“Take it,” I breathed. “It’s yours.”
The pressure of his fingers being shoved inside me caused me to gulp a breath.
“God damned right it is,” he said. “My pussy.”
My eyes fell closed at the thought of him taking possession of me. “Yours.”
He worked his fingers in and out of my wetness, the palm of his hand tapping my swollen nub with each stroke.
“Mine,” he growled.
Hearing him claim me as his caused me to melt. In response, my clit tingled.
Then, my pussy contracted.
His fingers continued their magic. “Mine,” he said. “My fucking pussy.”
I bit into my lips and snuck in an orgasm. And then, another.
He leaned over me. With his muscular chest against my back, he pressed his mouth to my ear. “Did you come?”
“I…uhhm…uh huh.”
“Don’t do it again without permission,” he commanded.
His warm breath caused goosebumps to rise along my arms. Then, my legs buckled. I inhaled a choppy breath and offered my apology. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
His fingers slipped from inside of me, and although I still felt the tingle from his touch, I yearned for more.
I lifted my head, and glanced over my shoulder.
His fingers twisted into my curly locks, and with my hair gripped tight in his hand, he forced my face against the couch cushion.
I gasped as I felt the pressure of him penetrating me.
My head was spinning. His thick cock seemed to take me places I had never been to, and being there confused me greatly. I focused on the feeling of having him inside of me and tried to escape to a place that allowed me to relish in it.
“Do you like that thick cock?”
The sound of his voice was distant and dull.
I blinked, and prepared to respond.
Whack!
A sharp sting on my right ass cheek caused me to suck in an unexpected breath.
“I asked you a question.”
“I love…” I drew another breath. “I love it.”
He pushed himself in so deep he bottomed out. “Your tight little pussy feels good.”
I clenched my eyes closed. “I love your cock.”
“Louder,” he said. “Scream it.”
“I love your cock!”
It felt good to say it. It felt better to scream it.
His intensity increased. The sound of skin-on-skin drowned out the sound of the music.
“Again,” he shouted. “Say it over and over. Who’s cock do you love?”
With each stroke, I shouted.
“I love your cock!”
“I love your cock!”
“I love your cock!”
I felt him swell.
Oh, God. Please.
My inner walls clenched him tight.
“I love your cock!” I bellowed. “I love your cock!”
“I love your cock!”
His hips swung back and forth wildly, filling me completely with his thickness.
“I love your cock!”
He pressed himself deep inside and held his hips against my ass.
“I love your cock!”
Oh God.
My pussy contracted, sending a wave of emotion through me. Slowly, he pulled himself from me.
The thought of my impending orgasm escaped me.
I felt the tip of his cock against my wet lips. As he pushed himself back in deep, I recalled the need to ask permission.
“Can I come?”
“You may.”
My body shuddered.
Every inch of me began to tingle.
Two quick strokes later, and he swelled and became stiff as a stone.
I felt him explode inside of me.
The feeling of his release caused me to do the same.
Together, we reached a climax like no other I’d ever experienced.
“Fuuuuck yesss,” he howled.
My legs quivered. With my face buried in the couch cushion, I heaved for each breath. Eventually, I lifted my head and turned to face him.
“You’re amazing,” I whispered.
“You’re mine,” he said. “Don’t you ever forget that, Sandy.”
“Yours.” Saying it felt right, so I said it again. “Yours.”
“I mean it,” he said.
I grinned. “I do, too.”
We showered together, and he took special care of me, holding me, kissing me, and insisting that he wash my entire body.
With my back to the shower head, I let the warm water sooth my tired muscles. I closed my eyes as he dabbed me with the soapy loofa.
He snuck an unexpected kiss, and the surprise caused my heart to flutter.
It dawned on me as the water cascaded down upon us that he wasn’t the man I thought he was when we met. He was simply protecting what was important to him, and sacrificing who he was to do so.
Now that we were together, his true self was shining through.
Attaching myself to Smokey was difficult. Doing so with Grayson Edward Wallace was easy.
All I had to do was open my eyes.
I opened my eyes. “I like you.”
He dragged his hands across his hair, turned off the water, and chuckled. “I like you, too.”
We got out, dried off, and I got dressed. After fumbling in the closet for a moment, he slipped on a pair of sweats and an old tee shirt.
“You look cute.”
“Cute?” He coughed out a laugh. “Thanks.”
When we walked into the living room, another blues tune was playing. Once again, I imagined him fucking me to it sometime in the near future.
I paused and cocked my head to the side. “Who is this?”
“The Heavy, Short Change Hero,” he said.
“How do you remember everything?”
He shrugged. “Mind like a vault.”
We each got a bottle of water and he kissed me on the way out of the kitchen. It wasn’t aggressive, or extremely passionate, but it was meaningful, and I’d eagerly take as many of them as he wanted to give me.
“7Horse Meth Lab Zoso Sticker,” he said as we walked into the living room.
Before we got to the couch, the front door opened.
Eddie stepped through the door, walked to the loveseat, and sat down. “Hi.”
Smokey turned to face her. “How’d it go?”
She grinned. “Perfect.”
“What did you do?”
“Let’s see. Pizza, then coffee. Sunset from the pier, then ice cream, and another coffee. Went back to the beach, walked around barefoot, and then here.”
“Glad you had fun.”
She looked at each of us. “What about you guys?”
He shrugged. “Just listened to music.”
She cocked her head to the side. “7Horse.” She nodded. “Love this song.”
“What is it with you two?” I asked.
“What?” Eddie asked.
“The music. How do you remember all the songs?”
“Seventeen years from now,” she said. “And you’ll know all of them, too.”
I hoped she was right.
And, I was eager to spend the next seventeen years finding out.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Smokey
“I ain’t riding with the cocksucker,” P-Nut said. “I don’t give a fuck.”
“He’s a good kid.” I wiped a few water droplets off the rear fender. “Give him a chance.”
He shot me a look. “He ain’t got a neck.”
I looked the bike over, and then met his gaze. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I don’t trust neckless fuckers.”
“You don’t trust anyone.”
He shrugged. “Trust you.”
“Anyone besides me?”
He lit a cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled the smoke through his nose. “I’m thinking not. Other’n Eddie.”
“No shit,” I
said.
I wiped down the gas tank, and took a step back. “Spotless. Once a year, whether it needs it or not.”
He took another drag off his cigarette. “Would you let him ride your bike?”
A true biker never let anyone ride his bike that he didn’t trust 100%, and I trusted no one 100%, except for P-Nut.
“Fuck no,” I responded.
He blew the smoke to the side. “Why not?”
“Don’t trust--” I paused, realizing what I was about to say. “That’s different.”
He shook his head. “Sure as fuck isn’t.”
“Is too.”
“Is not.”
“I’d let you ride it,” I said.
He clenched the cigarette in his teeth and shrugged. “You trust me. That, motherfucker, is my point. You want to tell yourself you trust him, but you don’t.”
“I just want him to get to know some of the fellas. He’s been asking.”
“If he’s askin’ questions, he’s probably a cop.”
“You think everyone’s a cop.”
He took a long drag, blew a few smoke rings, and then met my gaze. “Don’t think you’re a cop.”
“He’s a Marine. Or, he was. He fought for this country. For our freedom.”
He shook his head. “Fuck that. He didn’t fight for me.” He stood up. “Cocksucker didn’t fight for me. That fucker don’t know me. I fight my own fights. Fuck that dude.”
I let out a sigh.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “There’s lots of cops that are former soldiers and shit. Tell that kid to kick rocks. Question askin’ prick.”
“All he asked was to meet some of the fellas.”
“That’s one question too many. Remind him he’s a fucking prospect. Or, hell, take him to that Mexican’s house. Cholo. Yeah, introduce him to Cholo.”
“Cholo’s a good motherfucker. Don’t talk shit on him.”
“Who was talking shit?”
“You called him a Mexican.”
He scrunched his nose and stared. “He is a Mexican.”
“He’s Hispanic.”
“He’s a Mexican.”
“Hispanic.”
He tossed his cigarette on the floor and pressed the toe of his boot against it. “If you’re Hispanic, what’s your native language?”
I shrugged. “Spanish.”
He nodded. “Let’s assume a guy down in Tijuana swam over the river, walked to San Diego, and got him a fake Social Security card. Then, let’s say he got a job here in Oceanside at the carwash. Then, after working there for a couple of years, he bought it.” He spread his arms wide and gazed up at the ceiling as if looking up at a marquee. “Called it Pepe’s Car wash.”
I narrowed my eyes and shook my head. “You gonna make a point?”
“I was tryin’,” he said. “Lemme finish.”
“Finish.”
“Would Pepe be white?”
“No.”
“What would he be?’
“Hispanic.”
He nodded. “Hispanic?”
“Yep.”
“Where did he come from?”
“Tijuana, according to you.”
“What country is Tijuana in?”
“Mexico.”
“Who lives in Mexico?”
“Mexicans.”
“Pepe’s a Mexican, then.”
“Once he crosses the border, he’s Hispanic.”
“Whatever,” he said. “Take that question askin’ prospect over to your Hispanic buddy’s house. They can eat tamales together.”
“Stop being a prick.”
“Oh, now you gonna tell me that Cholo don’t eat tamales? Hell, I eat tamales, so I know he eats em. They’re good as fuck.”
“Just forget it.”
“Forgotten.”
I tossed my rag on the toolbox. “You ready?”
He looked up. “Ready to what?”
“Ride?”
“Just you and me?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
He picked up his cigarette butt, twisted it between his fingers, and sprinkled loose tobacco all over my spotless bike. “Sure,” he said. “Let’s roll. Where we headed?”
“What the fuck are you doing?” I snarled.
“Looks funny bein’ all clean. I was just doin’ you a solid,” he said.
I shook my head. “Figured we’d eat lunch. I was thinking Mexican food.”
“Where we going?” he asked with a laugh. “Hispanico?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sandy
I was comfortable in my new home when Smokey was present, but when he was gone, I felt out of place. As if I was invading space that I didn’t have the right to, I reluctantly opened each of the drawers, looking for the silverware while Eddie took a shower.
I realized as I pulled open drawer after drawer, that although I’d been in the house for two weeks, I didn’t know where the silverware was.
On the next to the last drawer, I hit the jackpot.
Thank God.
I grabbed a butter knife, and closed the drawer.
Did I just see what I thought I saw?
I opened it again.
I gazed at the silverware, which was situated in a wooden cutlery organizer. Beside the organizer were three pairs of chopsticks. I smiled and shut the drawer.
I got the bread from the pantry, some ham, the cheese, and then looked for the mayonnaise. While scanning the compartments on the refrigerator doors, I saw another surprise.
I picked up the bottle.
Sandwich Pal Horseradish Sauce.
I grinned and closed the drawer.
I made my sandwich, and spread a thick layer of horseradish sauce on the bread. As I ate, I decided to make a mental list of all the things about Smokey that I didn’t like. By the time I was finished eating, I hadn’t come up with one single thing. On my way to the sink, I came up with no less than six things about him that I did like.
Convinced that I could fall in love with him if he could fall in love with me, I washed my hands and walked into the living room.
Eddie was relaxing on the couch with her Kindle.
“Oh,” I said. “I thought you were in the shower.”
“I was,” she said. “Not anymore, though.”
“When does your dad get home most of the time?”
“On Saturday?” She shrugged. “Before dinner.”
“I didn’t have to work, so I’m just kicking it.”
She looked up. “We can kick it together. If you want.”
I sat down. “Okay.”
She tossed the tablet to her side and sighed. “I’ve got a lot left to read.”
“What are you reading?”
“I like NA stuff.”
“NA?”
“New Adult.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a genre about kids my age. Leaving home. Relationships. Finding a job. College. Just stuff like that, but it always includes falling in love.”
“Sounds fun.”
“NA, or falling in love?”
I shrugged one shoulder. “Both.”
“It’s fun to think about.”
“Falling in love?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“Is Richard the one?”
“I don’t know. He’s cool, and we have fun together, but who knows.”
I wondered if she was being totally truthful with me and quickly decided she probably wasn’t. I doubted she trusted me, for one, and secondly, I suspected she thought I’d tell her father anything she told me.
I wondered about developing a friendship with her, and wondered if I could so and maintain some level of separation as a parent.
“Are uhhm. Are you and your dad friends?”
She looked at me like my head was on fire, and then laughed. “Yeah. Like, best friends.”
“That’s cool,” I said.
“What about your dad and you?” she asked.
; “He left when I was little.”
Her nose wrinkled. “That sucks. What about your mom?”
“She uhhm. She was…she is a drug addict. I left home when I was thirteen and moved in with my aunt and uncle. So, I really didn’t spend a lot of time around her.”
Her eyes dropped to the floor. “My mom was, too. She died.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She shrugged. “That’s what happens. I mean, it sucks, but it happens. Drugs are stupid. I’m glad her and my dad got together, even if it was just for a little while. I mean, if they didn’t, I wouldn’t be here, you know. So, that’s cool. But yeah. Drugs are stupid.”
“They sure are.”
She scooched toward the arm of the couch and then turned to face me. “Are you excited about the baby?”
Her eyes made her level of excitement clear, which shocked me. I smiled. “I am. More every day.”
She rubbed her hands together. “What do you want?”
“Oh. I don’t know. I just want a healthy baby.”
“Everybody says that.” She chuckled. “You have to want one or the other a little more. Which one? I want a baby sister.”
Hearing her say sister made me feel like she’d truly accepted the situation wholeheartedly. “Are you excited about being a sister?”
“Oh, man. Am I? Yeah, I’ve always wanted to have brothers and sisters, but not so much brothers. Unless I already have a sister, that is. Either would be cool, though.”
“I think I’d like a daughter,” I whispered. “But don’t tell your dad.”
“I think he wants a boy.” She pressed her index finger against her lips. “I’m not saying a word.”
I widened my eyes and shook my head. “I don’t want to make him mad.”
“Girl power.” She raised her hand and turned her palm to face me.
I slapped my hand against hers. “Girl power.”
“This is going to be so cool,” she said. “When can we find out what the sex is?”
“Like three months or so.”
“I can’t wait.”
I was excited too, but the longer we talked the more excited I became. After half an hour of talking about babies, we were in the kitchen making milkshakes and discussing the fallacy of love.
Eddie took a slurp of her milkshake, and then wiped the corners of her mouth with the tip of her finger. “Love? I think initially that it’s a conscious acceptance of a person being satisfactory. You know, as far as attraction goes. Yeah, this guy’s hot, or whatever. So, the girl decides she’s attracted to said person, and she gives him a chance.” She shrugged. “Then, they hang out. He thinks she’s cool, she thinks he’s cool, and they bone or whatever. He decides he likes boning her, she knows she likes boning him, and one day he pulls a douche move, and they break up.”
F*CKERS (Biker MC Romance Book 7) Page 72