by Sybil Bartel
“It’s okay. But next time, don’t fight with a Harley. It wants to go as much as you want to ride it. Fight the instinct that feels like you’ll fall and just give this beast more gas. The faster you go, the easier it is to keep the motorcycle up. Trust me.”
Hating that I needed instruction, but appreciating her patience, I tried again.
Going through the steps she’d shown me, I started the bike and put it in gear.
Then I gave it gas.
Except this time, I did not slow start.
I pulled the throttle back harder.
The machine wobbled once, then just as she’d promised, I was moving.
Not moving. Driving.
A motorbike.
Freedom filling my lungs, life blood humming like when I took a woman, anticipation surged to a new level.
I wanted more.
The engine whined, I pulled the clutch and lifted the gearshift. Giving the motorbike more gas, I went even faster.
Then I understood.
This was not simply a motorbike, it was a Harley, and my life until this moment had been a fallacy.
Holy shit, he was doing it.
He was riding the Hog. And not just riding it, he was driving the hell out of it. His back straight, his shoulders proud, shifting seamlessly, he drove that beauty like he’d been born for it.
Forgetting where we were and what was going on, I whooped with excitement. “Go, baby!”
Driving down the dirt road like he was made for that Harley, my man glanced over his shoulder.
And damn if he didn’t smile.
Well, almost. More like the corner of his mouth tipped up, but I was calling it, because holy hell, was he sexy.
I pumped my fist then made a turn-around motion. Cupping my hands, I hollered after him, even though I knew he wouldn’t hear me over those dang pipes. “Turn around, practice your turns!”
Nodding once, he slowed the bike down and started to turn. Halfway through, I knew he wasn’t gonna make it. He slowed too much, but his foot came down and he kept the bike upright before he stalled it out.
I jogged down to meet him. “Don’t worry, turns are hard at first, and this is a narrow lane to try your first turn around in. But you’ll get it.”
All of a sudden, he went stock-still and looked behind me.
A split second later, I heard it.
Motorcycles. Coming toward us.
“Oh shit.” I glanced on either side of us. Orange groves. Dead tree branches. Overgrown grass. I looked ahead. One road.
There wasn’t a choice.
“We have to hide.” I grabbed one side of the handlebars. “Come on, come on, get off. We’ll push it so they don’t hear us.”
With natural grace, he swung his leg over. “I will push.”
I looked behind us as the sound grew closer. “Hurry, they’re comin’ fast. I’ll grab some dead branches.”
Tarquin pushed the bike off the road and through the tall grass.
I grabbed a couple dead branches from the opposite side of the lane, then I used them to cover our tracks in the dirt. Hurrying behind Tarquin, there was nothing I could do about the narrow trail of grass the weight of the bike crushed with its tires. Hopefully whoever was coming would be going fast enough not to notice.
Tarq pushed the bike behind an orange tree.
“Lay her down.” Upright, she was visible from the road.
Without comment, using his leg to support the bike so it didn’t drop outright, he laid the Hog down on her side. Then he grabbed a gun out of the saddle bag.
I threw the branches over the bike and tried to fluff the grass in the path the bike had made.
“Come,” Tarquin calmly commanded as he took my hand and glanced down the road. “Behind this tree.” Stepping more over than through the grass, he led us to the next tree further back from the road. “Lie down flat with the earth, perpendicular to the trunk.”
I did as he said as the motorcycles engines got louder, but he didn’t get down with me. “Where are you goin’?”
Holding out the gun in his hand to me, stock first, he reached for the gun in his back waistband. “Closer to the road.”
I took the gun and checked the clip.
“Do not shoot unless we are fired upon first,” he commanded. “I do not want to give away our position if we do not have to.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not startin’ anythin’ I don’t have to.” I wasn’t looking to add more dark marks against my soul than I had to. When it came time for me to meet my maker, I wanted as few deaths as possible on my hands.
Nodding, he moved toward the tree closer to the road and crouched. Sighting his gun, then looking down the road, he glanced back at me. His eyes so blue in the daylight they were almost clear, he gave me the serious look I was beginning to understand had many shades.
This shade was concern laced with command.
Tipping his chin at the tree as if to say stay down behind it, he turned back to the road as he sank lower into the grass.
On my stomach, holding my arms out in front of me and aiming, I watched dust kick up as two bikers came flying down the old dirt road.
My heart hammering, my nerves pumped, I was primed and ready like a dang charge waiting to blow, but the bikers just rode right past us.
Focused on their unfamiliar cuts that looked like the one Rush had been wearing, I didn’t hear Tarquin come up on me.
His hand landed on the small of my back, and I jumped.
“Shh.” His heat, his musk, it hit me a second before his breath touched the back of my shoulder. “Do not move.”
“I wasn’t about to go runnin’ out in the road and announce my—”
His hand landed over my mouth. “Stop talking. There is wildlife above you.”
My head jerked up.
Then I dropped my gun, and my fingers dug into his arm. Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
Three owls. The biggest looking down at us.
His lips touched my ear. “Do not scare them. They are nocturnal. If they take flight, they will give our location away.”
I wasn’t scared of a whole lot in life.
In fact, before today when I saw twelve bikers facing down my man and my mama, I wasn’t scared of nothing except being indentured to a damn biker for the rest of my God-given life. Call me fear averse, or fear-immune, or however you say it, but there was one thing I didn’t do.
I did not do owls.
No dang way.
Anything that could spin its head around like Satan wasn’t on my short list. It wasn’t even in my vocabulary. Add in beaks that could rip your flesh off, and I was out.
My fingers digging deeper into Tarquin’s arm, I whispered, “What’s your middle name?”
“Middle name?”
“Yeah.” I stared at the devil himself disguised as beady yellow eyes and unnatural stillness. “You know, the name between your first and last name.”
“I do not have one.”
I didn’t dare take my eyes off Satan above us to look at him. “Then pick one.”
“I do not know any names, and I do not need any other designation.”
Jesus fricking Christ. “Then I’ll pick one for you.”
He said nothing.
Staring at the biggest owl, sure he wanted to eat me, I grabbed the first sentiment that popped into my head. “Eagle.” An eagle could kill an owl, or at least chase it away. And sweet mother of Jesus, I wanted a damn eagle to come swooping down right now and use its claws to snatch these creepy-looking suckers up and take them away. Who the hell had yellow eyes anyway?
“I am not an animal of flight.”
“Well, you didn’t pick a better name. In fact, you didn’t pick a name at all, and I needed you to have one for what I’m about to say to you next so you understand the seriousness of the situation.”
He said nothing.
I risked taking my eyes off Satan above and grabbed the front of my man’s shirt. “Tarquin Eagle Scott, I do no
t do owls.”
Panic sat between her words as I stared at the color of her eyes. Spring green edged in the color of earth. My heart pumped faster.
Killing, driving for the first time, bikers after us—unspent adrenaline sat in my veins, and my cock grew hard. “The owl will not harm you.”
“Owls,” she whispered furiously. “As in plural. More than one. And I don’t do owls, Tar—”
I did not give her the opportunity to finish her sentence.
I covered her mouth with mine.
She groaned, with protest or approval, I did not know which, but I did not relent.
Driving into her mouth with the hunger of sinful gluttony spoken about in scripture, I did not let up, and I did not retreat as I heard the motorcycle engines change direction.
I claimed her mouth, shoved her shirt up, and unfastened my pants.
Squeezing her breast with one hand, I undid her jeans with the other. With her hips rising in desperation, I yanked the stiff material I hated down her legs as she kicked off her boots.
The scent of grass, dirt, and orange blossoms mixed with her desire, and I did not check to see if she was wet.
Fisting my cock, I shoved into her tight cunt.
Her back arched, and she moaned into my mouth.
I drove deep with the knowledge that no other woman would ever compare—not that I needed any to. This woman was mine.
Pulling back, I pushed up and braced myself on one hand. Only the head of my cock inside her, her legs spread wide, grass surrounding her, I breathed in and spoke truth. “My body inside you, the earth at your back, no bird will harm you.” I would not let it.
“Like an eagle,” she whispered. “You’ve swooped down and taken me.”
“I do not have wings.” The sound of two motorcycle engines grew closer. “I cannot fly.” I shoved deep, dropped my weight onto hers and grabbed my gun. “Do not speak,” I warned as I aimed and pulsed inside her.
“Tarquin.” She clutched two handfuls of my shirt in panic.
My cock deep inside her, I covered her mouth with one hand and took aim with the other.
The bikers slowed to a stop not five paces from us.
One pointed at the ground. “I’m telling you,” he spoke over the sound of the engines. “The tire tracks stop here.” He looked in our direction.
My woman stiffened under me.
The second biker pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
I thrust inside her in warning and pressed down harder with my hand over her mouth.
Her core tightened around me.
The second biker inhaled on his cigarette. “And I’m telling you, there’s no one out on this road. Prez was crazy sending us out here. You heard Hawkins’s old lady. They took off to Kentucky.” Taking another drag, he blew out rings of smoke. “They went north, probably on the highway. They got Rush’s bike. Who knows how far they could be by now?”
The first man put his kickstand down, turned off his engine, and swung his leg over the motorcycle. Squatting, he looked first up then down the road. “They were here.” He stood and kicked at the dirt. “Those are fresh tracks.”
Her fingers dug into my chest.
The second man laughed. “You can’t tell that.”
I held my gun steady.
Her cunt pulsed.
“Can and did.” The first biker looked across the road from where we were. “They heard us coming and got out of sight.” He drew a gun from his back waistband and glanced at the first biker. “You want to find the prick who killed Rush, or do you wanna sit your fat ass on your Hog and smoke?”
“Fuck you,” the second biker clipped as he threw his kickstand down and cut his engine. “I’m only humoring your crazy ass.”
“Yeah?” the first biker clipped as he scanned the grove where we were hiding. “Well, humor me further and get your gun ready. I don’t feel like getting fucking shot today.”
At the biker’s last words, my woman flinched under me, her cunt squeezed my cock, and a twig snapped from the slight shift of her body.
An owl took flight.
“Motherfucker.” The first biker fired a wild shot above our heads.
The second biker howled in laughter. “It’s a fucking owl, you dick.”
Eyes crazed, the first biker swung his aim lower. “Yeah, and what the hell do you think spooked a nocturnal bird, you dumb fuck?”
My woman started to shake.
I sighted my aim.
Her bare thighs tightened around my hips.
“Jesus Christ, relax.” The second biker took a drag on his cigarette. “There’s no one out—”
“There!” The first biker rushed toward us.
Exhaling, I pulled the trigger.
“Oh fuck!” Too late, the second biker reached for his gun.
The first biker’s body hit the ground, another owl took flight, and my woman screamed.
I was already firing my next shot.
The second biker crumpled to the dirt with a bullet hole between his eyes.
I dropped my gun and thrust deep into my woman.
Her fists hit my chest and tears crested her eyes. “I told you, I hate owls.”
Pulling back, I drove in hard. “I told you no bird will harm you.” My fingers, smelling of gunpowder, found her clit. “Do not scream next time.”
Tears fell down her cheeks, her back arched, and she moaned. “It was the owl.”
“It was fear.” Driving into her tight, wet cunt, I pressed my thumb to her clit. “Come, and do not doubt me again.”
Her legs hitched up, and she groaned. “Don’t tell me what to do. And I’m not gonna come just because you say—”
I slammed my mouth over hers and I fucked her.
Hard and fast, my body driving into hers, I felt the moment she succumbed to her release.
A tremor went up her back, she cried into my mouth and her cunt constricted all around me.
I released deep inside her.
Stretching me, smelling like guns and motor oil and grass and dirt, he pounded into me with his giant cock.
I never had a chance.
I fell apart.
His back went stiff, and he let go. Pulse after pulse of his hot seed filled my needy pussy, and I shook with an orgasm as my head scrambled.
He’d killed for me.
Again.
With his cock inside me, he’d shot and killed two bikers.
Single-handed.
Bikers wearing cuts from Rush’s club.
I hated owls, but I’d lied earlier.
I did have fears.
I feared how much deeper into this whole mess we were getting. I feared my growing feelings for Tarquin. I feared for a future I desperately wanted every time he came inside me. And I feared how long we would be hunted, because I didn’t know a single way to get out of having not only Daddy on our tail but another MC wanting us dead.
“Tarquin,” I whispered as tears fell down my face. But then I didn’t say anything more. I didn’t have smart words to sling at him or sass to push against his alphaness. All I had was a quivering pussy that wanted more of his brand of claiming and fear deep in my gut that was making it hard to breathe.
“Do not cry,” he quietly commanded as he eased out of me and pushed up to his knees.
His seed rushed out of my body and pooled in the grass below me. “I’m not cryin’,” I sniveled. “And you’re comin’ out of me.” I didn’t want him to leak out of me. I wanted my body to hold on to every single, precious thing he was giving me. “I don’t want you comin’ out of me.”
With his cock thick and heavy and resting against his still undone jeans, his rough hand grasped my chin, and he tilted my head up. His blue eyes, now more icy than heated, raked over my face. Then he spoke like he knew my very soul. “I will be in you again.”
I couldn’t stop the sob of fear. “Promise?”
His penetrating gaze didn’t waver. “I am not leaving you.”
Oh God. He got
me. He got me more than any living being had ever gotten me, and I didn’t know how it’d happened, but I now needed Tarquin like I needed air to breathe. “Please don’t ever break that promise to me.”
“I will not.” He studied my face a moment then nodded once as if making a decision. “We have to go. The sound of the gunfire will have traveled.” Using his strong thighs, he pushed to his full height and tucked himself back into his pants before holding his hand out to me.
I tried to regain some of my composure as I took his hand, but my voice shook. “Why, Mr. Scott, are you being a gentleman now?”
He pulled me to my feet with strength and grace. “I am no gentleman, but I will protect you.” He stared into my eyes, and it felt like something shifted between us. “I will always protect you.”
I wrapped my arms around him.
I knew we didn’t have time. I knew we were now running for our lives. This wasn’t just Lone Coaster club business on Daddy’s property anymore, where the bodies could be buried and no one would be the wiser. This day had gone from bad to worse, and the second these bodies were found, both of us could spend the rest of our lives in jail.
But in that moment, I needed to feel his arms around me.
Just like I’d needed to feel him come inside me.
I’d needed to feel alive.
Because I hadn’t been living.
Not until a six-foot-four blond man with stab wounds and a dislocated shoulder had fallen into my life.
Her arms went around my neck, and her body pressed into mine.
Seeking comfort, she held me tight.
I had never been held tight.
I had never been held.
Before her, no female had sought me out nor given me comfort.
Maybe it was why I had given the female on compound a flower.
Her name, Decima, came to my thoughts, and it felt like a betrayal to the woman in my arms.
I had never wanted Decima. I had never harbored any thoughts of claiming her. I had merely seen her face that day and acted on impulse.
Neither Decima’s memory nor her presence when I had been on compound conjured any thoughts close to the ones of fierce protection I was harboring for the woman in my arms.
Holding my woman close for a moment, I allowed the embrace.