Old Man's Ride: Dust Bowl Devils MC (6 page)

I felt stronger. I felt tough. Invincible. I met Nomad's eyes again. I could fix things.

Bill nodded his approval. "All right. She's all yours." He clapped a hand on Nomad's shoulder, then showed us out the door.

I stopped him before he climbed on his bike. "What are you gonna do to me?" I asked.

"I'm dropping you off at home," he said, "Get on."

"No. You know what I mean. About the... crime."

Life returned to his eyes as he looked me up and down. Heat and fire crackled in their green depths. A cruel grin spread across his face. "I'm going to let you beg."

---

When he said it, I assumed he meant just that night. I didn't realize he intended on dragging my torment out.

But I was willing to do whatever it took though to win back his favor.

When we reached my apartment, I didn't know what he intended. He didn't say anything, but simply followed me in. Mom was out - probably at work, or having post-work drinks.
Maybe it’s time to start thinking about getting my own apartment.

"Can I get you anything? I asked softly. "Water? A beer?"

He regarded me for a moment, standing with his back against the front door. I suddenly felt awkward beneath his considering gaze. His eyes traced over my dirty top, my dusty jeans. His assessment made me feel naked. I wished I'd had time to shower before being alone with him.

"Well? What?" I asked.

"Turn around." I recognized that tone. My breathing hitched, and a warm glow grew at my core. I turned and watched him over my shoulder. His eyes settled on my thighs, then my ass. He licked his lips.

"Take off your clothes." If there's a sentence that causes more instant arousal than that, I don't know it. Especially uttered in his gruff and husky voice. I pulled my jeans down first, tugging them below my ass slowly before kicking them away. Then came my new Prospect jacket, with its rich leather smell, and my shirt, all dropped at my feet. Goosebumps rose along my arms, and my nipples hardened beneath my bra.
What is he going to do with me now?

He stepped around and stood in front of me. His eyes were dark with heat and lust as he looked me up and down. "Underwear, too."

I wanted to shake my head. I felt so exposed already. In this daylight, he'd be able to see every intimate detail of my body. It wasn't as if he hadn't already, but somehow the dim light in a strange hotel was a little different. It wasn't home - it was a little less real.

"Come on," he insisted. So I did. With trembling hands, I unclasped my bra. The material teased my sensitive nipples as it fell away. Then finally my panties, now damp with the evidence of what he was doing to me.

"Perfect." He walked a circle around me. "Beautiful." Standing before me again, he said, "Play with your breasts." I opened my mouth to speak, but he raised an eyebrow before any words could form.

I cupped the soft mounds of flesh and squeezed and lifted them, like I was offering them to him. He nodded, indicating that I should continue. I pinched my nipples and gasped at the twin jolts. I circled them with my thumbs, soothing the sting; I tugged them, squeezed them, rubbed my hands all over feeling wild and sexy. Soon, his breathing matched mine; hard and fast.

“
Run your hands down your body,” he said, “Nice and slow.” I let my hands roam, brushing their way across my stomach. I traced the curves of my waist, rubbed my palms over my thighs. He watched as if hypnotized. I pressed my fingers harder, indenting my flesh as I passed up and down my body again.

“
Good,” he said softly, “Very good. Now. Stand with your legs wider. Touch your pussy.”

I placed my feet further apart. With a wicked little grin, feeling powerful despite taking his orders, my fingers trailed across my thigh, through my soft patch of hair, and I brushed the pink folds of my sex. I gasped at the gentle contact - it stoked the fire within me. I hoped his hands would replace mine soon. I could imagine them,
feel
them, as I anticipated his touch.

“
Nice,” he said. He began to circle me again. “Just like that. Real light.” He stood close behind me - I could smell his sweat, his smoky leather jacket, the dust from the road. I could feel the heat radiating off his body. “Now, this is important. You can’t come until I say, understand?”

“
Yes,” I breathed. My fingers were coated with my juices as I kept stroking. I avoided my most sensitive places, but that didn’t stop the rising tide of arousal.

“
Repeat it back to me.”

“
I can’t come until you say.”

“
Good.” His fingers brushed the back of my neck - not touching, just close enough to graze the tiny, delicate hairs there. He breathed against my ear, his breath hot, his lips just barely touching. Delicious shivers of anticipation roiled through my body.

My back cooled as he stepped away. I expected him to circle me again, but instead, the door slammed.

I whipped around. He was gone.
Son of a bitch.

---

That was just the first time he left me hanging. Luckily, my desperation to be clean and my exhaustion eventually took my brain back over, and I got myself back together.

I was expected to run all sorts of errands for the club - anything, for any member ranked higher than me. I could refuse a request, of course - if I was at work, or if it was something I couldn't or wouldn't do - but it could effect that member's vote later, when I was up for full membership.

That there was the problem with becoming a full member as a woman. Some of the guys would withhold their votes for sexual favors. But once a favor like that was granted, they often decided they couldn't respect her anymore and would refuse her membership anyway. It was why there were no female members now, and hadn't been for as long as I'd known the club.

One of my first assignments was a pickup - one of the members was being released from a prison a few miles away. Bill loaned me an old pickup truck from the automotive shop owned by another member and sent me on my way. His only instruction was to wait in the parking lot and wear my new jacket. Easy enough.

Nomad pushed his way into the driver's seat, making me slide over to the passenger side. It was three days after he'd left me hanging in my living room, and I hadn't seen him since then.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "I thought I was going alone."

"You are." He slipped on his big black sunglasses. "I just need a ride to the clubhouse first." The clubhouse. I hadn't been invited inside of yet. I doubted that today would be the day. Somehow, I knew he had something else on his mind.

Sure enough, he pulled onto a quiet stretch of road heading east - not exactly the most direct route.

He was unusually silent. I got the impression that he was waiting for me to speak first. My stubborn side wanted to lock my jaw shut. But this was Nomad.

"I haven't seen much of you around," I said. "Have you been traveling?"

"No time for small talk today, girly. Unzip my pants."

The old bastard
was
waiting for me to break the silence, and just so we could continue his game. Again, a war took place inside my head. I wanted to please him, but dammit, I deserved at least a little respect; I wore the jacket, though not the full club colors yet.

It didn't matter what my head thought, though, because my fingers were already undoing his jeans and pulling his magnificent cock free. Further instructions weren't needed - I lovingly stroked it until it grew fully hard in my palm, like a hot steel rod wrapped in silk. I reveled in the feel of his soft skin before leaning over and planting my lips around it.

I took him as fully into my mouth as I could and sucked hard - no teasing, no soft touches. Road head wasn't about playing nice, it was about getting off fast. I squeezed my hand inside his pants to massage his sack, rolling his heavy balls in my palm as I drooled over his cock.

The masculine taste of his sweat and flesh had me hungering for more immediately. With a deep moan, I massaged the underside of his shaft with the flat of my tongue. He squirmed in his seat.
Good
.

I bobbed my head and wrapped my other hand around the base of his cock, stroking with my movements. With both hands on him, it was difficult to balance myself as twisted around in the seat as I was, but I intended this to be done fast. I stroked and sucked as I tried to ignore the yearning I felt inside, loving the feeling of having him fill my mouth, but wishing he would fill me somewhere else.

"That's good. Real good." His breathing hitched, and his ass lifted just a fraction off the seat. He was getting close.

I backed off for just a moment. "Give it to me, old man,"   I said, "Come in my mouth." My words made him groan. With a last heard suck, he exploded against the back of my throat. I swallowed fast as jet after jet of hot cum coated my tongue. The taste drove me a little wild - my panties were soaked, and it took all my self control not to start touching myself the minute I sat back in my seat. I tucked his now softening cock away and zipped his pants back up. All the while, he never turned his attention from the road. He still didn’t look happy, or even vaguely pleased.

"I'm sorry about your bike," I said softly, looking out the passenger side window. "I didn't know what else to do."

He grunted. "You should have stayed put, like you were told."

"It's not like I broke it," I mumbled, "It just needs a little paint."

He slammed on the brakes. My hands shot out and grabbed the dashboard before I could lurch from my seat, and the wind was knocked out of me when I bounced back. "What the fuck?"

"Idiot girl," he snarled. Finally he turned to me. I shrank away - he was
pissed
. "You think this is about the bike? It's just a fucking bike. I was worried about
you
.
Your
safety. They had
guns
. I don't care how brave you think you are or how "badass" Bill thinks your move was. It was fucking stupid."

Spitting more curses, he swung his door open and climbed out.

"Wait!" I crawled over into the driver's seat. "Don't go. I'm sorry!" It had never occurred to me that the source of his anger was anything aside from the damage to his bike. He was a biker, after all. The fact that he was so upset over the fact that I could have been hurt, though... "Please. Stay."

He glared, and for a moment I thought he would get back in the truck. Instead, he pulled a gun from the back of his pants. I instinctively cringed away. He pushed it into my hands.
Oh. This gun. Mine
. "Anchor found it. I don't want to see you unarmed again, understand?"

I nodded, holding the weapon in shaky hands. I hated the thing. But I knew most of the guys carried. And I knew that now, wearing the jacket, I could attract unwanted attention.

I didn't have to like it, though.

"Go on," he said, nodding towards the road. "I'm walking from here."

And that was it. I sat frozen as he aimed his feet back the way we came and strode away, shoulders stiff with stress and anger.

---

Nomad tortured me for days, but not nearly as much as I tortured myself. I knew he wanted me. I knew he was attracted to me. But I’d had no clue that he cared; not like that. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

He teased me at work at the diner; Bill hadn’t found a replacement for me. I’d only been gone for a day, after all, and he was happy enough to give me back my shifts. I sat Nomad at the corner booth in the back. He had me stand with my hips against the table while he reached beneath and stroked me over my panties, his hand up the skirt I’d worn that day. I was only just barely out of the other customer’s views back there, but he didn’t care. Why would he? He was wearing his leather jacket. He stroked until I was panting with need. My knees shook so badly, I had to grip the side of the table. He rubbed and circled until the thin cotton material was soaked through.

“
Please,” I whined, rocking my hips as subtly as I could. “Please.”

“
Please what?” He pushed the soaked cotton aside and stroked my bare sex. I bit back a gasp. I released the table and gripped his arm, feeling its strength. Trying to move him would be like trying to move a tree trunk. My pussy pulsed with heat. “Do you want to come?”

“
Fuck yes.”

He chuckled. “Not yet.” Then he withdrew. He licked his finger clean with a leer, his eyes locked on mine. “Now,” he said, “I believe I ordered a coffee?”

I wanted to murder him.

He tormented me anywhere he found me. At the clubhouse bar, he followed me into the bathroom and licked my pussy until I was ready to scream. Just licked, slowly, lightly, never varying, never letting me move. His tongue never touched my clit, never probed inside my waiting hole; just grazed through my folds until I was a hot and begging mess, until there were tears in my eyes. And he just strolled out whistling some tune.

Meanwhile, I also continued running errands for the club. They all saw me as a joke, and I didn't blame them. They were hardened men, tough guys, and criminals. I was a nineteen year old girl afraid to leave my home town. If they stopped short of being cruel, it was thanks to Nomad's influence.