It was too soon to worry about my heart being broken. Skull intrigued me, but he wasn’t the man I could see as my life partner, so the organ that pumped blood around my body wasn’t involved. My lady parts though, well they were something else altogether.
I’ve read books, sure, but have never experienced the intensity of orgasms that were usually described within their pages. No, mine were polite little ripples and not particularly explosive. Already the thought of sex with Skull was turning me on like never before. Sex was something expected after you’d been dating a while, a culmination of a man and woman giving each other time. A few minutes of activity, a cuddle after, and then back to watching the game or, in my case, cooking to satisfy another appetite.
Skull though, there was heat in his eyes. Along with a promise he wouldn’t rush me, his whole being signified that when the time came and I was ready, I wouldn’t be left wanting or disappointed.
What harm would there be in having a date with the man?
Which brings me to today, and why my stomach is full of butterflies. Yes, I’d agreed after he’d worn all my objections down. Me, Melissa, had caved and accepted to go out on a date with a biker.
All week I’ve had doubts about my decision, my hand going to the phone several times to cancel it, but a little voice at the back of my head constantly asked, why should I be the one always missing out? It could be something wonderful would come of the date and we’d have many more, however much I thought one night in my company would end it.
How our conversation had finished on Sunday kept echoing around my head.
“Melissa, I must warn you. I’ll take you out Friday. We’ll have a meal, conversation, and then I’ll drop you back at your door. However much you beg me, I don’t put out on a first date.”
“Skull!” I batted his arm with my hand.
“What, babe? You disappointed?”
A loud laugh escaped me. “No. I…”
“Tut, tut. You thought you were going to corrupt me?”
I bristled. “It’s the other way around, surely?”
His face filled with cockiness. “You know you want to, Melissa. Say you’ll come on a date with me. Friday.”
I wasn’t agreeing to an abstract concept, by adding on a day he was making a concrete proposition. And heaven help me, I was interested enough to agree.
It seemed easy on Sunday. Something to look forward to Monday and Tuesday. On Wednesday the worries began to creep in. By Thursday I had serious misgivings—which made me bake three trays of cookies which were received gratefully at work the next day, well, what was left after I’d tested them. When I woke today, I seriously doubted I could go through with this.
Wear jeans, he’d said. Does that mean he expects to take me on the back of his motorcycle?
No, of course he wouldn’t. Just look at him, then me. I must weigh much more than he does. I’d unbalance his bike for certain. Do curvy women like me even ride? I’ve never been on a bike or taken much notice of them.
I’d rather wear a dress that would hide my large hips, I muse, as I struggle with the zipper on my jeans. I turn and look over my shoulder critically in the mirror. Yes, just as I thought, they show off my fat ass.
My top, though, he didn’t issue any instructions for. I go with a flowing shirt that disguises the size of my tits. Why on earth people get enlargements I’ll never know. Who would willingly put themselves through the back ache that comes with carrying these bazookas around? And the boob sweat… Perhaps I should consider a reduction?
The top also hides the roll of my muffin top.
It has to be a joke. What would a man like Skull see in me?
I should cancel. Yes, I should. But there’s a part of me that is curious how this evening will go. I’ve a broad enough back that if I find out I’m the butt of a joke, it wouldn’t overly bother me. And, there’s a chance, albeit a very slight one, that this strange relationship might actually work.
Fat chance.
A ring on my doorbell signifies it’s now too late. I’ve lost my chance to back out.
Picking up my purse, I check I have my phone and my wallet, then open the door to find Skull waiting there, and behind him like a lurking beast waiting, his motorbike.
“Looking good, woman.”
I stare but can’t see anything other than appreciation in his expression. He seems to be genuinely pleased by the way that I’m dressed, and the light makeup I’m wearing.
He’s wearing a button-down shirt under his leather vest, the contrast with the black leather and his tanned skin is striking, making him look… edible in a word. My tongue licks my lips automatically.
As he smirks, I step around him and point my finger. “You parking that here?”
“What?” He turns in the direction I’m indicating. “No, that’s our transportation.”
I stare at the motorcycle as though I’m looking at a hangman’s noose, and before I’m aware of what I’m doing, take a step back. I would have taken another, had his hand not landed on my arm with just enough pressure to prevent me.
“Look,” he starts earnestly. “You give it a try. All you need to do is to put your arms around my waist, and lean as I do at the corners. You don’t like it? We’ll come straight back. Don’t care if we’ve only gone a few hundred yards, but please, for me, give it a chance.”
I hang onto him?
My glance meets his eyes. “Lean with you? What if I lean too far and over balance us? I’m no lightweight you know.”
He leans back his head and laughs. “You’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing.”
It’s his confidence that gets me moving forward, then turning and locking my door and sliding my keys into my purse which he eyes carefully, before taking it off me, and slinging it over my neck so it hangs slanted over my body.
“Safer like that.”
He leads me over to the chrome and black beast, then dips into a saddlebag and takes out a helmet which he’s soon fastening on me.
“Stop shakin’. You’ll be fine.”
“At least you will be. You’ll have a cushion to land on.”
Another hearty laugh, but offered with a shake of his head, and his hands touch my arms gently as he looks into my face. “Sweetheart, you think there’s too much of you, I happen to love it myself. And I won’t need a cushion, I don’t intend to drop the bike, with you on it or not.”
Well, okay then. Guess I’m going motorcycle riding, or at least as far as the end of the road. “You will turn back?” I ask, biting my lip.
Skull might look young, but now I’m up close to him, there’s an ageless depth to his eyes, and an earnestness in his voice that persuades me. “Melissa, I’d love you to enjoy this, but if you hate it, you just tell me. I promise I’ll bring you right back, and we’ll get an Uber or taxi instead. Now, you gonna give this a try?”
Taking a deep breath, I give a little nod. I notice he must’ve backed his bike onto the driveway as he’s parked facing out.
He gets on, then takes the stand up. “Okay, slide yourself on behind me.”
I do. The seat is slightly higher than his, and when I take the leap of faith, I find I’m on the cushioned leather with my feet dangling off the ground. Yikes.
“Put your hands around my waist darlin’, then put your feet on the pegs to keep them clear of the pipes.” He glances down, left side then right, to make sure I’ve done as he’s asked. Then throws a look over his shoulder. “Keep your hands where they are. No sneaking them down to feel the size of my cock. I’ll show you it later if you’re that impatient, but don’t want anything distracting my riding.”
As I breathe in a gasp of disbelief at his audacity to even suggest I’d do such a thing, I realise he’s started the engine and is already pulling off my driveway. As I cling on for dear life, it dawns on me his comment had been made to distract me from any last-minute doubts I may have had.
It worked.
At the end of the road he stops and again turns his he
ad. “You okay?” he shouts over the rumbling thunder of the engine.
Suddenly it hits me that I am, very much, okay. Even though I'm out of my element, having to trust a man I really don’t know, I already feel a thrill that I don’t want to end. “I’m fine. Why have we stopped?”
The revving of the engine almost drowns out the sound of his laughter, but I feel his body shake as he gives a carefree chuckle. Then he lets out the clutch, and the bike moves slowly forward, gradually picking up speed as he kicks through the gear changes.
I have fresh air cooling my face, an exhilaration like the one you get when riding a roller coaster, the feeling that you’re perfectly safe, yet absolutely not as the pavement rushes by beneath us. At the corners I lean with him, making sure my body moves with his, scared in case the bike continues to tilt right over, but the rider I’m holding onto for dear life feels totally relaxed with no tension or worries.
After a moment, I too allow the tension to seep out of my muscles. I’m enjoying this.
All too soon he pulls into the parking lot of a restaurant just outside of town. It’s not fancy, so jeans will be perfect, but not a dive either. I’ve been here before, and the food is amazing.
A very good choice for a first date.
I belatedly realise that I should have found out about our destination before and told someone who I was going out with tonight. Truth is, I expected my co-workers and friends to find it amusing, so had kept the details of my date quiet.
But hey, we’re here. I’m safe.
He taps my leg and I interpret it as a sign that I should get off the bike. I do, balancing my hand on his shoulder, then stand back as he walks the bike back into a parking spot. The ground feels firm and stable under legs which are still trembling from the vibration of the engine.
After taking my helmet and securing it in the saddlebag, he holds out his hand for me to take, his expression suddenly nervous. “I didn’t check, should have. This going to be okay for you, babe?”
I smile, possibly the most genuine I’ve yet summoned for him. “Perfect.”
“Come on then. Let’s get you fed.”
The next few minutes are taken up with being shown to a table he’d already had the foresight to book, then perusing the menus. Strangely I quickly become relaxed in his company and feel no need to make any pretence. I’ve been on dates before when I’ve eyed all the delicious sounding dishes, only to restrict myself to a salad as I think it’s expected, but with Skull I have no qualms in ordering the same as him, a steak with loaded potatoes. He nods approvingly as I do.
It’s while I’m sipping my wine and him slaking his thirst with a beer, that he reaches over the table and takes my hand.
“Tell me about yourself, Melissa.”
Another good sign. Some men I’ve been with make the evening all about them.
“I work for the city, but you already know that. I’ve got good folks up in Denver, no siblings, I was an only child. I love cooking and reading. See, I’m quite boring.”
“You’re not boring, Melissa. I reckon there’s a lot you’re not saying.”
I shrug. With me, what you see is about what you get. “How about you, Skull? Tell me about the MC and what you actually do for them.”
“Yeah.” His mouth twists. “The MC. Okay, you deserve to know what you might be getting into.” He takes another mouthful of beer. “The Satan’s Devils MC is like one big family. We’ve got a few chapters around—our mother chapter is in Tucson, Arizona—but I ride with the Pueblo crew.”
“The mother chapter. Do you have to do what they tell you?”
“Nah and yes.” He gives a quick grin. “The by-laws and regulations are the same all over, but the local prez runs things how he wants. We choose what businesses we want to get into.”
My heart stops. Is this where he’s going to tell me he’s a criminal? It’s easy sitting here with him, more natural than I would have thought. If he’s now going to list the reasons why he’s not right for me, I already know I’ll be upset. But I can’t tie my flag to the mast of a man who walks on the wrong side of life.
“Your face is very expressive.” He takes back my hand that I hadn’t realised I’d moved away. “Our businesses won’t cause you worry. We run a strip club, yes. Let’s get that out of the way. All the dancers work for us voluntarily, none of them are forced, and we don’t allow drugs on the premises. We also run a bowling alley that’s very family-orientated, a tattoo parlour and an auto-shop. Recently we’ve started up a new security business.”
I’d stiffened at strip club, but slowly became more relaxed as he listed the rest. “What do you do for them?”
“I started off at the auto-shop, but also work with Cad—he’s our computer expert—and one of my other biker brothers, Pal in SD security.”
My teeth worry my lip. “That’s not code for protection rackets, is it?”
Again, he tosses back his head and gives a hearty laugh. “Nah. We install state-of-the-art security systems.”
I’m thoughtful for a moment. “Sounds like any other company with diverse interests. How did the MC decide to get into those businesses, and how long have you ridden with the Satan’s Devils? Oh, and why?”
Chapter Five
Melissa
“That’s a lot of questions,” he observes. But he doesn’t seem at all upset I’ve asked him. “What do you know about motorcycle clubs?”
“I’ve heard of the big ones which have quite a reputation.” Mostly I’ve just watched Sons of Anarchy three times, but I keep that to myself.
“Yeah, I suspect you’re referring to the Wretched Soulz?”
I nod, I am. Though there are others, Wretched Soulz make the headlines quite a lot. They’re known throughout the southern states, all over North America really.
“We do have an affiliation with them, as we’re set up in their territory, but all that means is that they approve of how we run the club.” A strange look comes into his eyes. “We stay out of drugs and gun running.”
I tilt my head at his expression, though quickly it’s replaced by the more familiar smile once again. “Some clubs are set up by vets when they return from overseas. They’re looking for something they find is missing when they come back to civilian life. The Pueblo club started in the early eighties when the steel industry crashed. In fact, our clubhouse is in an old steel mill. Our barbeque pit is a furnace where they could melt half a train at a time.”
My eyes grow wide. “It must be huge.”
“It is,” he agrees, with a quick grin. “Well, getting back on topic. The ex-steelworkers who started the club wanted something to belong to, a place to call home, a family and an income. Back in those days the club wasn’t as clean as it is now. When Hellfire, that’s our current prez's Demon’s father, took over from his dad, Blackie, he joined forces with the Satan’s Devils and got the club out of the worst of the shit.”
“Hold on. You’re saying Demon is the grandson of the founder?” I shake my head. “Sounds like nepotism is alive and well.” I soften my statement with a smile.
“Well that’s their familial relationship, but anything else isn’t how it sounds.” He frowns. “No one got their position because of who they are. We were all happy to vote Demon in. Fuckin’ good man to lead us.”
Message to me, stay out of things I don’t know about. “You say it’s like a family?” I ask, wanting to get onto a safer topic.
“Yes. Take me, I’ve got no one of my own. Now, I’ve got more than a dozen brothers who’d give their lives for me. A few have ol’ ladies, and there’s even a kid.”
“Old ladies? Grandmothers?”
Another bark of laughter. “Nah, that’s what we call the wives or significant others.”
Sounds derogatory to me. Suddenly I realise bikers are a breed I know nothing about. “You don’t have an old lady?”
His eyes grow wide, then he snarls, “Wouldn’t be here with you if I had. Don’t roll that way. One woman at a time is all
I can handle.”
Well alright then. I seem to have touched another nerve. “So, tell me more about this family.”
Our steaks arrive. For a moment, conversation stops as we apply our fixings to our meals and begin to eat.
“I like that,” Skull points his fork at me.
“Mmm?” With a mouthful of delicious steak, I can’t respond.
“Your expression. You enjoying your food.” His face becomes heated. “Can’t help wondering if you wear that look when something else is in your mouth.”
A glass of water is hastily pushed in my direction as I choke on my food.
Recovered, I rasp, “I cannot believe you said that.” An unrepentant grin encourages me to have the courage to add, “That’s for me to know and you, if you get lucky, to find out.”
“Oh, I fully intend to get lucky at some point.” Skull catches me off guard once again. “Those lips and that sinful mouth, and your…” His hands wave down my body, and his eyes land on my breasts. “Mmm mmm. Bet you taste better than any steak.”
Flustered, I reach for my wine.
He’s not leering or making me uncomfortable. There’s something about the way he’s speaking that shows his appreciation of liberties he eventually anticipates, but there’s no pressure either. Despite him being so forward, instead of making me uneasy, he’s making me feel things that no one else ever has. He’s making me think of myself as a desirable woman. Suddenly it doesn’t matter that I’m larger than most, curvier than models in magazines and on billboards. Skull’s completely focused attention is making me feel feminine and wanted.
“If you could do anything, or go anywhere, what would it be and where?”
His question makes me do a one-eighty, but as though he realises he’s skating too close to the edge, Skull reels the conversation back in.
The rest of the evening continues in the same vein. Mostly spent getting to know each other, with occasional inappropriate comments from him, and heaven help me, a bit of flirting from my side too.
Satan’s Devils MC -Colorado Box Set: Books 4-6 Page 4