Sinner (MC Club Biker Urban Alpha Male Erotic Romance)

by Kasper, Billie

  “The habit. I don’t wear it when I work outside. Can you imagine wearing all that stuff while gardening?”

  He shrugged. “I can’t imagine wearing it at all, frankly.”

  “You get used to it.”

  “Why’d you become a nun?”

  “Why’d you become a biker?” I retorted.

  “Because I hate when people tell me what to do and I love riding. Why’d you become a nun?”

  I sighed. I sat back on my heels, looking at the ground.

  “I got knocked up when I was fifteen. My parents are super conservative Catholics. They pulled me out of school, stuck me in a home for girls—most everyone there was either on drugs, a lesbian, or pregnant—and after that, I didn’t really have much choice but to take orders.”

  “That’s fucking primitive,” scowled Dario. I shrugged.

  “It’s my life.”

  “Why don’t you leave? Are you eighteen yet?”

  “I’m nineteen.”

  “Then fucking leave. Tell those old hags to fuck off. I mean, unless you like being here.”

  I glanced behind me, back in the direction of the convent, which was camouflaged and obscured by trees.

  “No. No, I hate it.”

  “Then run away. Who’s going to stop you? You’re an adult.”

  I shook my head.

  “It’s just not that easy. I don’t have any friends outside the convent anymore. My parents wouldn’t take me in. I just don’t know anyone.”

  “So? Knowing people is awful. Being by yourself, that’s where it’s at.”

  He pulled a cigarette out of the pocket of his vest and lit up. The smoke smelled sweet and fragrant. It had been so long since I had smelled a cigarette. I had been a smoker in high school, carrying a pack in the pocket of my Catholic schoolgirl skirt or even tucked into my bra strap and thinking I was so bad. Of course, I hadn’t smoked since I had gotten pregnant and then not since I had got to the girls’ home.

  “So, what’s your name?”

  “Sister Marina Ramirez.”

  “Marina. That’s a pretty name. That was my older sister’s name.”

  “Really? Was?”

  “She’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I,” he said with a sigh, blowing a ring of smoke drifting out of his lips.

  “What’s your gang called?” I said quickly, trying to change the subject. He had been looking at me expectantly, as if he wanted a piece of holy wisdom—a promise that his sister was dancing like an angel in heaven with all the saints. But at this moment, I didn’t feel like passing on the good word.

  “The Damned,” he said with a smile. He pointed to the tattoo in his arm.

  “It’s Dante,” I said, smiling back.

  “Good eye. I love Dante.”

  “So do I,” I said quickly. “I learned Italian so I could read it in the original. I told the sisters I wanted to read theology but I read Dante and Boccaccio instead.”

  Dario grinned.

  “Speak some Italian to me, sister,” he said leaning back. I gulped. I hadn’t expected to have to recite anything but fortunately, I did have a few passages committed to memory…

  I began:

  “Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita

  mi ritrovai per una selva oscura,

  ché la diritta via era smarrita.

  Ahi quanto a dir qual era è cosa dura

  esta selva selvaggia e aspra e forte

  che nel pensier rinova la paura!

  Tant’ è amara che poco è più morte;

  ma per trattar del ben ch’i’ vi trovai,

  dirò de l’altre cose ch’i’ v’ho scorte.”

  Dario let out a long, low whistle as I finished up. His eyes were shining and he grinned at me. His smile made me want to go to sleep, made me want to fall into his arms. I had to avert my eyes, or else I was afraid he would see me blushing.

  “That’s fucking beautiful. No one writes like that, anymore, I bet. He was one in a million.”

  “Why ‘The Damned’ then?”

  “What’s wrong, sister? Do you want to save me?”

  “I already did,” I said, poking his bandages. He hissed in pain.

  “It’s because we’re damned. We’re the trash society threw out. Folks didn’t want us—not in school, not in the army, not in a job, not in a family, not in nothing. You have to belong somewhere, so the Damned, that’s where the trash belongs. That’s me. Just trash.” He pressed out the remains of his cigarette. “Not the kind of guy a girl like you should mess around with.”

  “Who said anything about messing around with you?” I demanded, not really angry but more curious than anything. As he had been speaking, I could only think of how similar the Damned seemed to… to me.

  Hadn’t I been cast out, unwanted, like trash? I was loved and adored and pampered my whole life until I made one mistake, one stupid mistake that tons of kids make, and then I get thrown out.

  “You’re the one who’s talking to me. You’re the one who hasn’t called the cops yet. You don’t know what I did. I could be a mass murderer for all you know. A drug dealer. A rapist. But you’re here, talking to me and taking care of me like a Good Samaritan.”

  I shrugged. “Love thy neighbor.”

  “I know a way you can love your neighbor a little better,” he said with an evil grin. I blushed harder. He reached down and began to unzip his pants.

  “Stop,” I said quickly, putting my hand over his.

  “Oh, come on, sister. No one’s going to know, and how long has it been since you tried anything like this?”

  Fuck, but he was right. The thought of fooling around with him excited me, more than anything else had in years.

  “You’re a gorgeous little thing,” he said, his breath husky. “And it’s a fucking crime… A fucking sin… That something as beautiful and sweet as you is locked up here. Don’t you agree?”

  Frankly, I did. I said a silent prayer as I took my hand away and let him unzip his pants: Forgive me, Lord, for I am about to sin…

  He slid his boxers down and revealed his tool to me: fat and thick, longer than I expected, bulging and throbbing in the open air. For a man who had just taken a shotgun blast to the gut, he sure seemed ready to go.

  “So, is this the first cock you’ve seen since you were in high school?” he asked smugly as I reached my fingers towards it. He gasped as my soft fingertips made contact with his hot flesh. I blushed and nodded.

  “Yeah. You’re… You’re a hell of a lot bigger than I was expecting.”

  “I bet you say that to all the boys.”

  I laughed shyly as I ran my fingers over his length, tracing the long vein of his cock from the base of his dick up to the throbbing, meaty tip.

  “How many girls have you knocked up with this thing?” I asked, starting to jack him slowly. I gripped him by the flesh of his cock, by his sheath, and ever so delicately began to slide his skin down, began to work his cock. My hands felt clumsy and awkward. I was out of practice.

  “None, so far.”

  “But I bet it gets a work out pretty regularly,” I pushed, sliding my finger along the fat, twitching flesh of his cock. I could feel the hunger emanating from it. I could feel his desire. I darted my eyes up to meet his. He was watching me, waiting to see how I reacted to his cock, waiting to see what I would do with it and how I would touch him. But more than that, I think he was waiting to see the same desire in my eyes.

  “You mean from my hand or from girls?” he asked with a grin. I gave him a sharp squeeze, eliciting the slightest of pained yelps from his lips.

  “From girls, silly.”

  “Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t.”

  I wasn’t going to get a good answer out of him, so I lowered my face to his cock and gave the tip a kiss. I realized then and there that I hadn’t even kissed him. Somehow, it felt more right to begin with this.

  We would probably never see each other again, so why bother with
the kissing? We’ll just have fun and this afternoon would be a memory, the kind of thing I’d take with me during my years at the convent—proof of my defiance towards the mother superior, proof that I was still a woman, underneath the habit and robes.

  His flesh was hot and tasted salty and sweaty. As my lips ran over his skin, I was seized by an almost uncontrollable hunger—the kind that I knew wouldn’t be sated just by this encounter. Damn it all to hell, I thought to myself, as I began to lick him.

  I ran my tongue from the base of his cock up to his thick tip, swirling my hot, wet mouth around the fat head of his cock. He grunted in delight and reached out to run a hand through my hair. That was the first time in years a man had run his hands through my hair. Hell, that was the first time in years a man had touched me.

  The touch of his fingers made me feel like he was dropping little pinpricks of electricity onto my skull, like I were one of those pink electric globes you put your fingers on to generate static electricity. His hands were surprisingly gentle, though, in spite of the calluses I could see dotting his palms and finger tips.

  “Damn, but that’s good. You must have been a natural in high school.”

  Well, I definitely had been well-praised for the… three blow jobs I had managed to give my freshman year before I was taken out of school. I hadn’t thought much of it at the time but I guess it’s like riding a bike. You never really forget.

  Now, I took him into my mouth, letting my plump, wet lips run over his thickness, letting him enter me. God, but it felt amazing, having this hot, throbbing piece of flesh in my mouth, having every part of it touch me, be subsumed in me. I ran my tongue along his shaft as I guided my mouth on and off of his cock. I even let my teeth run along the underside of his massive length, scraping his shaft and drawing more soft moans from his quivering lips. I nibbled his cock delicately, even tugging at the skin of his rod, pulling at it, savoring the way it stretched in my mouth, in between my lips…

  “Aw, fuck, that’s good…” he grunted. “Go faster.”

  I pulled off his cock.

  “We’re doing things on my schedule, mister.”

  He scowled in mock frustration as I slid him back into my mouth, puckering my lips as he went so that he got the full effect of my sucking him. Finally, I began to bob my head, pursing my lips so that he slid in and out easily. I went slow, however, making it pleasurably torturous for him. I wanted him to want his relief. I wanted him to earn it. More than anything, I wanted him to remember me.

  Even though I knew this could be nothing but a one-night stand (disregarding the fact that it was four in the afternoon) I wanted this to be something more. I wanted something more than a chance encounter out of this. But it was impossible, and so the only way I could make sure it was something more was if I made these moments unforgettable for Dario.

  And judging from the way he moaned and held onto me as I sucked him, I was well on my way.

  “Oh, god, Marina, Jesus Christ…” he grunted, thrusting his hips up into my mouth, the fat tip of his cock claiming a few more inches of my mouth. I began to bob my head faster and faster, coming almost all the way off his cock before plunging back down onto it, letting his fat prick invade my sanctified mouth.

  Even as it slid into my mouth and I struggled to remember how to pleasure a man with my mouth, how to suck a cock like the girls in the porn I had watched with my friends years and years ago, how to please a man like my girlfriends used to complain about having to do to their boyfriends… I couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like inside of my pussy. God forgive me!

  “Is it good?” I whispered in between sloppy, slurpy sucks. I, of course, knew his answer. There was no way it could be anything but. I wasn’t that sheltered here at the convent.

  “It’s fucking excellent,” he answered as I started to play with his balls, teasing and stroking them as I sucked him faster and faster. I even let his cock slide down my throat, gagging a little bit but maintaining my composure as his cock disappeared deeper and deeper into my mouth, almost till my nose was buried in his pubic hair. He grunted as I sucked him, his cock twitching and spasming in my mouth. God, but I loved the feeling of his dick in my mouth. I loved the way it felt, its warmth and weight and the way he seemed to want his release so, so badly…

  “Fuck… Marina… I’m getting close…”

  He gripped me hard by the hair and, with that, he was cumming. Stream after stream of hot cum flooded my mouth. I gagged only slightly but almost immediately, I found myself sucking his cum down, swallowing it obediently, like a good girl—like his girl. It was salty and only slightly bitter—so much different from what I remembered in high school. I decided I liked it. I decided I liked his cum and I slurped down every drop greedily, licking the remains off his cock.

  I lapped at it obediently, like a dog or a cat determined to slurp up every last bit of her dinner, not knowing when or where she’ll eat again.

  Because that was me—I knew I had to savor this moment, because this of course my be the very last time in my life that I had a man in my mouth, that I even touch a man in any way other than the most delicate and platonic and friendly way.

  This was an unexpected gift and I had to take advantage of it, no matter what the future had in store for me. This I knew for certain.

  “Well, hot damn,” he said with a satisfied sigh, putting his cock away. Back into his pants it disappeared, my lips having given it a final kiss goodbye.

  “Was that okay?” I asked shyly. I don’t know why but, all of a sudden, I felt very unsure of myself—very concerned that he wouldn’t have liked it.

  “Girl, that was amazing,” Dario said, pulling me in for a kiss. And god, that kiss… His lips were hot and addictive, like fires raking over my mouth. As we kissed, I felt myself melt into him a bit, holding onto his strong shoulders, feeling the muscles undulating beneath his flesh. I didn’t want him to go, though I knew he must. We lived in different worlds and though they had collided for an afternoon, there was no way we could be together.

  He slid his hands underneath my sweatshirt and I gasped, feeling his strong fingers on my breasts. I was wearing a ratty, completely unsexy bra—the only kind of bra nuns ever wear. I found myself blushing, but not because I was embarrassed that he was touching my breasts.

  I had always had a nice set, I thought, and I was popular in high school because of it. I often missed those halcyon days of flirting awkwardly with boys on the bus in middle school, of unbutton my blouse an extra few buttons so that they could snag a peek at my growing cleavage. And it had been generous even then…

  No, the reason I was embarrassed was the way I was dressed. I felt so totally unsexy, I found myself shying away from his hands, no matter how much I wanted them. He persisted and I grabbed his wrists, forcing his hands down to his sides.

  “Oh, what’s wrong…” he growled, that hungry look in his handsome eyes. “You’re upset now because you broke your stupid vows?”

  “No, no, no… I just…”

  I couldn’t look him in the eye. I covered myself—I felt naked, even though I was still fully clothed. I had fantasized about doing something like this but I never looked like I did now: I was never in an overgrown sweatshirt, muddy from a day of gardening, sunburned and gross. But even as I looked down at the ground, down at my blistered feet encased in strong, workman’s boots, Dario caught me by the chin and tilted my head up.

  “Hey, there, sister,” he cooed softly. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”

  “I just… It’s stupid.”

  He pulled me close into a kiss. I let myself be kissed, let his lips and tongue mold my mouth to hit. It felt good and for a moment, I felt myself start to forget, start to slide. But then I pushed him away again.

  “No, I’m sorry, I feel so gross. I’m disgusting. How can you be into this? Are you just that desperate?”

  He let out a harsh, short laugh. It was the kind of laugh you’d expect to hear from a man just condemned to die, but th
ere was a warmth in that laugh—unexpected, but it was there, and it made me want to throw my arms around his strong neck and tumble into the turnips with him.

  “Let me show you something,” he said. He dug into the pocket of his worn blue jeans and pulled out a cell phone—one of the filthiest, most beaten up, cracked smartphones that’s ever walked this earth, I was positive. He held it up and snapped a picture of me. I looked down as the camera clicked. He flipped the phone around, showing me my picture.

  “Does that look like what a desperate man goes for?”

  I resisted for as long as I could but before long, I found my eyes drifting upward to look at my picture. I all but gasped. It was so long since I had seen my own reflection in the mirror as that of a woman and not of a sexless sister and… I was pretty. My dark hair was a mess but not an unpleasant one. I wore no make up but I didn’t need it.