously witnessed. He tightened his grip on my neck and tilted his head to the side ever so slightly.

  He released my neck and slid his hand upward slowly. As the web of his hand met my chin, he squeezed ever so slightly, resting his thumb along my jaw and his index finger on my cheek. As he lightly tapped the tip of his finger against my face, his eyes widened a little.

  “You’re mine,” he breathed.

  The moment I waited for was upon me. I had considered all of the possibilities of when and where it might happen, and rehearsed what I would say and do when the time arrived that he realized we were going to take the next step. At that moment, as I gazed into his eyes, my mind was blank and I was an emotional disaster. Incapable of speaking, I swallowed heavily and simply nodded my head.

  “Mine,” he repeated as his finger tapped lightly against my cheek.

  My eyes fell closed and I nodded my head in agreement, satisfied I was nothing less than his. As I felt the tip of his finger tracing along my jaw, I wondered what was next. Where I was and who I was surrounded by mattered not one bit. As the anticipation of what was to come built inside of me, his hand gripped my neck once again and he pushed me into the glass.

  As he pressed his lips against mine, my mind drifted away. At that moment, as he kissed me, I knew very little, but I knew one thing for certain.

  He was absolutely right.

  And as odd as it might have seemed to a conventional woman, Jackson had somehow taken ownership of a very large portion of my heart.

  And nothing else mattered.

  Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Nine

  JACK

  June 20, 2006

  In the two weeks since I had met Em, my thoughts regarding attempting a relationship with her had changed from considering it to doing it. I had never moved so fast making a decision about anything in the past, but I always believed with matters of the heart, when the time comes it comes. To resist what feelings naturally developed between two responsible adults seemed foolish and slightly selfish. Acti
ng on my desires was beyond satisfying, and Em was quickly proving herself to be exactly what I had so deeply desired.

  What little time I had spent with my club brothers since meeting Em was littered with thoughts of her and uneducated guesses at what the future might hold for us. I hoped for the best, prepared for the worst, and felt guilty for the time I was spending with her - but found no way to reduce or set aside my need for her companionship.

  I had ridden with Hell’s Fury Motorcycle Club for roughly ten years. The club provided me a family - something I had never known as a child. Although there were men in the club I didn’t care for as much as others, I accepted them all as my brothers. Some men were better than others - at least in my eyes - and Sarge was one of those men. He was an intense man of much greater than average size, and the sound of his voice alone intimidated almost all who didn’t know him. The remaining few were terrorized by his menacing appearance.

  Covered from head to toe in tattoos, his long brown and gray beard stood in complete contrast to his cleanly shaven head. A little more than six feet tall, and tipping the scales at over two hundred and fifty pounds, he wasn’t a man many would attempt to argue with. His position as President of the club was not only where he believed he belonged, but where the club needed him the most. Considering the savagery of a typical member of Hell’s Fury, knowing Sarge had clawed his way through every single one of them to make it to the top made his position on the presidential pedestal an honorable one. His only life was the club, and the decisions he made regarding the club, club business, and his many brothers were all made with the best of intentions.

  “So, what’s the deal with the skinny little bitch, Killer?” he growled.

  “Just feeling her out and seeing if she’s capable,” I responded as I raised my hand in the air and waved toward the waitress.

  “Capable? Of fucking what? Being around the fellas? Shit, bring her around and see how she acts. You’ll know in a quick minute,” he said.

  I felt no real need to provide Sarge with details of our quickly developing relationship, and intended to merely extract his opinion on a few matters that were beginning to bother me. I had never been one to share my sexual experiences with my brothers in the club. Many of the men, and most bikers for that matter, took great pride in sharing their sexual escapades with anyone who would listen. Some of the men held their women, and their stories, as a trophy. I, on the other hand, viewed my life with a woman as sacred, and something she and I shared together. Providing the time we spent together in the form of a story to any or all who might care to listen would cheapen the relationship, making me question if it was for all the wrong reasons. As a result, I chose to keep my experiences and feelings regarding women to myself.

  “No, she’ll be fine around the fellas, just seeing if I think she can put up with my shit,” I responded as the waitress leaned over the table.

  “Two more?” she asked.

  I nodded my head. “You hungry?”

  “Look at me? Do you really need to ask that question?” he asked.

  “I’ll have a burger. The biggest one you’ve got. Lettuce, tomato, pickles. No cheese,” I said.

  “Fries?” she asked.

  “Fuck no, he ain’t gonna eat fries. Look at him. He’s afraid he’ll end up looking like me. He eats like a high school girl on her first date. Bring me two burgers and his fries,” Sarge said.

  “I’ll bring the beers right back, burgers will be a few minutes, we make ‘em fresh,” she explained.

  “Sounds good,” I said.

  “So what’s the problem? Why are we here again?” Sarge asked as he reached for his beer.

  “Lucky. He keeps going on and on about guns. Motherfucker keeps asking everyone what they’ve got, and what they’re going to bring to our annual shoot out at Chili’s place. The other night he was asking if anyone had machine guns and shit, the motherfucker makes me nervous. Just seems a little too eager to get in everyone’s business,” I explained.

  Lucky was a huge concern, but not my main concern. I really wanted Sarge’s opinion about my previous relationships, his thoughts on karma, and whether or not he believed the deaths of my previous two love interests were a result of my having been bitten by karma. I didn’t, however, want to come right out and say it. A weakness regarding women, at least in Hell’s Fury’s eyes, was grounds for questioning a man’s sincerity with the club.

  “Well, Spike vouched for him,” Sarge said as he raised his beer bottle. “Guess they’ve known each other for a bit. Been with us for what? Almost two years now? Seems he irritates some of the fellas, but others like him just fine. Just like everyone else, I suppose, he’ll have his friends and his enemies.”

  I pursed my lips and tightened my jaw as I studied the label on my bottle of beer.

  “More to it than that?” Sarge asked.

  I glanced at the waitress as she slid two bottles of beer across the table and turned to walk away. As she disappeared toward the back of the bar, I shifted my focus to Sarge and shook my head.

  “Guess not. If you’re not worried about him, I’m not either,” I said.

  “Now god damn it, Killer. If you’re worried,” he hesitated and leaned forward.

  As he cocked one eyebrow, he continued, “I’m worried.”

  “I’ll just say this. If the cock sucker keeps asking to come over to my place and look at my guns, I’m going to knock his ass out,” I said as I reached for my beer.

  “Fucker might just be a gun nut,” he said as he slowly raised the other eyebrow.

  “And he might be some nosy prick who’s looking to come rob me some night when I’m not home. Fucker makes me nervous, and not many motherfuckers do. That’s all I’m saying,” I said as I lifted my bottle of beer to my lips.

  Sarge relaxed into the back of the booth and crossed his arms in front of his massive chest. After glaring at me for a short moment, he cocked his head to the side. “So you wanted to meet for a beer to tell me Lucky’s a nosey fucker? What the fuck else is going on?” he asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders as I slid my empty beer bottle toward the end of the table. “Fuck I don’t know.”

  He sat and stared in apparent disbelief.

  “You believe in karma?” I asked.

  “Now we’re headed for the rest of the story,” he chuckled as he slid to the center of the booth.

  He nodded his head as he reached for his beard. As he stroked the long strands of hair in his hands, he grinned.

  “Sure do, why?” he asked.

  “You know, my two Ol’ Ladies, they both passed away. Hell, neither of them was thirty years old, just seems kind of weird when you stop and think about it. You know, for a man to go through losing two Ol’ Ladies in five or six years. Whatever it’s been,” I said as I reached for my bottle of beer.

  “No disrespect, Killer, but you thinking they both had it coming? Or are ya thinking your fate is sealed, based on what you’ve done in the past?” he asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Well, you asked, so gimme your opinion. I know you got one or you wouldn’t of asked in the first fucking place,” he said as he took a drink of beer.

  “The girl I gave a ride home from the bar the other night, when we met at Joe’s. She and I been fucking around and spending some time together, and I just got to thinking. What if my future with anything or anyone is sealed from what I’ve done in the past. You know, what if God’s position on how I’ve lived my life is way different than mine? Hell, I think I’ve been pretty damned good at making sure I don’t cross those lines. Doesn’t mean the man upstairs agrees,” I paused and shrugged my shoulders.

  He nodded his head and continued to massage his beard in his fingers as the waitress walked up with our food.

  “Here we go, One half pound burger,” the waitress said as she placed a plate in front of me.

  “And two half pound burgers and fries,” she said as she handed Sarge his plate.

  “Condiments are
right there,” she said as she pointed to the wire basket at the end of the table, “Anything else?”

  I shook my head, “Appreciate it.”

  She grinned and walked away.

  I pushed my plate to the side and continued, “So we’ve either got two really strange circumstances, or one undeniable case of being bit by karma.”

  Sarge picked up one of his burgers, held it in front of his face, and after a long pause, sighed.

  “You’re a good solid motherfucker. A lot of the fellas ain’t. Hell, some of them are just plain shitty assed dudes, but you ain’t one of ‘em. And you ain’t one of ‘em because you think before you make a move. Sometimes you make a decision pretty fucking quick, but you always think before you act. So,” he paused and took a bite.

  After chewing and swallowing the mouthful of food, he continued, “What it gets down to is this: is your head full of what’s good or what’s bad. I think we both know the answer to that, Killer.”

  Sarge was the type of man to say exactly what he thought. I had always believed I stood for what was right - at least in my mind - but often wondered what others thought of me. Being known as a man who was quick to stand up for what I believed in didn’t necessarily make my beliefs just or morally acceptable to all.

  “So you think their deaths are coincidental?” I asked as I slid my plate in front of me.

  He shook his head as he took another bite. “Nope,” he said as he chewed.

  After he swallowed, he took a drink of beer, “Fuck, nothing’s coincidental. Shit happened for some kinda reason. Don’t mean the reason’s something that has to do with you and the way you’ve lived your life in the past. So you’re worried if you make that little gal your Ol’ Lady something’s gonna happen? Karma’s gonna get ya?”

  I shrugged my shoulders as I reached for my burger, “Something like that.”

  Sarge shoved the last bite into his mouth and shook his head.

  I bit into my mine wondering if I could mentally accept the loss of another woman in my life. As I focused on my food and attempted to clear my mind, Sarge pushed his plate to the side and continued.