Riding Dirty (17 page)

He pulled her against him, belly to belly. Although she wasn’t a tall woman, her heels gave her a few extra inches, so kissing her wasn’t awkward. She tilted her head back and he covered her mouth with his, plunging his tongue inside. She moaned and threaded her fingers through his hair. He liked that. He liked her eager hands, skating over him. Her sweet little tongue, curling around his.

He groaned and cupped her cute ass, lifting her against him. His fingers pressed between her buttocks. He wanted her naked. Now.

“Take off your clothes,” he said, releasing her.

She glanced around, eyes dark with excitement. A pulse fluttered at the base of her throat. Removing her bomber jacket, she pulled her tank top over her head, revealing a cherry-red bra in sheer lace. His cock throbbed at the sight.

“Keep that on.”

She sat down on the bench to take off her boots. Then she unbuttoned her jeans and wiggled free of them. Her panties matched the bra, and they were transparent. He could see the delicate strip of hair above her cleft and the damp spot between her legs. His hands were shaking, his pulse racing.

“I like those,” he said, indicating her panties.

She left them on.

He took a seat across from her, on the edge of the fountain. “Touch yourself.”

Inhaling a sharp breath, she cupped her breasts, plumping them together. With a low moan, she squeezed her nipples between her fingers. Then she used her fingertips to pluck and pinch them. She wasn’t gentle.

He watched with interest, his cock aching. “Are you wet?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

Smoothing her hands down her sleek stomach, she spread her thighs wide. He could see most of her pussy through the fabric of her panties, but she tugged aside the lacy crotch, baring herself to him completely. Then she slipped one slender finger inside her body, biting her lip. When she removed her finger, it was shiny.

“Suck it.”

She did, sliding her finger in and out of her mouth. He was too enraptured to speak. Taking her own initiative, she buried two fingers in her pussy, thrusting deep. Then she turned her attention to her clit, circling and stroking with slippery fingers. After a minute or two, her breaths grew ragged and her cheeks became flushed.

“Are you going to come?”

She leaned back against the bench, working her fingers faster. “Yes.”

“Don’t.”

Her eyes flew open. “What?”

“Don’t come yet. I’m paying you to suck my cock, remember?”

A crease formed between her brows, but she didn’t protest. She stopped touching herself and awaited his instructions.

He stood and unbuttoned his fly. Stepping forward, he presented his cock to her. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft and pumped him up and down. Her pale, slender hand made an erotic contrast to his dark-flushed skin. He knew that women enjoyed his size, but he was a crude-looking beast, veiny and thick. Which was why it was so hot to watch a beautiful mouth or a pretty hand on him.

When he made a fist in her hair, she parted her lips for him. She didn’t deep-throat like a porn star, but she took as much as she could, which was quite a lot. He guided her head up and down, groaning as she swallowed more. His shaft became wet with her saliva. She moaned around him, her lips stretched wide. Tears smeared her mascara, giving her a messy, slutty look he loved. She cupped his balls, squeezing them gently. Then she released his cock to kiss them, pumping his slippery shaft with one hand. She alternated between licking his balls and sucking his cock, drawing out his pleasure.

It was no use; he couldn’t last. This was the hottest blow job of his life. He buried his hands in her hair and thrust his hips, fucking her eager mouth.

“I’m going to come on your tits,” he gasped, withdrawing.

She peeled down the cups of her bra, the straps falling off her shoulders. Her dusky-pink nipples sent him over the edge. He pumped his cock furiously, directing it at her chest. Hot jets spurted from the tip, decorating her lovely skin. Her parted lips drew his attention. With one hand in her hair and the other fisting his cock, he painted her mouth, too. When he was finished, she had his cum all over her.

He reached into his pocket with a trembling hand, offering her a clean handkerchief. Then he collapsed on the bench beside her, knees weak. She rose and dipped the fabric in the fountain before using it to clean herself up.

“Was that worth two-fifty?” she asked.

He dug out his money clip and counted out three bills, tossing them to her. “Every penny.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

M
IA GATHERED THE
bills and tucked them into her bra, pleased with herself.

And desperately aroused.

She’d been nervous about their date all day. Before he picked her up on his motorcycle, she’d paced the parking lot, replaying their conversation from the previous night. She’d wondered if he was still angry with her. She’d worried that he’d try to take her somewhere romantic and treat her like a girlfriend.

Instead he’d treated her like a whore. And she’d loved it.

She curled up next to him on the bench. He was sitting with his eyes closed and his fly unbuttoned. Although his penis was tucked away, his boxer shorts were visible. They were green plaid today.

It would be more polite to give him time to recover, but she couldn’t wait. She pushed his leather vest off his shoulders and pressed her mouth to the spider web on his neck. She licked his salty skin with a breathy moan. She’d put her mouth on his cock again if that would wake it up. She needed his thick shaft inside her. Or his fingers, his tongue, a handy foreign object...she wasn’t picky.

He let her divest him of his vest and then took off his white T-shirt. God, his body. He was big and hard all over. Broad shoulders, bulging biceps, flat belly. He had a furry strip on his stomach and dark, dense pubic hair.

He roused at her touch. Sliding his hand around her waist, he bent her head back and kissed her. A thank-you kiss, deep and hot. His tongue thrust inside, mimicking the act she’d just performed. She explored his torso with greedy hands, squirming against him. Wanting him between her legs, not just in her mouth.

“How about that spanking?” he murmured, moving his lips to her throat.

She spread her thighs on a low moan. When he’d ordered her not to come, she’d been very close to exploding. She was still teetering on the edge, her panties clinging to her wet pussy. “Please.”

His fingertips brushed the lips of her sex and she whimpered.

“I’ll take care of you.”

“Yes.”

“For a fee.”

She recoiled in surprise. “What?”

“My services aren’t cheap.”

“
Ladrón.
”

He laughed at the Spanish word for thief. He might have heard it before, but she figured her expression was easy enough to read. Mia didn’t have to pay for his services. She could put her hand down her panties and be done in thirty seconds or less. But she couldn’t spank herself. The heat of his wide palm tempted her, along with his rough touch and hard body. She dug the money out of her bra and set it on the bench.

Smiling at her acquiescence, he placed his leather vest on the ground between his boots. “Kneel.”

Pulse racing, she sank to his feet. He bent her over one knee, her bottom tilted up high and her stomach pressed to his hard thigh. She grasped the edge of the wrought-iron bench, bracing herself as he lowered her panties.

She’d been spanked before. On her last birthday with Philip, they’d come home tipsy and made love in the kitchen. Then she’d donned a party hat and eaten cake in the nude. He’d offered to give her a birthday spanking. She’d agreed, giggling. What started out as a joke turned into something sweetly erotic.

There was nothing sweet about the flat of Cole’s hand as it came down with a smack. She gasped at the burn, tightening her grip on the bench. After a pause, he did it again. Her breasts jiggled from the impact and heat blossomed on her skin. She moaned in anticipation of the next strike. He rested his left hand on the nape of her neck to hold her down. His right palm lit up her bottom, again and again.

She wasn’t sure why she liked it. The tingling pain made every sensation sharper. She was embarrassed and enthralled. Wet, exposed to him, trembling. Maybe the act appealed to her in the same way that performing for him did. The fact that they were outdoors, in an open space, added to her excitement.

She’d never fantasized about edgy sex with Philip. Not because he wasn’t adventurous, or they’d lacked sizzle. He’d satisfied her on every level. But she was a different person now, numb inside. Every slap of Cole’s hand brought her back to life. When he stroked her hot flesh, soothing her, a sob escaped her lips and tears spilled down her cheeks. Not from the sting, but from the emotional release.

He plunged two fingers inside her swollen pussy, groaning. He was hard again, his cock straining the thin fabric of his boxer shorts. He lifted his left hand from her nape and slipped his forefinger into her open mouth, penetrating her at both ends.

Mia moaned at the dual invasion. He withdrew from her lips and her pussy, leaving her aching to be filled again. Moving his slippery fingers to her clit, he rubbed her in a slow glide. Then he slid the wet finger from his other hand between her buttocks, circling her anus. He must not have been lubricated enough, because he moistened his finger again with his own saliva. Then he entered her, making her gasp.

Her bottom was sensitive from the spanking, her clit throbbing. He slid his finger deeper into her ass. She vibrated with the need to come, her entire body trembling.

“Please,” she panted, spreading her legs wider.

He pinched her clit and continued to tease her ass. Arousal seeped from her, slicking the lips of her sex. Her inner muscles clenched in response. He let her writhe for another moment, seeming to enjoy her erotic discomfort. His cock was standing at full attention. When she begged again, he gave her what she wanted. Keeping one finger buried in her ass, he started fucking her with his free hand, alternating between thrusting his fingers into her upturned pussy and stroking her stiff little clit.

She shattered with a hoarse scream, her body convulsing. She felt like a puppet on a string, completely in his control. The orgasm hit her hard and wouldn’t let up. She came and came and came.

When it was over, he removed his fingers from her. She was too satiated to be embarrassed as he rose from the bench and washed his hands in the fountain. He still had an erection tenting the front of his shorts.

She wouldn’t have minded if he’d taken her from behind, or any other way. She might not have moved. But he didn’t position her like a rag doll. He buttoned his fly, pulled up her panties and drew her into his arms.

She didn’t cry, like last time. The sun set behind the Santa Rosa Mountains and the crickets began to sing. His heartbeat thudded against her cheek, strong and sure. He had the words “Dirty Forever” tattooed in cursive script over his left pectoral. There was a flock of blackbirds on his ribcage, taking flight.

“Does everyone in the gang have this tattoo?” she asked, tracing the script.

“It’s a club, not a gang. But yes.”

“These exact words?”

“Dirty Forever, or Forever Eleven. Some have both.”

“Above the heart?”

“Anywhere close to a vein. Neck, chest, wrist.”

Her pulse began to accelerate. “Why?”

“Because the outlaw lifestyle is in our blood, flowing through our veins.”

She dropped her hand, disturbed by the thought. If she was going to ask him about club members with tattooed wrists, she might not get a better opening. But she stayed silent, torn between the urge to know and her newfound peace.

“I have a thing to go to tomorrow night,” he said.

“A thing?”

“It’s a rally near Slab City. Like a tailgate party. People will be expecting me to make an appearance.”

Mia moistened her lips, considering. “Everyone in the club will be there?”

“I think so.”

She could search the crowd for the man with the “E” tattoo. “Take me with you.”

He removed his arm from around her shoulders. “Take you?”

“I want to see what it’s like. I want to see Slab City.”

“You won’t fit in.”

“I can fit in.”

“You’re too...”

“Too what, classy? After what we just did?”

Flushing, he raked a hand through his hair. “Rallies aren’t for outsiders. You’ll get noticed, and I won’t be able to introduce you to the other members.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a respect issue. The only women who get introduced at rallies are old ladies. Wives and girlfriends of club members. And even if you
were
my old lady, I couldn’t introduce you at your first meeting. You’d have to come to more than one.”

“That’s fine. I don’t need to be introduced.”

“I can’t stay right next to you, either,” he said. “Guys will hit on you.”

“I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

He hesitated, seeming conflicted.

“Is there some kind of gang-bang initiation I need to know about?”

“There’s no gang bang, Mia.”

“I thought all motorcycle clubs had wild orgies,” she said, only half-joking.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” he said, his gaze traveling down her body. “We don’t pass around women.”

Cole’s meaning was clear. She was his, and only his.

“If that’s the next fantasy on your list, I can’t fulfill it,” he said.

“You’re not into sharing?”

“Not with men.”

She smiled at this answer, unsurprised. The money they’d exchanged had fallen through the slats on the bench, so she picked it up. Three hundred dollars. “How much do I owe you for that spanking?”

“Whatever you think it was worth.”

She gave him two bills and kept one for herself.

He tucked them into his pocket, smiling back at her. “That’s fair, since I enjoyed it at least as much as you did.”

“Do you spank all of your dates?”

“No,” he said. “You’re the first.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Did I do it like a pro?”

She just stared at him, her heart racing. It was that lucky-adaptive gene of his. He was smart, physical and good with his hands. He’d gone from scaring her with his rough edges to mastering her body in two encounters.