Reverence: MC Romance (The Davis Chapter Book 3) (12 page)

I whimpered as he went on. “You were such a pure, innocent girl until I got a hold of you. Then what happened? You turned into some beautiful, horny, little biker slut, didn’t you?”

I bit my bottom lip and nodded. A moan was all I could manage.

Romero’s finger danced lightly over my skin. “And that’s exactly how I like you. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, Julie. Although, it would probably be nicer if your pretty, little cheeks matched.”

He brought his hand down hard on my ass, and new sensations of pain and pleasure ripped through me. I cried out, quickly bringing my hand up to cover my mouth. Bent over his knees, I was at Romero’s will. As much as I loved the spanking, if I wasn’t good, I wouldn’t get my sweet reward.

His fingers tracked back over my ass, then slipped between my legs. My sweet wetness was waiting for him, and Romero didn’t waste any time before he slid two fingers inside of me. I gasped and arched me back toward him. Before I could get far, though, Romero had his other hand at the back of my neck.

Every sound, every touch set me on fire. I went from turned on to insane with desire in such a short amount of time. I don't think my heart had a chance to slow down once.  Romero’s fingers slid in and out of my wet pussy, and his other hand dug my neck, keeping me exactly where he wanted me. I whimpered and tried to push back to meet his fingers. Each time they filled me, his hand pressed against my ass. Being stretched and filled was heaven.

Despite his tight grip, I managed to turn to my sexy, dominant biker. As I did my best to push back into him, I pleaded, “Hurry, Romero, I need your cock so badly."

He responded by giving me a hard spank. "Are you giving me orders, baby?"

"No, but I'm dying for your cock, that's all."  I wiggled my ass and hips back at him.

He slapped me again, on the other cheek this time. The pain and bruising from earlier in the week were still present, and it was like a flash of pain accompanied by a memory.  "What a bad biker slut."

I moaned again. "I sure am.  What are you going to do with your biker slut?"  I wiggled more, doing all I could to get him to slide his fingers inside of me again.

"I think I'll fuck her tight, little pussy until she cries out."  Romero moved quickly, standing and throwing me against a dresser. His pants dropped, and I saw his rock hard cock in his hand. I licked my lips, ready to get fucked for only the second time in my life.  I gripped the drawers as Romero’s cock found my pussy.  I held on tightly as he rammed his manhood into me from behind.  He stretched me and made me scream out.

Pleasure surged from his cock through my body as he pressed against my g-spot with every thrust. The feeling was new and intense, taking over my mind and body. I held on because Romero was hitting me hard from behind.  He grabbed my hips, slamming into me but holding me steady at the same time.  Our moans filled his bedroom, and soon we were both crying out together.

When Romero was close to coming, he wrapped his arm around my waist.  My whole body shook as he fucked me.  

"I'm gonna explode, you bad, little biker whore." His words were strained and gravelly.

"Yes, do it, baby. Teach me a lesson with your cock." His words were getting me so hot that I couldn’t help but be as naughty with my own.

Romero let out one last manly grunt and pushed his body forward into mine. My fingers were grasping at the wood of the dresser. Romero’s big shaft pushed far inside, stretching me and sending waves of pleasure up my body.

He pressed forward as his body and mine became one. His eruption was massive, filling me with a heavenly sensation and making me tingle. I urged him on, saying, "Yes, give it to me. Good boy."

He moaned and dug his fingers into me. Romero’s body finally gave in, and he relaxed. He let his weight rest on me, and I loved holding him up. He was breathing heavy. His heart beat hard and loud against my back.  It was beyond my wildest fantasies. When he finally slid out of me, I realized it had taken all of my will to stay standing.

My knees were useless, but he was there for me. Romero kept his arm around my waist. Supporting me, he moved me back to the bed. It felt like I was floating. Maybe it was the endorphins rushing through my system, or maybe it was Romero’s strength. When he laid me down, it felt like a soft, cool cloud.

I could barely speak, let alone move my body from the bed. I watched as Romero stood up and stretched his arms over his head. He was buck naked, his military muscle and biker tattoos on full display. Even though the two of us had been on one hell of a ride together, my cheeks still flushed as I watched him.

After cracking his neck, Romero pulled the curtains over his bedroom window. It was ten in the morning, and we were doing it completely backwards. The meeting with hair it wasn't for twelve hours, and both of us needed to catch up on sleep. I thanked God that his curtains all but blanked out the sun.

Romero walked around to his side of the bed and slid beneath the sheets. His cock was still half hard, and I wondered if we would go at it one more time before finally giving in to sleep. I was so impressed and turned on that Romero could bounce back so quickly for another round. As much as I would’ve loved to experience Romero three times in one morning, I dozed off before anything more could happen.

I woke to the glorious smell of brewing coffee. It was like a god damn Folger’s commercial. I took a deep breath and sat up in bed, a dreamy smile on my face.

I had just thrown an old t-shirt on when Romero stepped inside with two mugs.

“Oh, god, yes. Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

Romero laughed and shook his head as he handed me a steaming mug. I held it close to my nose and took in a deep breath. That rejuvenating scent filled my lungs. The first sip was perfectly hot, and it was the last little thing I needed to wake up.

“Mmm. Thank you. How long was I out?” A small lamp on his side of the bed was the only light in the room. I looked over to the window, but the curtains were still closed tight. Romero set his coffee down on his dresser and threw open the curtain. I braced myself for blinding sunlight, but only a dim orange meandered in. It was close to sunset.

He turned back to me. “Quarter to nine. I figured the coffee would bring you out of the coma. You're lucky, because if the coffee didn't do it, the ice bucket was next.”

“Oh, so funny. Try that sometime and see how it works out for you.”

“I just might do that.” Romero had a boyish look. It was beautiful, but it made me sad. “What's with the face, babe?”

My first plan had been to get the two clubs to live in peace, but I didn’t think that was a possibility, anymore. “I don't think we can stay here. Even if everything goes exactly to plan, I don't know if I can ever feel safe in this town again. Let’s say we actually did dismantle my father's entire club; it still wouldn't be enough.”

For a moment, Romero didn’t say anything. It was understandable, because I had dumped quite a bit out in a short time.

“You know, this is the first place I've lived for more than a full year.” Romero sat down on the end of the bed and looked around the room. “I know it ain't much, but damn it feels good to settle in one place for a little bit of time. “

Romero let out a sigh, and he didn't have to say anything more. He didn't want to leave. Maybe he had been humoring me the whole time, maybe not. Whatever the case, I had my answer.

“Fine.” I slid out from under the sheet, looking for my clothes.

“Julie, come on.”

“No. Really. It's fine.” I pulled my jeans up and grabbed my phone. “Let's just get this over with, and I guess we'll go from there, huh?”

Romero tossed his hands in the air and let them drop to his sides. “Fucking whatever. I gotta get to the club, anyway. Or did you forget that there’s a dozen bikers there in case all hell breaks loose?”

I was too angry to say anything else. Without looking him in the eye, I stormed out of Romero’s place. I’d be at the meeting early, but I didn't want to stick around and argue with Romero. We both had a flair for the dramatic, and our relationship was under enough strain.  Some time apart might do us some good. That's what I told myself, anyway.

I knew Romero was being honest with me. He always had been, but after everything with my father, I didn't want to get my heart racing all over again. I had to put that out of my head until after the meeting with Harris.

I got a text from an unknown number.

It’s Harris.
 

An address followed, and I punched it into my phone. The Yolo County Airport.
Whatever
, I thought. It was on the outskirts of town and just about abandoned. It would work just fine.

As the sun descended, I headed out of town. My mind should’ve been on the meeting, but it was with Romero. I couldn’t get over the tone in his voice when he talked about his home. A grave feeling that he would never leave struck me. My choices were grim, to say the least. I could run away without Romero, or stay with him and risk my life. Neither appealed to me all that much.

Getting to the meeting early was actually a good thing. It gave me a chance to park the car out of sight, and I could look around the place little bit. I stashed the BMW in the parking lot of the gun range nearby the airport. Poetic, if I do say so myself.

The place was bigger than I remembered. A few roads came in and out, and the place had more than its share of trees. It was the ideal place for a secret meeting as long as you didn’t want to feel safe in the slightest.

As the darkness around me grew, I wondered if I was making the right deal. The Rising Sons had gone out of their way to protect me, but if Romero and I split, the protection was gone. Without Romero, I was nothing but their enemy again.

No, no. I told myself that my father and his motorcycle club were the enemy. Other than tending to wounds and serving food at barbecues, I had nothing to do with the club. I had nothing to do with their dealings, and I had no intention of it. I posed no threat to them. The real question was whether they would see it that way or not.

Faith. I had to talk to Faith. She seems to be the most sensible person I had met in years. My mother was a club president’s wife, but her sense was gone after the money and easy living had taken their toll on her. Even Raven seemed preoccupied by the fighting and glory. I liked her, but she was definitely one of the boys.

I told myself that no matter what happened with Harris, I needed to get a hold of Faith.

Bouncing lights on one of the gravel side roads snapped me back to attention. As it got closer, I saw that it was a pickup. I didn’t recognize the truck as belonging to any of the Branchers, so unless it was a lost farmer, it was Harris.

Once the truck was close enough to see me, I raised my hand. As the truck slowed to a stop, I looked all around me. My father was out there somewhere. This meeting was crucial for him and his club, and I bet it killed him not to be there. The truck came to a stop, dust floating out ahead of it and swirling in headlights. The door opened, and a shadowy figure stepped out.

Time seemed to come to a stop as I realized just how stupid the whole thing was. I was meeting a stranger without any backup; without even a weapon of my own. Memories of being in the car with Aaron came back to me, and a fear that had been dormant for so long surfaced. Those memories jumpstarted my heart, but my feet were frozen in the lights of the truck. Even if I was terrified, this was a means to an end. I could neuter my father if things went down right. I had to stay strong, but I would have killed to have Romero as backup.

“Julie Capriani, I presume?” The door shut with a squeak as he stepped forward. He was just a kid.
 

 
Going against my instincts, I stayed put as Harris stepped into the light. “Yup. That must make you Harris. How old are you, anyway?” My voice came out stronger than I’d anticipated. That was very good.

With a small laugh, he said, “Seventeen. Just a few weeks from legal.”

Ignoring his attempt at charm or a joke or whatever it was, I extended a hand. He shook it and then leaned against the hood of his truck between the headlights. His movements seemed calm, and the look on his face was nothing short of bland. Actually, bland could describe every little bit of Harris. From what I can tell, the truck was a tan color, he wasn’t dressed particularly well, and I could see why he might need to make a big trade to spend some time with a woman.