Bikers Don't Ask Twice:: (Outlaw MC Erotica) (2 page)

He was still behind the bar drinking whiskey.
 

"Take a seat," he said, gesturing at one of the stools in front of the counter.
 

I took a seat. I was unsure of how I should be acting in front of him. Did he want me sorry? Scared? I took a real look at his face and tried to read his intentions. It was a good looking face but it was lined with time. I didn't think he was that old, but there were wrinkles nine the less. There was a gentle look to him in a weird kind of way, but that was offset by the harshness of the scar that run from the middle of his right cheek to his neck.
 

He out a glass in front of me and poured whiskey into it.
 

"Drink."
 

It wasn't a time for me to argue, no matter how much I hated whiskey. I took the glass and knocked the liquid down my throat. It burnt all the way into my stomach.
 

He put his hands on the bar in from of me. The right one was tattooed with a red jackal that covered the whole area between fingers and wrist. The left had tattoos but they were just a row of four scratches, like tallies. He saw where my eyes were looking.
 

"Each one if these is a symbol of a man who is no longer breathing," he said.
 

I felt my throat start to close up and the air tasted as sour as the whiskey as I gulped it in. There was no doubt now that this man was capable of murder.
 

"I'm Big Red. Leader of the Red Jackals. You heard of us?"
 

I shook my head.
 

"That's because we don't want to be heard of. And you breaking in here don't exactly help us in that regard."
 

"I'm sorry," I said. Pathetic, but it was all I could think to say.
 

"The way I see it you've got two choices. I could call the police and have them sort this out for me. But you can probably guess that me and the law ain't a good mix."
 

I nodded.
 

"Or I could break your legs and throw you out of here myself. Which one do you think I'll pick?"
 

I knew full well which he'd pick. Police were a dirty word round here, for me as well as Big Red. We had that much in common at least. I didn't know which was worse, having my legs broken or going to jail, but I did know one thing; I had to come up with a solution of my own. Give him a reason to let me go.
 

I took another look at him. He was thickly muscled, he had a grizzled face and he had a confidence moving into arrogance that I'd always found so damn attractive in a guy. What the hell. I'd take a chance. It was my only way out.
 

"Maybe there's a third choice," I said. I reached forward and stroked the Jackal on his hand.
 

He seemed to ponder this for a second or two. Then he slammed another shot and looked at me.
 

"Okay, but you gotta do what I say. I can get a lay anytime I want. You gotta impress me."
 

I thought about it for a second. What were my choices? Get arrested, get my legs broken, or get laid? It was pretty obvious what I should do.
 

"You got it," I said, and stood up.
 

He looked pretty unimpressed for a guy about to get some action. He poured another shot, tossed it back and then wiped his mouth.
 

"Take off your clothes."
 

I unbuttoned my shirt slowly, teasing over each button. As they popped up I revealed more of my pink flesh, until finally I was down to the last one. I slipped the shirt off my shoulders and let it drop to the sticky floor. I stood in my bra and skirt feeling the cold draft of the bar form goose bumps on my skin. I could feel his eyes sweeping up and down my body, taking me in and probably rating me against the other lays he’d had in the past. I bet I ranked pretty highly.
 

"Now the skirt," he said.
 

I dropped it to the floor.
 

His eyes seem to change now. Seeing me stood in front of him in my bra and panties had an effect on him, and definitely didn't look disinterested anymore. I was starting to get interested myself, too. I was doing this to save my own skin, but there was no reason I shouldn't enjoy it.
 

He moved from behind the bar and to the front of the counter so that he was directly in front of me.
 

"Lose the bra," he said.
 

I was feeling the whiskey pulse through my head now, and stripping naked in front of Big Red was easier than it should have been. I threw my bra alto the floor and then took down my panties too. Big Red's eyes widened at the sight of my nakedness.
 

He walk toward me, and with every step he took I felt my skin start to tingle. I wanted him to touch me with his fingers and his tongue and his cock.
 

Soon he was I front of me. I looked up at him, wondering if he would kiss me. But instead he reached out and started to play with my right breast. He pinched my nipple between his thumb and finger and I felt the nub go hard. He bent his head toward me and soon I felt his tongue as it played up and down the tip of my nipple. I could feel his stubble brush against the side of my breast as he moved up and down.
 

His hand reached out and started to trail down my body and down my stomach and then further down toward my pubic hair. I could feel my wetness rub against his fingers, and as he moved them in and out I groaned with pleasure.
 

He lifted his head away from my breast and pushed me back toward a table. He threw a chair out of the way. He took off his biker jacket and laid it out in the table. His biceps rippled, and the tattoos that covered them stretched as he tensed up.
 

"Lie down," he said.
 

I backed into the table and lay on it. The leather of his jacket was cool against my bum. Big Red stood in front of me and parted my legs. As his head lowered toward my clit I felt an ache shudder through my entire body. Soon I felt his tongue start to snake in and out of me, sending pulses of electricity through my skin.
 

As he lapped at me with his thick tongue I reached out and grabbed hold of his blonde hair, squeezing the locks between my fingers. His tongue sent a jolt trough me and I shouted out loud. My whole body buzzed and pulsed. I pushed his head away, gently shoved him away from the table.
 

I knelt in front of him and unzipped his pants, pulled them down and grabbed at his boxers. He pushed them down and his cock sprang out. Suddenly I knew where the name Big Red came from. I pulled his hardness into my head and sucked, reaching for his balls with my hand and massaging them. Groaning, he lifted up my head and guided my body up and back onto the table.

We were both panting now and our movements were desperate and hurried. The air of the bar seemed to be heating up and you could almost imagine a steam rising from us. I was started to feel waves of pleasure pulse through me, faint at first but getting stronger and stronger.
 

He pushed me back and shoved my legs apart. He guided his cock into my gushing hole. His whole shaft slid in and was enveloped by my wetness. Both of us sighed now, and I felt him tense his cock inside me. He moved slow to begin with, then faster as he got near to cumming. I reached up and grabbed at him, scratched at his arms in pleasure. His dick throbbed inside of me and I felt myself get wetter and wetter, my body burning with a fire that was fuelled by the friction of his cock as it moved inside me.
 

Soon my moans were filling the room. My back arched and I let out one final scream as pleasures tremored down my spine and through my whole body and then left my mouth in a scream. I reached up to Big Red to pull him close to me, but he pushed me back and pulled out of me. I stared as he reached his climax, and he leant forward and spilled himself over my breast and my stomach.
 

This time I leant forward and dragged him toward me, not giving him a chance to react. I held him still as the tremors still ran through me, slowly down to a stop as we both caught our breath.
 

Bid Red stood and put on his clothes. He stood in his pants and t-shirt, beads of sweat seeping through from his chest. He pulled me to my feet and then picked up his jacket. He brushed it with his hands and then putting him on. The look on his face changed again, and he was back to being the harsh biker leader.
 

While we had sex I had seen a change in him. There was something sensitive, evidence that a man existed beyond the strong, dangerous biker that he tried so hard to portray. There was another side to him, and what surprised me was that I wanted to see more of it.
 

Originally I had wanted to walk out of here with a hundred grand in cash. After meeting Big Red I would have been happy just to walk out in one piece. Now I wasn't sure I wanted to leave at all. There was more to life than money, I realised. There was a dangerous side, the kind of life that Big Red lived. The sort of life that got your blood pumping and actually caused you to really feel something, rather than walking through life an emotionless empty husk.
 

"What happens now?" I asked.
 

Big Red walked over to the bar and sat on a stool. He took a pack of smokes out of his pocket, put one in his mouth and lit it up. A puff of smoke escaped his lips and drifted to the ceiling. The light of the bar flashed on the jackal tattoo on his hand.
 

"What do you want to happen?" He said.
 

As we spoke I stood and put on my clothes.
 

"I guess I don't know. You kinda knocked me for six."
 

He laughed.
 

"I'll tell you what's gonna happen. You're gonna walk out of that door, get in your car and dive home. And then you're gonna forget you were ever here and forget you ever saw me."
 

I opened my mouth to speak, but Big Red was walking away from me. He walked past the bar, past the toilets and to the door at end. He tapped his fingers on the code entry system and opened the door. The last I saw of him was the giant red jackal on the back of his leather jacket before the door closed behind him.
 

I stood in the bar alone. In one short hour I felt like my life had changed. I couldn't go back to my empty apartment. I couldn't go back to robbing cheap liquor stores and spending time with a guy who bought weed off me just to have a brief flash of human contact. I'd seen something else, another side to life. A dangerous side.
 

I'll be back, Big Red, I thought. You haven't seen the last of this girl. Suddenly my life seemed an open doorway of endless possibilities. Before I left the bar I took a look at the biker jackets that lined the  west wall. The Red Jackals motorcycle club, nice to meet you. I’ll definitely be seeing you around.

Taken by the Bikers

By Roseleigh Gorge

Breathing was difficult. The stocking they'd put over my head had a few holes so that I could get some air, but I had to really suck it in. When I breathed out I could feel it blow back on my face all hot and stuffy. I couldn't see anything through the material other than tiny pinpricks of light, though the garment didn't affect my hearing. I listened to the men as they talked about me, straining to hear their voices over the sound of my own pulse as it throbbed in my ears.
 

"We going to keep her here?" said a voice. It was gravely, as though every word was spoken through a cigarette and bourbon filter.

"Where else would we put her? You want to take her home to meet your mom?" This voice was gentler, but it had more authority to it. He was the leader of the two.
 

"I don't know, she's definitely pretty enough."
 

"Don't start thinking about that. Remember the plan."
 

"Plan? Ha. We ain't got a plan."
 

Somehow the news that they didn't have a plan worried me. That meant it was an impulse crime, and as a graduate of a criminal behaviour degree in college I knew that impulse crimes were often the most violent ones. No plan meant no precautions, and if they hadn't taken precautions to keep themselves safe of getting caught then they would probably need to get rid of me whenever they'd finished.
 

I tried to keep calm. I could feel my heart race and there were tiny little jolts of panic stabbing my stomach. That would do me no good, I knew. I needed to keep my head clear and my wits about me. Maybe I could talk them out of it.
 

"Course we have a plan," said the leader. "We keep her here a few days until her father is good and worried, then we hit him with the ransom demand. Get the daddy dearest Governor to cough up his cash, then ship this broad back to him."
 

"That still ain't no plan. We didn't think this through. Who's going to keep an eye on her?” said the bourbon voice.
 

I hoped it wasn't him. There was a sense of cruelty to his tone when he spoke, and I got the impression that to him I was nothing but an annoyance. He was a dangerous man, and he'd probably think nothing of getting rid of me permanently when all this was finished. I didn't want to be left alone with him.
 

"I'll watch her tonight. Then we'll work out what's what in the morning." said the leader.
 

I felt some small relief at this. Despite the circumstances there was a warmth to the leader's voice that I liked, and somehow I knew that with him I'd be safe until the morning.
 

I heard footsteps and then a door opened. More footsteps walked away, and then the door closed. A lock clicked. Having been without sight for a couple of hours now, my ears were working overtime and I was attuned to every little sound around me. I could only hear one set of breathing in the room, so I knew I was alone with the leader.