Hard Core: Biker MC Motorcycle Club Menage Steamy 3 Story Bundle Set (Hot Tales From a Hard Road Book 1) (14 page)

Chapter 10

Jess made her way across the dusty lot to the shadows where she had parked. She swung her legs over her beloved bike, but she didn’t start it up straight away. She sat and thought about what had happened.

She had wanted to come and get a peek at the MC world and she had certainly gotten that.

She hadn’t been looking for an emotional attachment, and she wasn’t out in pursuit of the powerful feelings that had churned her insides. As she reached for her keys, she heard boots scrape quickly on the ground behind her.

Ryder couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. “Woah! You sneak off around the corner, and you’re leaving on a motorcycle? I didn’t even know you could ride, girl.”

She glared at him. “I keep quiet about it because I didn’t want you—didn’t want
anyone
in the club to see my damned bike.”

“Why? You ashamed of it?”

“Of a pristine nineteen fifty eight, four-forty-one BSA Shooting Star? Ashamed, are you nuts? I fucking love it.”

“So?”

“So I know you club guys and your ‘only American built motorcycles.’ I can’t ride a Harley, I’m too small. An eight-eighty-three Sportster is five hundred and fifty pounds. I can’t ride that.”

She scowled. “If I showed up in front of the clubhouse on this, it might just as well be a damn Honda as far as you bikers are concerned. I’d get nothing but shit for it, so I kept it to myself.”

The light was bad and she must have imagined it, but there was a glow of respect in Ryder’s eyes. Quietly he asked her, “This your only mount?”

“No.” She sighed. He grinned. His grin just about melted her pants.

“Come on, spill. You
have
got a Honda, right?”

“No, but, like I said, it could just as well be. I’ve got a T120.”

“A Triumph Bonneville? No good for club business, like you say, and you couldn’t follow with one either, but as a ride there ain’t much wrong with a Bonneville. What year?”

“Sixty-six.” She watched his eyebrows briefly lift.

“You look after them yourself?”

“Of course.”

The light in his eyes burned hotter.

Through her teeth she said, “
Don’t
let anyone at the club know, okay? Promise me.”

“Honestly, ain’t nothing to be ashamed of.”

“
Promise
me.”

He had on a little boyish grin again but he gave in and said it, “Okay, okay. I promise.”

There. He had said it before she realized the implications. He had made an oath to her. He had given her a promise. She knew, even if he was wishing right now that he could suck the words back in, that was a serious matter for him. He made a promise, and he would keep it.

The one thing, maybe the only thing, these bikers took as seriously as their bikes was their honor.

Ryder had made a promise to her. That was huge. Maybe it wasn’t only about her bike. But maybe it was.
Keep your head straight, Jess
, she told herself.

She looked up into his eyes and she was sure the significance wasn’t lost on him. His nostrils flared and his dark, golden eyes gleamed. Jesska’s mouth was dry and she moistened her lips with her tongue.

He seized her.

One hand behind her head and the other under her ass, he swept her to him. She gasped as his hard body pulsed against her.

Her soft flesh formed against his as he crushed her against him. His hot breath fanned her face and his eyes searched hers with an urgent need.

Her lips parted and they were together. Her body vibrated and sang as he squeezed her ass and clamped her face to his own. His strong lips made a seal that blew the world away. Their hot, short breaths danced in a column and entwined as a force.

She clawed him to her, felt his need and hers clamor for union. Her nipples stung as her breasts pressed against his hard, beating chest. Her fingers raked and clawed at his shirt, his jeans and his neck.

Her head filled with his scent and hers, mingled together. Their breaths joined in fierce, animal snorts. They fed on each other and devoured each other. Their bodies together made one—one heaving engine of pent-up fire.

She held his face in her hands and gently he let her feet back to the ground. Still they kissed, but deeply, tenderly, intimately. His fingers brushed her cheeks, andstroked her neck. She felt the hard cage of his ribs, traced the lines of his stomach, breathed in his scent.

Kaleidoscope flashes of every emotion she knew went through her, from fear to soft safety, from calm to nerve-crackling thrill. She lived a lifetime in his hot, wet kiss.

He held her with her head on his shoulder. She wanted more. The excitement in her body, in her breasts, and her groin was screaming for more. She could smell the heat in her panties as well as feel how wet they were. She wanted to claw at him and rip their clothes off, right there, right then. She wanted to feel all of him, and feel him on all of her.

The bulge in the front of his pants swelled hot and hard against her. Her hips rocked along and against it. As she pressed her tingling mound along the stiffening ridge that stretched his hard denim, her thighs shook and sensation welled up and rose like waves within her. Her breasts heaved against him.

His breath was hot, sweet and dark. His eyes melted her. She held herself back. She wanted him, wanted to open up, to let him in, to trust him and to be safe in his arms. She let him hold her as she trembled.

She moaned as he squeezed her breast and pushed her sore nipple to rub harder against the fabric inside her bra. She wanted to be out of her clothes so much.

She took his breath in and his tongue touched hers for the first time. Her arms flung themselves around his sturdy, thick, strong neck to pull herself closer against his rippling, firm body. His thick, supple lips fastened on her, held and possessed her. He took her as his own, as her soft, eager mouth opened to let him in so she could give herself up to him.

Her breasts pressed against the firm rise and fall of his hard, wide chest. Her hands raked over his back as it rolled like thick, molten iron. Her buttocks clenched as she wound her legs tighter on his thigh.

Pressing in front of her skirt, a large, heavy beast straightened and slowly rose to stand. Fat and hard, it pulsed in the front of his jeans, thrumming insistently against the top of her quivering thigh, agonizingly near to her own swelling heat.

Her hip pushed back against his stiffening pride. Still locked in the depth of the kiss, she felt his smile, his strength. His heart thumped against her chest.

His hand meanwhile strayed down to the front of her skirt. Then it slipped inside. Her mind wanted to resist,but her body moved towards him. As he pressed on the top of her mound, her thighs clamped his, every muscle in her body clenched, and she sighed.

He pushed down on her pelvic bone and it made her wild for the touch of his fingers, his skin, on her, both there and below.

Ryder slid his fingers into her panties. Her hips jerked at the touch of his skin on hers. She meant for her body to push him away, but somehow it drew him tighter. Closer. As his fingers roamed lower, her hips strained up to him.

She ached for his touch. Thrummed at the strength and the skill of his fingers. He pressed down to feel where she was moist and then pulled his fingers back to rub higher up, slowly.

She moaned and clung to him and his finger slid up and then around. Her buttocks clenched and her thighs shook as the rising waves of sensation began to overtake her. She should make him stop. Yes.
YES
. But not yet.

She pulled back. She managed to say his name, “Ryder?”.

“Jesska?”

“I’m…” she tried to say, ‘I’m not ready’ but her voice choked off. She pressed her hand on his chest. She tried to push him away, but she wanted to feel his strength. With her hand on the back of his head, her fingers entwined in his hair. She pulled him to her and their mouths met again.
 

She stroked his hard neck as they kissed. Her breath quaked in his mouth. She had only ever kissed one other man with a mustache, and he was much, much older, a professor. It wasn’t like this. Not at all like this.

She thought he would press her to go further. Her insides wrenched between wanting him to and wanting to resist. In a dizzying flash she knew that what she wanted most was for him to press her, so that she could resist, and for him then to overcome her.

She shuddered and shook. She kissed him and clung to him and her emotions churned through her body. He held her waited.

When her shaking subsided, he asked her, “Come back into the clubhouse?”

“No. I should go. Let’s stay out here a little longer though. Stay with me?”

His eyes flashed and at his soft smile, her knees threatened to buckle.

Ryder told her that Mace was from the Skull
s
and he had come with a deal. As he was a guest from another club, Blades had obligations to offer hospitality. Remembering him in that back room Jess thought,
That went a lot further than any kind of hospitality I know about
, but she kept it to herself.

She wanted to know more about what was happening in the ‘rumpus room,’ but she didn’t want to ask. She had a strong sense too that if she found out she’d regret it. She wanted to take him on trust,even against the odds, the evidence of her eyes, and the storm of emotion that brewed up inside her as she clung to him.

Chapter 11

Haughey, Red Skulls VP, was the acting president while Iron was on his enforced leave of absence. The big, red-headed Irishman came to the clubhouse door to greet Ryder and Bear. He gave both of them wide smiles, firm bro-hugs, put an arm on each of their shoulders and steered them to the bar.

It seemed every man in the club clapped their shoulders. Whiskey flowed and Haughey said he would take them into a back room, “To nail the details.”

Bear whispered to Ryder, “Details? I didn’t think we’d agreed yet.”

The Red Skulls had a setback, something of a disruption of service, when Iron, their President, and his Sergeant-at-Arms, Jam, both had been hauled into the cells forselling, or allegedly attempting to sell, a pound and a half of ninety-six percent pure coke, according to Bear’s contact in the PD.

Bear spoke quietly into Ryder’s ear, “Never mind that nobody sells coke that pure, nobody can even get coke that pure. It’s been stepped on harder than that before it ever gets near a US border.”

Ryder nodded. “Damn right. That isn’t a commodity, that’s a goddamned collectors item.”

Bear said, “And, forget that the Skulls don’t ever sell coke wholesale. The biggest bag anyone ever bought from them would be about an ounce, two at the most. The Skulls ship or buy coke wholesale, and they sell it retail.”

“Makes no sense,” Ryder agreed.

Bear went on, “While we’re at it, just overlook about the fact that the two senior men in the club would never be out on the street for a one-time deal.” Their eyes met and Bear said, “Street whores in Tijuana smell less of fish than that deal.”

So, the Skulls’ top men are in the county lock-up, and their VP comes to Blades MC, asking them to take over the Skulls’ next monthly arms shipment. He’s offering a big slice of the Skulls’ main earner to Blades, a rival club. Blades send Ryder and Bear to the meet on their behalf, and Ryder, an unaffiliated nomad. Haughey doesn’t even bat an eye.

No, he treats Ryder like he’s the goddamn rainmaker, and Bear like he’s the King of Spain.

Haughey brought four girls into the back room with them. The stacked redhead carried a spliff and a baggie full of weed, and the petite raven-haired minx had a silver tray with a bottle of bourbon and gleaming shot glasses.

Bear and Ryder settled on a couch. Bear whispered, “Let’s just see where this road leads.”

The girls’ wide eyes shone. Women always wanted a piece of Ryder, and he was usually happy to oblige. It wasn’t often that a motorcycle club high council member came offering his best girls as—as what, a tribute? as a sweetener?—but why did Haughey want to please them so bad? It should have been the other way around.

Bear was determined to take full advantage of the gifts on offer. Two of the girls dragged his jeans open and they squealed and giggled as they hauled out his long, thick cock. They took turns to lick along the length of it, to suck on his balls and to plunge their young mouths over his proud, stiffening shaft.

He slowly pulled the redhead’s panties down over her nubile thighs and chuckled at her pubes, shaved into a red heart. Her eyes widened when he sunk his bearded face into her soft, tight little wet pussy. Her back arched and her hands flew into her hair as she moaned and rocked her pelvis on his mouth.

Ryder watched with a detached look of amusement and accepted a fat joint from the nimble black-haired girl. She stroked and nuzzled his chest, nibbled at his nipples and slid her sharp teeth down his abs.

When she dragged her neat little nails down his stomach and got to his belt, he breathed thick and hard, but to her surprise and his, he pulled her hands gently away. “Restricted zone, sweetheart,” he told her with a smile.

He could have just been having some fun, but he realized that he knew what he wanted. This young girl, lovely though she was, was not it. He had no appetite for distraction. He knew where the real thing was. Bear saw what was going on and, when he figured it out, he did his level best to torture Ryder.