Old Man's Ride: Dust Bowl Devils MC (8 page)

He squeezed my ass cheeks hard, making me gasp. “You’ll have to beg for it.” He touched my bottom lip, running the rough callous of his thumb across it, making me tremble. “Beg, or I’ll just finish in your mouth and go home.”

“
Please, Nomad, let me come.” I kissed his thumb. “I need you to fuck me. I need you. Please.”

He squeezed my ass again. His fingers dug into the fleshy globes, making me gasp and squirm. “Keep begging.” Then his mouth was on my nipple. He sucked it, flicked it rapidly with his tongue, then pinched it with his teeth until I yelped.

“
Ah! Please, Nomad, please fuck me. Fuck me hard. You said, remember, you said as long and slow and as hard as I need. I need it, Nomad, I need you.” I rocked against him. His cock was sandwiched between us. I lifted my pelvis, trying to get him between my legs, trying to shift our position so I could feel him against my pussy, but he held me too tight, too firmly in place.

Finally, he spoke. “Okay, honey. Only ‘cause you asked so nice.” He released my ass and slid a hand between my legs. His fingers grazed my clit before sliding past. I gripped his shoulders as he slid two fingers inside my aching and needy channel. It felt so wonderful to finally be touched by him, my head spun. “Goddamn, you’re so wet,” he breathed.

“
For you,” I said. With a grunt, he thrust his fingers deep. I exhaled sharply, squirming, arching like a bitch in heat.

“
Are you ready for me?” he asked.

I could have laughed if I wasn’t so desperate. “Yes, yes,” I chanted, lifting my hips higher. He positioned his cock at my creamy recess, rubbing the head back and forth.

“
Go on.” With a long sigh of arousal and relief, I lowered myself onto his waiting shaft. My pussy lips and then my tight walls opened and expanded for him, taking the hot member inch after slow inch. I tensed and had to pause. I could have come right then.

He tilted my chin so I was looking into his eyes. “Don’t come yet. Not until I say.”

I nodded. “I remember.” I lowered myself the rest of the way down his shaft and sighed with the sweet relief of finally,
finally
having him inside me. He was big - I was stretched painfully by his girth, despite how wet I was. I whimpered at the sensation, though it rapidly faded as I rocked my hips against him; my nipples danced against the soft cotton of his undershirt; goosebumps rippled across my body. The pain was insignificant beneath the exquisite feel of his huge, throbbing member inside me.

He leaned back, putting a little air between our bodies. “Ride me,” he said. He casually rested his elbows on the backrest of the couch. He could have just as easily been relaxing and watching television instead of having me impaled on his lap. “Make yourself come.”

I locked my eyes with him as I stroked my clit. My gaze didn’t last long - my eyes fluttered as I undulated my hips; grinding against him, with his cock throbbing so hot and so hard inside me, with my fingers dancing across my sensitive button, I brought myself over the edge in mere moments. I threw my head back and cried out as all my muscles clenched and quivered. Delicious shivers of ecstasy spread outwards from my convulsing pussy. It gripped him tight; a throaty groan escaped through his clenched teeth.

And then my world spun. He lifted me before I’d recovered my bearings and placed my on my back, somehow remaining buried to the hilt.

“
Beautiful,” he said. He looked down at me with something like awe. “Unbelievable.” He kissed me, deeply, possessively. Like he was branding my lips. Then he began to move. He rocked into me with slow, deep plunges, and my walls gripped him tight. “So tight. Fuck.” His rhythm increased, and he bared down harder. I dug my fingers into his back, urging him on, but he wasn’t having it. Wordlessly, he took both my wrists in one hand and pinned them over my head. He didn’t need to say anything; I knew what he wanted. He wanted to use my body for his pleasure. He wanted me to take it, to submit to it.

I wriggled below him. “Yes,” I breathed, “Take me, Nomad. Give it to me.” He grunted and doubled his efforts.
He wasn't kidding
, I thought, remembering how he’d swore he’d fuck me hard. He entered me again and again with violent force. I writhed with a wild abandon, tilting my pelvis and locking my legs around his back, taking him deeper yet. I tried to yank my hands free, but he was immovable. I had no influence on his pace, his angle, anything at all. And I loved it.

I could feel a climax building once again.
Holy shit
. His free hand attacked my clit. He rubbed it in a slow circle as he pounded away. His eyes bore into me, watching what he was doing to me as he brought me closer and closer to the edge. “Who do you belong to?” he growled.

I swallowed. “You. I’m yours, Nomad. Please…”

“
Please what?”

“
Let me come again?”

He slapped my clit. I yelped - the pain was sharp and unexpected, and the thrill of it nearly made me orgasm right then. The only thing holding it back was the fact that he hadn’t given me the word.

No words at all. He rubbed another slow circle around my clit, then struck again, though his thrusting never faltered. The smack made my whole body jerk.

“
Please, Nomad,” I breathed. I knew he had to be close himself. His own breathing was irregular; sweat dripped from his brow.

“
Come with me,” he growled, “Now!” He slapped my clit one more time, and I exploded. My throat caught as it hit me. My inner walls clenched and released his furiously pounding shaft, over and over, pulling him over the edge with me. He roared and panted with his pleasure as his hot seed filled me deep inside. He held me tight against him, his body jerking as his cock pulsed, emptying.

We collapsed on the couch in a heap, me on my back and he on his side, resting against the backrest. It was several long moments before either of us caught our breaths enough to speak again.

“
That settles it,” he said, “I’m taking you home with me.”

I smiled. “Really?”

He nodded. “Then I don’t need to wait around for your mom to leave before I can fuck you. It makes me feel old.”

I laughed. “I was thinking about getting my own place.”

“
I don’t want to stop you if that’s what you want. But I want to take you home.” He touched the bruise on my face with a grimace. “Maybe I can do a better job of keeping you from getting into trouble.”

I snorted. “That was
your
son. Fuck. What’s he going to think if I move in with you?”

“
Gunner can get bent. I didn’t raise him to act like this.” He sighed. “His brothers aren’t like that. I don’t know where I went wrong with him.”

“
Shh,” I said, smoothing his white hair. “My mother raised me to be meek and quiet. Some of us are just born one way and can’t be changed.”

He chuckled. “That’s almost wise for a young thing like you. No wonder you rejected Gunner. And for that matter, Bill and the rest of those guys. You’re too smart for them.”

“
Hey,” I said, “That sort of talk will go straight to my head. You said yourself I’ve already got too much ego.” I laughed. “So cut it out.”

I could have laid there and bantered with him all evening. Or better yet, gone back to his place, fucked again, and bantered the rest of the evening. But my house phone rang. “The machine will get it,” I said.

My mother’s voice sounded out of the answering machine from the kitchen, “Veronica and Lily aren’t home, please leave a message!” Then we heard Bill. “Nomad,” he barked, “You aren’t home and you ain’t picking up your cell. So I’m betting you’re there. Pick up. Now.”

Nomad launched off the couch, nearly toppling me in the process. He answered the phone in the kitchen. I could still hear Bill’s end as it played through the machine. “Nomad,” he said, “Eagles were spotted downtown. I need you to take a couple guys down there to scare them off.”

“
Why me? You’ve got enough people around tonight, don’t you?”

“
Because the Eagles are afraid of you, now,” he replied. “I want them to see your face in town. I’m sending Anchor out to the highway to patrol, too.”

Nomad sighed heavily. “All right. On my way.”

“
See you there, old man.”

They hung up. I scrambled off the couch and grabbed our clothes. “How can I help?” I asked.

“
Can’t. You haven’t been Prospect long enough for a job like this.” He dressed quickly, pulling on his jeans as he walked off to retrieve his boots.

“
For real?” I asked. “You’re not just trying to protect me, are you?”

“
For real. You can give me Gunner’s gun, though.”

I retrieved it from a drawer in the kitchen, calling over my shoulder, “What about Whitney?”

“
She doesn’t live downtown.” I didn’t realize he’d followed me; he suddenly embraced me from behind, pulling me tight against his chest and resting his chin on my head. “Pack a few things,” he murmured, “I’ll pick you up later or in the morning. Whenever we’re through.”

I sighed contentedly and relaxed into him. “Okay,” I said, holding his arm around me and smiling. That simple gesture made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I wasn’t ready to start thinking far into the future about this, but I could sink into the moment, enjoy being with him.
And move in with him?

Maybe.
He spun me around and assaulted my mouth with another intoxicating kiss. Though brief, it left me wanting to agree to anything at all. “See you soon.” He winked as he left.

I paused by the front door. My mind was in a fog; a post-orgasmic haze of fulfillment and elation. But something was nagging at me. Something we’d just talked about only a moment ago.

What was it? Something about the Eagles…

Whitney.

I grabbed my jacket. Then, hovering in the living room, trapped in a moment of indecision, I cursed at myself.
You don’t let fear get the better of you. Cut it out. Move.
I retrieved my gun.

---

I parked my mother’s car a block away from Whitney’s house and jogged the rest of the way, hand at the hilt of the gun tucked into my belt. Nomad was probably right - no one was here. Whitney was fine. She was just some girl, anyway. While the Eagles would definitely seek revenge on the Dust Bowl Devils for the shootout at their strip club and for stealing her away, I couldn’t imagine they’d care one way or the other what actually happened to
her.

On the other hand, we could be wrong.

My blood ran cold when I spotted the two bikes parked at the edge of her driveway. They were not the Devil’s signature purple and black. They were pure black, and had beaks affixed to the centers of the handlebars.
Fuck, I knew it. Shit shit shit.
I pulled out my cell phone and typed “eagles at whitney house” with shaking fingers, then sent the text to every number I had - my mom, Bill, a couple of the other guys. Nomad. I knew most of them would never check it in time, but I only needed one to get through and get the army of them on the road.

Now what?
I heard a scream inside the house.
Did they only just arrive?
Is her dad home?

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I checked the message - it was from Mom. “Couldn’t reach Bill,” it read, “Gunner and co are on the way.”

Great, just who I wanted to see. My problems with him weren’t important, though - all that mattered was that help was coming.
But how to hold the Eagles here?

I could disable their bikes. I cursed myself for bringing a gun when I could have used something sharp to puncture their tires silently instead. I’d have to figure something else out. Ducking low, I made my way over to the two motorcycles. I crouched next to the first one and peered at the ignition system. Maybe I could yank a few wires? Which ones?
Oh, God. I know nothing.
Another scream from inside the house, and the front door swung open. Whitney was shoved out onto the stoop.
No time anyway.
I pulled my gun and, moving quickly, shot the front tire. The
bang!
was much louder than I expected. I was completely unprepared and nearly fell over.
I should have practiced using this fucking thing.
Moving quickly and ignoring the ringing in my head, I turned and fired at the second bike. I saw more than heard the
ping
as the bullet struck closer the handlebars than the tires. I fired once more and it hit home, slamming into the tire and causing it to begin to deflate.
Success!

I heard shouting, and I wondered why they weren’t firing. I peeked around the side of the motorcycle. Two unfamiliar bikers stood at the front of the house aiming their guns toward me. One of them held Whitney by her elbow.
Northern Eagles. Why aren’t they firing?

The bikes. They didn’t want to damage their bikes. The bigger guy barked, “Get the fuck out here! We can see you, motherfucker!”

“
Drop your gun, shithead!” the blonde guy, the one holding Whitney, shouted at me.