Hard Rider

by Lydia Pax

  Gunfire followed them as they raced away down the road to where Nate waited with their bikes. Nobody was hit, and quickly he and Mikhail got off from the truck and back onto their bikes. June followed them out.

  Even that far away, they could hear the swears of the Black Flags as they tried to mount up on their bikes and chase after them, only to find the chain locking them in place.

  Mikhail and the prospect laughed, trading looks with the binoculars.

  June pressed against Ram, her hand sliding against his crotch in a way so that the other two couldn’t see. Her face was flushed with victory—she’d never looked so gorgeous to him.

  No woman ever had.

  He needed to fuck her more than he had ever needed to do anything in his life.

  “Let’s get out of here,” said Ram, squeezing June’s ass and barely restraining himself from taking her right then and there. “It won’t take that long for them to figure out to grab some bolt cutters.”

  Chapter 33

  It was cool outside, for once. The temperature had dropped to the high sixties, which, while not exactly chilly, was a far cry from the usual higher eighties that the Southwest Texas weather usually held for its nighttime summer audience.

  They were back at Ram’s house, alone together. Ace, Mikhail, and the prospect had gone home after only a few short words—they could see the electricity between June and Ram, could see that the two young lovers needed time alone.

  Now, she and Ram stood very close to one another in Ram’s kitchen, each holding a beer cracked open for celebration—the job was done and they were safe. June had a hard time not pushing him back against the wall, kissing him, demanding that he shove his massive winner’s cock deep into her body.

  There were all sorts of men June thought she was attracted to. For most of her life, ever since her sexuality turned on, she thought she was attracted to quiet, bookish men. The sort who could hold long discussions with her about the feminist implications of whichever piece of cinema they had seen for the night, the kind who would hold a complicated job and describe to her in detail all of its intricacies and his supreme confidence in carrying out.

  An engineer, maybe, or an architect; someone with class and distinguished features in his brow and nose.

  But Ram aroused her for reasons entirely different than all of that. Her attraction to him felt unstoppable, unlocked by some secret, basic portion of herself that she had never known existed. Like if a person sat down at a piano and was suddenly playing Mozart with the ease of a maestro—this is how natural, how sublime her heat for Ram felt inside her body.

  He was so indefatigably masculine. Every inch of him, from head to toe, every part of his mind, knowing what he deserved for being a rock hard hunk with a huge cock and a rap sheet that read like the bullet point analysis of some action hero in a movie.

  “So,” he said. “Who’s Jerry? Somebody I ought to be jealous of?”

  “Jerry? What Jerry?” Then she laughed. “Oh. No, I don’t even know someone named Jerry. I just thought…I don’t know. I picked it out for the way it sounds when you slur it.”

  “Where did you come up with that shit?”

  “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I just sort of…went with instinct. It’s happening a lot lately.”

  They both had stopped speaking, staring at each other with a quiet aplomb that said all it needed to about what they thought would happen. June’s gaze raked against the heavy powerful muscles of his neck and shoulders, built so tight into that broad, magnificent chest.

  An intense, wanting expression filled Ram’s face and he began to take off his shirt, and a piece of paper fell to the ground.

  Puzzled, he picked it up and read it, raising an eyebrow as he did.

  “What’s that?” asked June.

  He stuffed the note into his jeans. “Doesn’t matter. Tell you later.”

  From the sink he wet a towel and started to rub it on himself, the scratches and bruises he’d earned from the brawl and the getaway. Now the dirt was spread around his body, the flesh glistening and darkened, and it made her mouth water.

  “I really don’t know if you should have…” she began, sliding her hands up his abs.

  Used a kitchen towel for that, was the rest of that sentence, lost somewhere in the heated ether of her mind.

  Oh, those abs. He knew what he was doing to her with those abs. As she touched them, stroked them, he flexed, and her mind felt as suddenly soggy as her panties, awash with lust. They created a perfect staircase down to his cock—that monster cock of his that she had already tasted, already felt inside of her mouth and throat.

  Even that had been enough to fantasize about for a lifetime. To give herself more…to think that it was right there, waiting for her…

  Her need was not lost on Ram. He tugged at her dress, pulling it down across her shoulders and exposing her bra beneath her breasts. Fingers, sure and easy, slipped behind the cup of her bra and tweaked at a nipple, eliciting a small moan from her mouth. She didn’t resist. She didn’t want to—this was everything she wanted right now.

  “Bedroom,” he said. “Now.”

  There was no arguing with him, no protesting. He was a man and she was a woman and this was what was going to happen.

  She was a wife and she would be fucked stupid by her husband, and despite her knowing it was fake, all a sham, a charade, there was something intensely erotic about that.

  It didn’t matter that they weren’t in love—and she still insisted lamely that she wasn’t falling hard for him. It didn’t matter that this was purely physical—and she still insisted inanely that she felt so much more for him.

  This was going to be furious, amazing sex…and it wouldn’t have to mean a thing.

  Even though it meant everything.

  “I want you, June,” he said, drawing her down on the bed with him. “I’ve wanted you so bad for all this time…”

  She pushed him to his back and lifted herself up on top of him, straddling his hips with her thighs. Tenderly she let her pussy, veiled thinly by her fast-moistening panties, slide against his crotch and the lower expanse of his abs. Her hands slid across his chest and she moaned, biting her lips.

  As if his abs weren’t enough, there was that chest. Dense, broad, and unbreakably strong. He looked like he was formed in a factory somewhere, molded from solid steel. Her fingertips relished every inch of his skin, raking him softly with her nails.

  “You’ve got me, Trouble Man.” She slowly looped upward and unhooked her bra, revealing the full expanse of her breasts to him. “So come and take me.”

  With hungry eyes, he rose up and kissed her nipples, his beard sliding over the sensitive flesh there, generating small giggles from June as he worked. His mouth wrapped around one nipple, tongue probing, biting just barely enough to bring an exquisite sensation of pain next to the pleasure as it hardwired itself down to her pussy, waiting and growing wetter by the moment.

  She needed him too bad not to touch herself. And she tried—but he pushed her hands away, smiling.

  “That’s mine, now,” he said. “I decide when you’re touched.”

  And then, before she had a chance to protest, his fingers were inside of her, pressing up and inward, thick digits penetrating deep and pressing hard against that perfect spot. For several minutes, he pleased her like this, kissing her nipples and urging his fingers in and out of her tightness. Strong arms held her tight against his body, refusing to let her go—not that she would ever want him to.

  With their positioning, she could feel his cock growing harder and harder underneath her, the thick tip occasionally pushing up through his tight underwear against the cheeks of her behind.

  She shifted onto one leg, greedily pulling down his underwear to reveal the full sight of his magnificent rod. Mouth watering, she watched with delight as it sprang upward, already totally hard, slickness covering its impossibly hard length. He reached down to grab it, the need to feel that pleasure clear on his f
ace, but she slapped his hand away with a wicked grin.

  “This is mine now,” she said, voice only slightly mocking. Her breaths were too heavy, too laced with the erotic air of their incumbent sex to be truly mischievous. “I decide when you’re touched.”

  And just like that her hand slipped around the thick pole, stroking as he continued to rhythmically slide his fingers in and out of her. Her arousal only grew and grew, watching that heavy meaty member grow slick with his essence and seeing his reaction as he hand pumped faster and faster. A lesser man would have come by now; a lesser man would have been exhausted for the whole night.

  But not him. She knew already he was going to fuck her until they were both too tired to move. And knowing that, knowing what he was going to do to her, knowing he would ruin her for the rest of her life, made her want to feel his cock drive inside her needy entrance even more.

  It became too much for her to bear. “Ram,” she moaned. “Please…”

  She rolled her head back, hips gyrating forward onto his fingers, legs spreading wide. Everything about her advertised the need to mate, then and there, to delay no longer. He obliged her, pushing her back on the bed so he was right on top of her, cock hovering over her entrance.

  “Please what?”

  Oh, you brilliant hunk…Trouble Man. Pure trouble.

  “Please,” she said, surprised to hear her own voice. In that private place with her new lover, she was free to become whatever she wanted—and so her words had become sultry and low, knowing. Eager. “Be inside me, please. Fuck me…husband.”

  By some intuition, she knew that would get him going—the same reason that for her, being a wife got her motor running. It was something she never intended to be, something she felt too young to be, and so to engage with it now felt like the most serious of taboos even though it was perfectly natural.

  Ram shoved inside of her wet entrance, sliding halfway in at first, then back out again. And then in, farther still, and out, over and over again with each new entry and re-entry demanding moans and cries spiraling out from her mouth.

  The feeling was electric. She’d never been entered like this before. Not with so much amazing force, not with so much skill and decisive use of a man’s body. The size of him made her feel filled inside—overfilled, to be honest, but it made her brain pop out of her skull. There was no part of her left that didn’t feel entirely consumed by his passion as he drove into her body again and again.

  Her legs wrapped around his tight, sculpted ass, urging him even deeper inside if that was possible. Her moans pushed against the walls of the house, calling out his name, screaming affirmations again and again. Ecstasy rushed through her, every inch of skin feeling like it was on fire.

  Above her, thrusting into her, he was beautiful. Her hands ran over his face to feel him, worship him.

  It was a strange thing, to think a man beautiful—and certainly she didn’t think of him beautiful like a woman. His features were all man, from the broad line of his nose to the harsh, healthy, ripped features of his torso. There was nothing about him that could be possibly mistaken for anything but a red-blooded stud.

  But still, he was beautiful to her. Looking at him was like staring into some vast canyon, or, perhaps more appropriately, up at a mountain peak. Strong. Impermeable. Eternal.

  “You’re so right,” he groaned. “So good. So perfect…”

  His strokes began to reach a feverish pitch, pistoning in and out with gusto. He was lost in abandon, she could see it in his eyes. All he wanted was to fuck her. There was no tomorrow, no yesterday, no earlier or later. There was only this beautiful now in which they both lost themselves to her tightening of her body around his cock, his thrusts into her again and again.

  The head of his cock hit inside of her perfectly. His largeness was so complete that every stroke pushed firmly up against her g-spot, encouraging more and more pleasure, making her words and moans an unintelligible mush of adoration.

  Her orgasm approached rapidly, the perfect ending to this coupling. She could feel it building inside of her, her body contorting with so much bliss that she hadn’t even the time to warn him.

  “Ram,” she moaned. “Oh, oh Ram. Oh god, oh Ram…”

  Her torso twisted, slipped, hands pulling across his neck and tugging him deeper inside of her as the tidal wave of pleasure powered through her form. And just as her orgasm peaked—he had to pull out, his heavy cock riding hard on her clit. A wave of warm, sticky seed exploded from his cock, spraying against his wife’s body and covering her belly with the gift she craved. With his cock’s denseness pushing so perfectly on her clit, her orgasm felt like it had doubled on itself, carrying her mind away to a far away place.

  A far away place where all was warm, where her man clutched her body as tightly as she clutched his. Where she could feel his hardness building again across her thigh and belly after only a few minutes of rest…where he whispered that he wanted to do it all again.

  That was fine by her.

  Chapter 34

  The conversation with Howitzer had taken just under five minutes and Ram was happy as it drew to a close.

  “All right,” said Ram. “Tonight, then.”

  He hung up the phone, feeling rather satisfied with himself. His father seemed to take the news of his marriage well, and of course he would spread it around to everyone who had half-an-ear to listen. The club would vote tonight on whether to keep Ram in.

  The unstable, unreliable, always waiting for the club to bail-him-out Ram had a wife and he had just organized an operation to get his brother a new bike—and rubbed shit in the face of the Black Flags while he did it, and all without any lives lost.

  If that didn’t keep him in the Wrecking Crew, then nothing would.

  And if it didn’t maybe he’d go Lone Wolf for a little while. It wasn’t a comforting thought—the club was everything to him—but he had to plan for every contingency. He was like his father in that way. When stress hit Howitzer, he’d be lost in his office for hours, drawing up schedules and budgets, planning out the club’s business months in advance. He’d come out of his office and demand a club meeting, showing his brothers his work and asking for their input on what he’d drawn up.

  Howitzer was a man who liked a plan, liked structure despite his outlaw ways. He didn’t want the hypocritical structure of society, which promised freedom and then spent all its time guaranteeing new ways to restrict that freedom, but he did want a structure. And as the club president, he could set whatever structure he liked.

  Again Ram considered the note stuffed down his shirt. The piece of paper he had tucked away last night shortly before finally fucking June.

  He hadn’t been able to concentrate on it at the time—there were far more important things going on—but the note was from Beretta:

  Rats on my ship. Let’s talk. I’m at the cabin for the next few days.

  What did Beretta want from him? Why try to meet? Why plant a note on him in the middle of a brawl?

  And what fucking right did that asshole think he had, trying to parlay with him when he was the reason Madeline was in the ground?

  He didn’t have much time to consider it.

  A car—a cop car—swaggered lazily across the street coming toward his house. Ram lived on the end of a wide intersection and so he could see the car as it passed by Buddy’s Mechanic Shop and then the grocery store and then the small island of trees and benches in the middle of the intersection. It pulled up slow in front of Ram’s house. He eyed the squad car with suspicion—and even more when he saw the driver step out.

  It was Theo Kirkpatrick. He looked drunk. Though he wore his police uniform, it was covered with dirt at the knees and unbuttoned across his chest. Like he’d been crawling through the muck, tripping and stumbling all morning before pulling himself up into his car.

  “Hey there, deputy.” A rare feeling of charity struck Ram. “Why don’t you come inside? I’ll make you some coffee.”

  Theo spa
t on the ground. His stance was wide and staggered. “I’d sooner drink piss than anything you offered me.”

  Ram nodded. “I understand that. How can I help you then?”

  “You can come out here,” he pointed at all of the street, “and get your ass arrested.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Come out here and be here like a man and then fight me, like a man does. How about that?”

  His heavy slurring, running over of words, only confirmed Ram’s suspicion that he was drunk. He was also armed. Ram could see his standard-issue revolver at his hip.

  Ram had a few guns at his house. The closest—a .308 Browning hunting rifle—was just beyond his door. He was afraid that if he went back inside before Theo said his piece that the cop would start shooting.

  “I’m just gonna stay right here, thanks,” said Ram. “I’m sorry you’re upset. But maybe you ought to get the hell out of here before someone sees a cop in your state.”

  “In my state? My state? You want to talk about my state? My state is Texas, and you killed my friend in my state, you son-of-a-bitch, and you did it on purpose.”

  Ram sighed, leaning heavily on the beam of his porch. “I didn’t kill anybody, man.”

  At least, he didn’t kill the cop Theo was talking about, or any cop for that matter.

  “Yes, you did. He stopped you from…from running drugs, or whatever it is you do, and you couldn’t have that, so you killed him.”

  “Listen, friend,” said Ram. “I don’t want to fight you, okay? We’re practically related now. In fact—”

  “Don’t fucking talk to me about that lie between you and June, all right? I don’t need to hear that.”

  “Okay,” said Ram. “All right. Listen, she’s inside, so let’s not make a big deal out of this. How’s that?”