by L. C. Dean
Jet Ryan leaned on the deck railing of the Easyriders Saloon. The human mass pulsed below, dancing to the beat of the eighties rock band dominating the stage at another bar down the street. The smell of leather and motorcycle tainted the air, accented by the stench of burnt rubber from the burnout pit some tire seller had set up across the way. Sturgis, South Dakota throbbed with the influx of bikers, tattoo artists, and vendors for the largest motorcycle rally in the world, and he wanted them all to get the fuck out of his hometown.
He sipped his whiskey and water and wondered again how he had let his buddies talk him into coming to town. Everywhere he looked, people swarmed like damned locusts. Half naked women strolled up and down the sidewalks while rowdy idiots hooted and hollered and took their pictures. Human beings packed too close together generated a stench no one should have to suffer. A man ought to be able to breathe without smelling some guy who hadn’t had a decent bath in nearly a week. The bikes were cool and the music not half bad, but crowds in general set his teeth on edge. He should have stayed at the ranch where he belonged.
“Jet!” His friend Luke slapped him on the back with a laugh. He had one arm draped around a hot young blonde in a barely there top and even smaller skin-tight shorts. “You look like someone shot your dog. Cheer up! It’s a party!”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m outta here in twenty minutes if not sooner.”
“God, when’d you become such a stick in the mud?”
Jet glanced at the woman and shook his head. “’Bout the time you became a man whore.”
Luke grinned and hugged the girl closer. “Don’t mind him, baby. He needs to get laid.” The two of them staggered toward the steps.
“I mean it, Luke. I’m going home!”
His friend just lifted his hand and waved.
Turning back to the show on Lazelle Street, Jet debated if he should wait to leave until people headed to the Chip and Full Throttle for the evening concerts. The traffic would be going in the opposite direction if he hung around for another hour or so.
A hand on his arm caught his attention a moment before the soft scent of feminine perfume pulled him from his musings. He turned to find the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, studying him. Long chestnut hair lay in a braid over her left shoulder, the tail curling above a perky breast covered in a skimpy bikini top. Well-done artwork started at the center of her chest and swept down and around, disappearing behind her back in a swirl of black-inked lace and blood-red roses. Intelligent dark brown eyes met his gaze head on. She had his attention without a word. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
A slow smile curled her lips. “Was your friend right?”
He couldn’t remember a damned thing Luke had said. “Right about what?”
Before she could answer, a drunk chick lurched toward them. “Oh, my God! What beautiful ink.” Clumsy fingers traced an intricate crimson rose.
Obviously tense about being touched without permission, the beauty stepped away with a scowl at the stranger’s familiarity. Jet didn’t think, merely caught the other woman’s wrist and stepped between the two. “It’s airbrushed, don’t rub it off.”
The girl started to protest, but her friends led her off to the next drink.
He turned back in time to catch the end of a sexy perusal.
“Are you always so gallant?”
“No. Sometimes, I’m a real prick.”
Her laugh awakened his cock with sudden and unexpected heat. “So, you didn’t answer my question. Was your friend right?”
“Because you didn’t answer mine. Right about what?”
“About needing to get laid?”
Is that a trick question? “I do all right if that’s what you’re asking.”
“It’s not. I want to know…do you want to fuck?”
Five-inch spike heels on her thigh-high boots put her head near his shoulder. Without them she’d be a tiny little thing, the kind of woman a man should take care of, except something told him she’d hold her own if she had to. His groin tightened at her crude invitation, but he chuckled and shot for casual rather than crass. “Shouldn’t you buy me a drink and laugh at a few of my jokes first?”
The smile widened, revealing even white teeth and lips designed to enclose a man’s dick. “I’m leaving tomorrow. I don’t have time for pretty bullshit. What do you say?”
“No thanks.” Jet downed the last of his whiskey and walked away. No matter how much he wished he could drag her to the nearest dark corner and drill her until she couldn’t walk straight, he didn’t make a habit of screwing strangers, especially not during bike week. A man could catch more than he bargained for. Just ’cause the woman looked clean and delectable as hell didn’t mean a thing. He detoured past the john on the way out then headed for his bike. He’d parked several blocks down, off the beaten path enough that he might have a chance of riding out of town without a hassle.
He heard a woman scream before he saw her. A guy, too smashed or high to know he was an ass, had her pinned to a tree. His hand snaked under her short skirt, and he slobbered on her slender throat. “I heard ya back there. I’ll fuck ya, gorgeous.”
Full blown rage flashed, instant and hot. The smaller man went sprawling into the street with a flick of Jet’s wrist. He stepped in front of the woman who had propositioned him, effectively hiding her petite form. “I suggest you go back to the party, buddy, before I have to teach you a manner or two.”
The man staggered away with a mumbled, “Fuck you.”
Turning, Jet touched her arm to steady her on the precarious heels. “You okay?”
She rolled her big eyes and righted her clothing while he mentally stripped her naked. “I could have handled him.”
“I’m sure you could have.” With a snort at the ludicrous statement and his own less-than-courteous response to her, he moved on but turned back. “You might want to head to Junction or Lazelle. It’s safer in the center of the action, even if you can take care of yourself.”
She flew him the bird and bent from the waist to straighten her fuck-me boots. “When I need your help, I’ll ask for it.”
His cock rose to full attention at the sight of her rounded ass peeking from beneath the short leather skirt. Was she stupid or just stubborn? He stormed back and grabbed the girl’s arm, pulling her down the street toward the bright lights. “If you want to get fucked, that’s one thing, but if you stay out here, dressed like a two-bit whore, you’re gonna get more than you bargained for. I’m not going to be responsible for you getting raped.”
Slapping at his arm, she tried to twist away. “Unless you’re doing the raping, I can’t see how it’s your business.”
He spun around and caught her wrist, jerking her against his chest. “You made it my business when you offered yourself in front of a balcony full of drunken men too far from their own realities to give a shit about right and wrong.”
She stilled as though his words had finally sunk in. Her eyes shone in the dim light.
“Are you crying?” He brought a hand up to cup her cheek.
“Hell no!” She tugged against his hold. “Let go of me!”
Jet moved away, hands spread wide. “You got it, honey. Have a good night.”
Before he could leave, he heard a sharp intake of air. “Answer a question for me first.”
He waited, uncertain what she wanted.
She wobbled, a bit unsteady on the high boots. “Why not?”
It was such a simple question. His cock wanted an answer; still he played dumb. “Why not what?”
She glared at him then looked down at her smoking hot body. “What’s wrong with me?”
Aw shit. He hated it when a woman pulled that crap. It never failed to get to him no matter how many times he told himself it was manipulative mumbo jumbo. “Not a thing and you know it. You’re just looking for some sap to tell you so.”
Her chin quivered for a moment before she flipped her braid over her shoulder. She had pretty breasts. Not huge but not tiny and t
hey stood up nicely with only the light strings of her top to hold them in place. “Does your mother know what an ass she raised?”
Jet closed the distance between them. “Does your daddy know you’re out here begging for a stranger’s cock?”
Her lower lip disappeared behind her top teeth. She looked about to burst into full blown tears, but her spine straightened and she blinked away the sign of weakness. “Fuck you and the fucking horse you rode in on, you sanctimonious prick.”
God, she was beautiful. So lush and vulnerable and spirited. He didn’t think of the consequences before he swept an arm around her waist and jerked her to his chest. Her high heels sent her stumbling against him. Jet captured her mouth before she could protest. He deepened the kiss, and the taste of chocolate and a hint of wine hit his tongue. With a groan he lifted her higher until his swollen cock pressed to her heat. She smelled and tasted sweeter than any woman he’d ever had. He couldn’t get enough. He wrapped her braid around his wrist and tugged her head back to gain greater access to her lips and throat. Rising to her toes, she rubbed against him and rewarded him with a soft cry.
He fought for breath, for reason, for anything besides the burning lust she fired inside him. He did not lose control, did not fall for the tricks of lovely, brown-eyed strangers no matter how sexy they were. But for her—for her he feared he would crawl across fire if it meant she would praise him for the effort.
Ink Monroe allowed herself to melt into his arms. She was tense, wound up, and horny as hell; the big, sandy-haired bastard would provide the perfect stress relief. Her emotions danced just below the surface after days of living on Mountain Dew, energy drinks, and no sleep. He kissed like she had imagined he would, slow and sexy and deep. She trembled. It had been a long time since a man paid attention to her. At least this kind of attention. Her rep as a quality tattoo artist brought many men to her door, but she wasn’t interested in them. Watching them whine and cry like little bitches beneath her needle repulsed her. Not all of them were babies, but few had the natural manliness of the biker in cowboy boots whose mouth wandered down her throat to nibble and lick at the sensitive curve. She groaned and arched against him, uncertain what had changed his mind yet unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Let’s take this to my trailer.”
“Where?”
“Around the corner.” He thrust his thigh between her legs then shifted her to ride his leg, intensifying the pressure against her clit. Her pussy quivered. “Now.”
Carefully, he stepped back and steadied her until she found her balance. “Lead on.”
She took his hand and tugged him down the street and two blocks over to where her camper was parked in the driveway of an old friend. After opening the door, she pushed him inside and locked it behind them. When she turned around, she caught him studying her setup. She’d replaced the dining booth with a reclining barber’s chair and the sofa with a massage table bolted to the floor. A tall, multi-drawer cabinet loaded with her colors and tools took up half of a small desk against the wall. All that remained of the original fifth-wheel camper, besides the raised bedroom and bathroom, was the tiny kitchen area with a sink, stovetop, and mini-fridge. He had to think she lived like a hobo. Not that she cared. She just wanted all that muscle under her while he pleaded for mercy, or above her as he pounded away the strain of long hours and crappy-assed food until she chose to allow him to get off. The idea of so much strength at her mercy pushed fatigue and loneliness off slightly. One night and she’d be good to go again for a while. She chuckled. “Home, sweet home.”
He looked enormous in her small place, and her pussy wept for a chance to see if he was equally massive everywhere. “What is all this? Do you give massages for a living?”
With a snort, she tossed her purse on the counter. “I’m a tattooist. Didn’t you see the sign on the side of the trailer, ‘Bella Ink’?” She gestured toward the book of original art on the desk. “Do you really care right now?”
His chuckle shot her libido into overdrive. “I’m more interested in seeing your body than your body of work.”
“Well, then you’re in luck ’cause I plan on showing it to you the moment you get naked.”
A wide grin made his mouth even more kissable. “Undress me.”
The command, issued in his deep and so sexy voice, flowed from his throat, and for a moment she hesitated. She wanted him suppliant beneath her, but he didn’t look like a man who would beg easily. Rather than giving in to him, she propped one foot on the seat of the barber’s chair and eased the zipper down. She hid her satisfaction when he groaned and stripped his shirt over his head. He had a broad chest with only a sprinkling of hair across firm pecs, enough to grab on to, but not enough to get in the way of feeling all that hot, smooth skin beneath her hands.
She tossed the first boot across the room and put her hands on her hips. “Jeans.”
“Nope. Your other boot first.”
Easing down the second zipper, she watched his startling blue-eyed gaze wander up her leg and back to the curve of her ass. Desire spun through her, swirling low in her stomach. She straightened, set the leather aside, and stood barefoot before him. “Jeans.”
He shucked his boots and pants like they were on fire. Every glorious inch of him screamed to be taken. Norwegian lineage tinted his blond hair and carved his features into a Viking god, while slick, golden brown skin begged to be tasted. Basic black briefs had never looked so good as the ones that clung to his narrow hips and cupped an impressive package. He dropped his socks on his jeans and quirked an eyebrow. “Will I do?”
Ink couldn’t stop a grin. “In a pinch.”
He caught her close with a laugh. One strong arm circled her waist while his free hand tugged on her braid. “You’re gorgeous, you know.”
Shaking her head, she tried to twist away. “Don’t give me pretty lies. I’m too tired for it. Just fuck me so I can sleep. I haven’t closed my eyes for more than an hour at a time in almost two weeks.”
He squeezed her tighter, his fingers tracing the thin strap of her top. A shiver of desire cut through the haze of little sleep and gallons of caffeine. “That’s a long time. Sure you don’t just want me to leave so you can curl up without interruptions?”
His tenderness messed with her emotions again, and she focused on her frustration over the need to break down and sob. “What are you, some stupid hick, too dumb to understand? I need to get off…to release some tension before I explode. If you can’t handle that, say so, and then get out so I can find someone willing.”
“I can handle whatever you dish out, woman.”
Her bikini top fell away with a couple quick tugs, leaving her naked except for her skirt and panties. He swung her astride the massage table and guided her face down onto the padded surface. Before she realized his intentions, he had used the strings of her top to tie her hands to the headrest.
She tried to escape, but the makeshift restraint held firm. “I don’t play this way, cowboy. If anyone gets tied up, it’ll be you.”
A deep chuckle offered his only answer. “Just relax, beautiful. You wanted release. That’s exactly what you’ll get.”
Strong hands grasped her ankles and jerked her down the bed until her arms stretched tight along the cot, and her legs hung off the end, her feet not quite on the floor. The second he released her, she scrambled up the table to work at the ties. The snick of leather escaping belt loops warned her, but she could not find the end of the strange knot.
When she kicked at him, he caught her calves and pulled her where he wanted her with little effort before he jerked her skirt and underwear off and tossed them away. The man’s obvious strength sent chills over her and blood pulsed in her pussy. Maybe fighting him wasn’t smart. She wanted him. He obviously wanted her. So what if he liked control. So did she, most days. What would it hurt to give in to the stranger’s demands for one night? He’d proven again and again that he was a country boy at heart. His initial refusal, his concern for her on th
e street, even his offer to leave so she could get some rest provided proof she could trust him.
He wrapped his belt around her thighs and buckled it behind the metal leg supports where they came together under the table. Had to be. There was nothing else he could have fastened her to. The position left her stretched out like a sacrificial virgin, ass high and pussy tight, clenched together by leather rather than uncertainty. Too bad her virginity had disappeared when she was only sixteen, lost to the groping paws of her father’s best friend. She would have liked to offer it to someone like the powerful stranger whose hands dug deep to work the strain from her thighs. He massaged her muscles sending both pain and pleasure through her. She arched her back in a silent demand for more.
“I’ve never met a woman so tense before.” Gentle lips explored the lowest curve of her butt cheek, tracing the seam between thigh and ass, and her pussy wept, hungry and eager for his touch. “Tell me you’re not afraid of me, beautiful.”
If she were wrong about him and he killed her, it wouldn’t really matter. She’d die without sleep soon anyway. “You planning on beating me up or worse?”
“Not unless that’s what you’re looking for.” His hands moved higher, kneading, caressing, driving her passion to unexpected heights. “I’d rather spend the night showing you just how hot you are.”
She groaned when he found a sore spot in her lower back. Trying not to look needy, she used her arms for a headrest and hid her face from him. “As long as I get some relief, I don’t really care what you do.”
His warm mouth tasted and explored every inch of her back. A shiver she could not restrain raised goose bumps and tightened her nipples to hard peaks. His thumbs brushed over the raised scars disguised by the roses in her tat then hesitated. Her chest squeezed against the coming questions. “What happened?”
She did not want to relive six years of hell, would not think of the night a lit cigar had pressed again and again into her skin, or the shithead she’d allowed to abuse her for far too long, but she couldn’t shift away from the tender fingers on her back. “Sex. Nothing more, remember? I don’t do personal.”