Biker romance book bundl.., p.345
Biker Romance Book Bundle: 17 Full Length Novels, page 345
I was just a normal girl who enjoyed doing abnormal shit.
“I told you. I needed a change,” I explained. “I just drove until I ran out of road. This was where the land ended, and the ocean started. So, I stopped.”
“You needed a change from what?”
I shrugged. “Life.”
“Just get out of a shitty relationship?”
I shook my head. “Good guess, but no.”
“Running from the law?” He chuckled.
It was also a good guess, but that wasn’t it, either. “Nope.”
“Needed a change, huh?”
“There wasn’t anything to keep me there. My dad died when I was twenty-one, and my mom was never in the picture. I stuck around for ten years, which is a heck of a lot longer than I thought I would. I think I just got tired of the cold weather. All my favorite movies were made out here, so I thought I’d come and see what all the hype was about.”
He reached across the table and touched my hand. “I’m sorry about your parents.”
George may have retired from the Marine Corps, but he still looked—and acted—the part in all respects. He was always in a hurry and he showed little emotion, other than anger. To have him act with compassion was a rarity.
“It’s okay,” I said. “My mom was a turd, and my dad had a bad liver.”
“Your father didn’t remarry?”
I shook my head. “I was the only woman in his life. He didn’t even date. At least he didn’t ever bring them home if he did. He was devoted to his work.”
“What did he do?”
“He was a locksmith.”
“What about your mother?”
I was born the daughter of a stripper with no desire to raise a child who was the product of a one-night-stand with one of her clients. After signing custody over to my father, she vanished.
“She was a stripper and a prostitute. I never really knew her. Not at all, really.”
He squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry.”
I was, too. There was nothing I could do about it, though. I often wondered how different my life might be if I was raised in a normal household by both parents.
It didn’t matter. Life happened, and I was who I was as a result. There was no changing it. My father force fed me the idea that there was a reason for everything that happened on earth. Consequently, I learned to accept life, and my actions, as being exactly what God intended.
“Were you kidding about that dry erase board thing?” I asked.
He smirked. “I don’t know, why?”
“I was just wondering.”
He glanced at the kitchen’s pass-thru window. “Could put it right between the window and the two-way door.”
“If you had one, I think I’d use it.”
He stood and reached for my plate. “Let me get you a fresh burger.”
Ten minutes later, I had a fresh burger and enough of an appetite to eat it. Soon thereafter, while I was reading a few chapters of Chris Voss’ guide on negotiating, Split the Difference, George returned.
“How was the burger?”
“Great, thank you.”
He tilted his head toward the kitchen. “Pen’s on the little tray underneath it.”
I peered over his shoulder. A two-foot by three-foot dry erase board was hanging on the wall beside the pass-thru window.
I leaped from my seat. “Can I write on it?”
“That’s what it’s for.” His brows knitted together. “No curse words or dirty pictures.”
It was like Christmas in January. I rushed to the board, picked up the pen, and scribbled my message on the board. After admiring my work, I turned around.
George was standing right behind me. “Looks like gibberish.”
“It’ll make sense to him. It better, anyway.”
“I sure hope so.” He chuckled. “Because it makes none to me.”
I glanced at the message. If it didn’t get results, maybe things just weren’t meant to be.
126
Goose
I sat down at the same booth Ally and I were seated in the day we officially met. As I studied the menu, the waiter approached.
“Did you see the board?” he asked.
I looked up. “Specials?”
“No.” He gestured behind me, toward the back of the restaurant. “There’s a note for you.”
I glanced over my shoulder.
A white board with elegant blue handwriting on it was mounted on the wall.
We’re done with our fish %^$#!&$ tacos…
It’s time to reevaluate the situation.
Scared?
I’m not.
Meet me at 6:00 pm
Reading it brought a smile to my face. “When did she write that?”
“This morning. Well, around noon, actually.”
It was just past five thirty. “Could you bring me one of those burgers she eats all the time? The one with the jalapenos and bacon? That’ll hold me over until she gets here.”
“Sure? Anything to drink?”
“Coffee, please. A pot of it if you’ve got it.”
“I’ll bring a carafe.”
Twenty minutes later I was done with the burger and had consumed half the carafe of coffee. I gazed out the window, trying to decide what I was going to do about the nosy detective. Ally’s ratty rust-colored Volkswagen came to a stop across the street.
She slung a backpack over her shoulder and sprinted across the street. Wearing a sleeveless button-up dress and weathered white Converse, I saw her resemblance to Ghost’s fiancé, Abby, for the first time. An odd warmth filled me upon making the connection.
She pushed the door open and made a beeline for where I was seated. She tossed her backpack into the booth and sat down. “I’m famished.”
Her bubbly ‘no bullshit” personality was absolutely adorable.
“Nice note,” I said with a laugh.
“I had to do something.”
“Why don’t you buy a phone?” I asked. “Hell, I’ll buy you one.”
“Why don’t you buy a car?” She cocked her head to the side. “Hell, I’ll buy you one.”
I laughed. “Point taken.”
She fidgeted with her backpack for a minute, and then looked up. “Do you think I’m pretty? Attractive, or whatever?”
The question took me by surprise. “I uhhm. Yeah, you’re attractive. Pretty. Why?”
The waiter stepped to the end of the table and gave Ally a nod. “Ally.”
“Hi, Lawson. I’ll have the Ribeye Dinner.”
“Is it good?” I asked.
“The best,” Ally responded. “It comes with garlic mashed potatoes, green beans with bacon and onions, and two hot rolls.”
“You better be hungry,” Lawson added. “It’s a twenty-ounce chunk of meat.”
My appetite had finally returned. I had a week of making up to do. A hearty meal sounded good. “I’ll have the same.”
He pointed to Ally. “Cooked medium? With milk?”
“Please, and yes, please.”
He shifted his eyes to me. “How would you like it cooked?”
“Medium.”
“Coffee?”
“I’ve still got some.”
“It’ll be about fifteen minutes on those,” he said, turning away as he spoke.
Ally twisted her hair into a bun. “So, you think I’m attractive, or whatever?”
“I do.”
Although a petite woman, Ally had a set of tits and an ass that transformed her into a curvaceous beauty. Body aside, she was an exceptionally beautiful woman. Her eyes alone would attract the attention of any man. Her full lips and long brown hair added to the ensemble, making the complete package irresistible.
Seeing her hair up gave her an elegant and refined appearance. I’d always found a woman’s neck sexy. As I became lost in admiration, it was immediately obvious my cock agreed.
Concealed from view by the table, I attempted to force my stiffening manhood into submission.
She gave me a puzzled look. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” I murmured.
She looked me over, pausing at my flexing bicep. “You’re doing something.”
I continued an unsuccessful effort to wrestle my cock into a flaccid state. “Were you going to make a point, or was that just a question you were wondering about? The attractive thing?”
She leaned to the side and peered beneath the table. Following a lengthy assessment, she looked up. “What are you doing with your dick?” she whispered.
“Trying to get it to settle down.”
“Is it out of control?”
“It’s getting that way.”
She put on a look of innocence. “Why?”
“Because it likes it when your hair’s up, that’s why.”
“It’s gets excited over that?”
I rolled my eyes. “It gets excited over weird shit.”
Wearing a smile of accomplishment, she nodded toward the incident in question. “Is it getting any better?”
“It is now that we’re talking,” I said. “Just keep talking.”
“It doesn’t like talking?”
“My dick?” I chuckled. “No, it hates talking. Talking bores it.”
She laughed a dry laugh. “But my hair up excites it?”
“Apparently.”
She reached for her bun, unraveled it, and then shook her hair down over her shoulders. “Better?”
It began to recede. I conjured up an image of a coast to coast trip in her Volkswagen. The reaction was instantaneous.
I reached for my coffee. “It’s headed in the right direction.”
“That’s good, I guess.”
A few seconds later, I’d succeeded. I rested my forearms against the table and wrung my hands together. “There. All better.”
She scrunched her nose. “Dicks are weird.”
They were. She should try having one. I laughed. “Tell me about it.”
Lawson reached over her shoulder and handed her a glass of milk. “Here you go. Food will be just a bit.”
She flashed him a smile. “Thank you.”
When he was gone, she sipped her milk. “Do you control it, or does it control you?”
“I’ve never really thought about it,” I responded. “I don’t know.”
“Well, look at it this way. When it gets excited, do you react? Or does it react when you get excited.”
I’d never given it much thought. After she’d mentioned it, I found it amusing. I made decisions based on what my cock was doing. When it got hard, I reacted. There was no two ways about it, my dick led me in the direction it wanted me to go.
“I think it’s always dick first, me second,” I admitted.
“So, if I wouldn’t have let my hair down, you would have been forced to react?”
“What do you mean?”
“If I would have left my hair up, you would have stayed aroused. Sitting there with a stiff dick, you would have been forced to react, right?”
“React or leave,” I said. “Or be in agony, I guess.”
“Which would you have done?”
“I’d have probably left,” I said in a dry tone.
“Oh really?” She lowered her chin and gave me a look like I’d told the lie of the century. “You’d have left?”
I fought to remain straight-faced. “Probably.”
“Probably, huh?” She wagged her head from side to side mockingly. “I think you’re full of shit.”
I took a sip of coffee and shrugged. “Everyone’s got an opinion.”
She glared at me for a moment. She began unbuttoning her dress. With my eyes glued to her delicate hands, I watched intently as she unfastened it past her flesh-colored bra.
She pulled the cups of her bra down and exposed a set of very perfect tits. She cupped them in her hands. As if it were an everyday occurrence, she peered down and squeezed the flesh.
My cock rose against my jeans with such force that it sent a wave of pain through me. I glanced over each shoulder and then gave her a narrow-eyed look. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Checking my boobs for lumps.” She tilted her head toward my crotch. “What are you doing?”
“Put them up,” I demanded.
“You said I was attractive. So, are you scared of sex?” She squeezed her boobs. “Or just scared of me? It’s one or the other. Or, it could be the other thing I mentioned.” She squeezed them again. “The one that made you mad.”
I’d been chased by the cops, shot at, stabbed, hit in the head with a baseball bat, and been in more armed stand-offs during bank robberies that Bonnie and Clyde. I wasn’t scared of her. I wasn’t scared of sex.
I wasn’t scared of anything.
“I was joking about saying I would have left.” I nodded toward her tits. “Put ‘em up.”
“Make me.”
Having someone shake their bare tits at me in a restaurant wasn’t something I was accustomed to. A girl with a sassy mouth was new to me as well. Apparently, I liked both. My cock became an entirely different degree of hard. One I had no idea existed.
I clenched my jaw. “Put. Them. Up.”
She squeezed her tits and grinned. “Make me.”
“You little smart-ass,” I said though my teeth. “I’m not going to ask you again.”
“I’m not going to tell you again.” She did the side-to-side thing with her head. “Make. Me.”
I could feel each pulse of my heart in my groin. I glanced at her tits and then met her gaze. Auburn ribbons of hair trickled over the front of her shoulders, coming to rest against her cream-colored skin. She was irresistibly adorable.
I considered my options.
I stood.
My cock ached. My head spun. I was in agony. I grabbed her wrist. “We’re leaving. Put your dress up, or I’m going to drag your smart-mouthed ass through this restaurant with your tits hanging out for everyone to see.”
“Where…where are we going?” she stammered.
“To your car,” I growled. “I’m going to teach you a lesson about talking shit to bikers.”
127
Ally
The pale blue glow from a distant streetlight filtered through the windshield. I lowered my bare ass against his legs. Smashed into the passenger seat, he struggled to get comfortable. With each movement he made, his stiff cock teetered back and forth, banging against the inside of my thighs.
I ached to feel him inside of me.
He exhaled a forced breath. “Do these seats recline?”
I pried myself away from the dash. “There’s a lever on the right. Lift it up.”
The seat shot back with a snap, taking him—and me—with it.
Giggling, I sat up. “That’d be the one.”
He pushed his hand against the center of my back, forcing my chest against the dash. “These little pieces of German shit weren’t made for fucking in, where they?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never—”
The tip of his cock grazed my clit. My body tensed. The pressure against my folds became intense. I was soaking wet, but it didn’t seem to be helping matters.
I clenched my teeth. “Maybe we should—”
His girth sank into me slowly, taking my words—and my breath—away completely.
I slapped my hands against the windshield.
Dear fucking God.
I had no expectations that dinner in a fancy French restaurant or a bouquet of flowers would precede my first sexual romp with Goose. Ultimately, I wanted his dick, his heart, and his trust. He’d impaled me with the first part of that equation. The second would come naturally. The third, with time.
I braced myself and drew a deep breath.
He gripped my waist and lifted my weight from him, slightly. His hips—and his cock—withdrew.
“Jesus,” I breathed. “It felt like you shoved a—”
He slammed himself into me fully.
Fuck.
“Fuck!” I howled. “Easy, I’m not—”
He did it again.
I pressed my hands against the dash and flexed my biceps. Hoping to prevent him from using me as a platform for his jackhammer-like antics, I forced myself against him.
It was an exercise in futility. My strength was no match for him.
He continued to pound away, filling me with every inch of his thick cock each time his hips slapped against my ass with a clap.
If my childhood taught me nothing else, I learned to embrace the unthinkable. So, that’s exactly what I did. I closed my eyes, became limp against his strength, and allowed him to use me at his will.
He did just that.
Frantically, he tore at my dress. “This. Motherfucker’s. Got. To. Go.”
Seconds later, the flowered garment landed in a pile beside me. My bra followed.
I was stark naked in my car at 6:15. Thankful that it was winter—and dark—but aggravated that I hadn’t spent the money to tint my windows, I glanced toward the diner.
He must have noticed my lack of attention toward what we were doing.
His hips slammed against my ass. My head came crashing against the windshield. I felt his cock in my chest.
“Something in there you’re worried about?” He cupped my boobs with his massive hands. “You’ll be back in there as soon as I pump your tight little pussy full of cum.”
I was a sucker for dirty talk. My eyes fluttered, and then fell closed.
Do it.
“Do it.” I clenched my jaw and braced my hands against the windshield.
His fingers sank into the flesh of my breasts, pinching my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. Pulling against them, he forced me to lean forward, giving him more room to work his dick magic.
I wanted to say something smart-assed to rile his temper and get him to fuck me like he was mad at me, which was basically what he’d been doing since we started. I liked being fucked hard when I was in the mood.
