Road Captain (4 page)

Overhead, thunder rumbled, ricocheting in Stella's gut. She glanced skyward, realizing for the first time that heavy grey clouds roiled overhead. Rain was in the immediate future, which made walking a non-option. The unhappy, prickly part of her gave in.

“Fine, I'll take a ride,” she murmured, returning her eyes to Bishop's face. Her inner agent added, with stern emphasis, “But
only
a ride. No sex.”

“If you say so,” the man laughed, his grin betraying his thoughts. After lingering a breath too long, Bishop pulled away and crunched over the gravel to his chopper. Stella followed after him, excitement and delicious suspense dotting her thoughts.

Neither noticed the person watching them from across the street.

CHAPTER FIVE

Fifteen minutes after leaving the bar, the hog rumbled into the motel's parking lot. The U-shaped, squat building nestled in the armpit of a highway ramp. Like everything in Grand River, it owned by someone in town. And, like all motels, it was a scummy, cheap, and great for frequent fliers or possible prostitution rings.

Stella wasn't thinking about any of the motel's issues as the motorcycle rolled to a stop. Her thoughts were painfully focusing on Bishop's body. His thick torso, the way his muscles moved beneath his skin, the bulge protruding against his jeans. Her thoughts were muzzy with hormones. The woman found herself shifting and flexing her fingers, shamefully enjoying his body heat and fighting off the urge to let her hands drift southward. Hormones didn't give her a break. They took the reins in her mind, replaying his attractive smirks that made her insides boil or bringing ghostly tingles over her body wherever her body touched his.

The man wasn't faring much better. Stella's soft breasts against his back and her supple thighs pressed flushed to his legs brought plenty of x-rated thoughts to his mind. Throughout the whole ride, Bishop couldn't stop imagining her naked body, how she'd sound beneath him, how he could make her scream. He had almost run through a red light thanks to those distractions.

The engine's rumble died away, and the lights flickered off as he twisted the key. The sudden vacuum of sound roused their thoughts away from the gutter. Stella immediately tore her arms away from his body. She wrenched the spare helmet from her head and, as she climbed off the chopper, returned it to Bishop's hands.

Distance. She needed distance. Now. If she didn't get it, she would do something she'd regret. Or, worse, something she wouldn't regret.

“Thank you, Mr. Bishop,” the woman gasped, flashing him a smile. She prayed he didn't notice the red flush of her cheeks. With heart thrumming loudly and fingertips itching for a touch – just one – Stella all but ran to her door.

The keys jangled in her hands as Stella bumbled, the nervous energy making her fingers shake. Just as the lock clicked and the tumblers sounded, a swell of relief hit her. Now, all she had to do was duck into the room, away from Bishop and–

A large hand grabbed her by the wrist, ceasing her retreat. Suddenly, she became aware of a broad chest pressed against her back. The air in her lungs locked in place as Bishop leaned further down. His hot breath played over the back of her neck, “You're very welcome, Miss Holmes, but I told you to call me Art.”

“And I told you to call me
Agent
Holmes, didn't I?” Stella swallowed, trying to cling to annoyance and frustration. She refused to turn and meet his gaze. Her shaky resolve would shatter under his intense grey gaze and his perpetual smirk.

Bishop chuckled, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on her wrist. Stella steeled herself, delight bubbling in her blood, straining to hear Bishop's next words, “Fair enough, Agent.”

“Did-did you want something?” The woman closed her eyes, taking deep breaths through her nose. The urge to flirt, to turn, to touch was overwhelming. It was a complete spectrum change from earlier with Stan. In fact, Stella couldn't remember the last time a man had her feeling so unhinged. The continual reminder –
he's a criminal, he's a criminal, he's a criminal
– acted as a mantra for her resolve.

“No, I suppose not.” After a moment of silence, Bishop's defeated reply felt like a cold stab to Stella's guts. He had given up. Stella wasn't sure how to think of the newest occurrence. His warm, calloused hand pulled away from her wrist, leaving her all the colder. “Good night.”

The woman remained facing the door, her hand still grasping the doorknob. Something nudged against her restraint and it shook unsteadily.

Overhead, the sky rumbled and the atmosphere shifted. The sudden tattoo of torrential rainfall rattled off the metal canopy that shielded the walkway. Stella opened the door, but glanced over her shoulder before ducking into the room. Bishop stood at the edge of the dry area, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lip, staring at the falling rain. Something clenched inside of Stella, and her resolution fell.

“Bishop.” The word came out soft on her lips. Stella was surprised when the man turned, eyebrow cocked. She leaned in the doorjamb, her eyes flickering from the rain and the biker. Tingling heat nipped at her cheeks. “You can stay until the rain stops.”

CHAPTER SIX

As Stella closed the door to her room, she listened to Bishop scuffing his boots behind her. Outside, thunder rumbled, and rain pattered. Excitement thrummed through her body, and her brain steeped in confusion. It was only a few minutes. An hour, at most. The rain would end soon, and he'd be on his way after she rejected his advances. That's what Stella tried to tell herself, at least.

“Remember in the shed?” A smirk twisted along his words, smug and hot. Bishop was driven by hormones. He wasn't able to swallow the urge to touch her any longer. 

His body heat ghosted over her back as the biker leaned over her. Bishop's hands slid down her shoulders, along her arms, grasping her hands where they rested against the door. An electric thrill lit Stella's body. Her breathing hitched, despite herself, and she clenched her eyes shut.

Stella nodded, her heart trembling with excitement.

“Those little sounds you made, the gasps and whimpers, they've been driving me crazy,” he breathed. She didn't push him away or tense under his touch. In fact, she seemed to relax under his hands.

“Ha-have they?”

“Yes.” His hot breath tickled her neck. Stella swallowed heavily, battling with herself. A small strand of propriety clung to her mind. The searing hormones burned at her thoughts and drowned out everything else. Her imagination supplied her with presumptive moans and groans, the scent of sweat, the squeak of her bed. And no one would know. No one would see them. They were in her room, by themselves, with no busybodies poking around.

Taking a deep breath, Stella opened her eyes and stared at the white door in front of her. The ache of her starving sexual appetite pulsed in her lower tummy. Bishop's thumbs stroked across her knuckles. Even the bony parts of Stella felt soft under his touch.

Without a word, Stella pulled her hands away from the door. Mistaking her sudden movement for rejection, Bishop moved to release her hands from his hold. She stopped him and curled her fingers, catching his. Before he could question her, and before stifling decorum could tie her back up, Stella led her hands to her chest. Switching the positions of their hands – his now on bottom and hers on top – she guided the biker along the curves and swells of her body.

Against her ass, she felt his erection grow. Under his breath, Bishop let out a low, soft groan. His fingers twitched as Stella led them back up to her breasts. He couldn't believe she was doing this, and he refused to move, to make a sound, lest it frighten this facet of Stella away. The woman released one hand, allowing the biker to slip beneath her blouse and tease her hardened nipples through her bra. She led the other hand southward, her free hand working at the zipper and button of her work pants.

Heat lit along Bishop's arms as he restrained himself from grabbing and squeezing roughly. He wanted nothing more to dominate the situation and manhandle the fiery woman giving him access to her body. He wanted to make her scream, writhe, and wriggle beneath his hands. He wanted to hear his name on her breath and on her screams of delight.

Stella's chest heaved with heavy breaths and soft groans as Bishop groped her tits. Her breasts prickled with pleasure, her nipples tight and raw against the fabric of her brassiere. His cock strained against his pants, wanting to plant itself between her ass cheeks. Desire burned in her core, and it flamed in his.

Then, Stella's prompted his hand down, down, down. It took Bishop's foggy, hormone-drenched mind to realize what his hand crept toward. He swallowed his excitement as his fingertips brushed past her damp panties to her hot, wet, swollen sex. The woman bucked under his fingers, even before the digits slicked between her lips. Stella arched her back; Bishop's calloused fingers made her body hot and her nerves tingle. Her pants slowly slid downward, her ass bare pressed against his rough jeans and still sheathed erection.

“Shit, you're really wet,” the man growled appreciatively into her ear, retracting his hand from her chest. Stella didn't notice. He couldn't hold back any longer. Her wet pussy shattered his minor restraint. His slicked fingers expertly teased around her clit, the sensitive nub throbbing with intense pleasure. Excitement coursed down her body and doubled as she heard the hiss of his zipper. Hot and thick, his cock slid against her pussy.

Bishop gave a shuddering groan and his erection twitched. Wet and hot, her sex coaxed the man to dive in and lose himself completely. Stella moaned, rocking her hips back and forth along his length. Bishop's self-control deteriorated rapidly.

Everything in her mind was a hot, muddled mess. All Stella knew was she wanted Bishop inside her; her pussy clenched and her nipples throbbed at the thought. Especially the way his fingers rubbed and pinched at her clit, sending storms of pleasure across her body. Her core tightened eagerly for him. She gyrated her hips, enjoying his hardness pressed against her swollen lips. Every time his head pushed between her lips, he pushed a little further into her soaked recesses, Stella moaned and arched her back. Her pussy pulsed around his cock, as if trying to tempt him.

Bishop took his time, though. He slid his cock back and forth against her pussy, savoring the heat and friction. The desire to have her whimper, to plead and beg, reared in his mind. He could wait, he could wait. Yet, every time Stella moaned and mewled, gasped and shuddered, the biker had to choke down the urge to ram into her. To bury his throbbing cock, balls deep, into the pretty little fed braced against the wall.

With one of his hands still teasing her swollen clit and the other in her hair, Bishop tugged her head back. The woman obliged, breathing heavy, a red flush burning at her cheeks. From the corner of her eye, she peered at the man. His grey eyes were hungry, his own face tinged red with excitement. Stella licked her lips, and the heat in Bishop's gaze heightened. She could tell what he was waiting for, and her own body ached for penetration.

“Please,” the woman panted, her chest heaving with every deep breath. Her brown eyes caught his grey, the hunger and desire tripling at the one word. Stella whimpered, wiggling her hips against him, “Please, Bishop.”

His hips bucked, and his cock twitched against her, but the man didn't thrust into her. Bishop continued the languid strokes against her pussy. Every muscle in his body poised to drill into her, to fill her. He tugged at her hair, sending an electric pleasure down Stella's spine. Close to her neck, he growled, “What do you want?”

“Wh-what?” she gasped, her mind too hazy with desire to understand.

“What do you want, Stella?” The woman bit her bottom lip, a whimper in her throat. She couldn't think straight. Her temperature was rising with every stroke, her breathing heavy and her thoughts rife with anticipatory fantasies. Bishop tugged a little harder on her hair, eliciting a moan from her lips. “
Well
?”

Stella managed to rein her thoughts in. Irritation prickled through her mind. Of course, the biker would want an explicit plea. Her pride rallied against the thought of begging. Her desire outweighed her own ego. The sexual ache in her core was becoming an intense need. Through clenched teeth, the woman growled, “You fuck me. Now.”

“Are you really in a place to make demands?” Bishop's lips twisted into a grin. Stella groaned loudly, frustrated and exasperated. Bishop ignored her vocal dissent. He dipped down, raking his teeth across her neck as he pinched her clit hard.

At the same time, Bishop thrust his cock into her, burying his cock in one, slick movement. Stella gasped roughly, her senses running into overload from all the sensations. The pain-pleasure at her hard, slick clit, his rough stubble and nip at her neck, his hard, thick member cleaving through her. Her body lurched as explosions of stinging hot delight scoured her nerves. The sound drove a hard spike of pleasure to his groin. Bishop released her hair, his free hand trailing to her front. He dug his way beneath her shirt and her bra, his rough hand fondling and kneading her breast.

Heat licked through Stella's trembling body. She moaned and arched her back, whimpering and wiggling against Bishop. Friction and searing pleasure erased all coherent thought from her brain. Her nails dug into the door as Bishop pumped in and out of her roughly. The door rattled on its hinges. The man groaned, every thrust landing him deeper and harder into Stella. He didn't want to come, not yet.

She gasped as his pace increased, her muscles tensing and the pressure building in her core. All she could focus on was the friction against her throbbing nerves, the feeling of his hard body against her, the sounds of their panting, his grunts, her moans, the rollicking door, and her pulsing pussy as it clenched around his thick cock. If someone were to pound on the door angry and demand them to be quiet, Stella wasn't sure she'd register it.

His hands drifted to her hips, grabbing her firmly, drawing her back against him with every thrust forward. Bishop's balls slapped against her wet pussy, smacking across her already tingling clit. Stella moaned and pressed her forehead against the door, bouncing her ass back against the man. Her chest heaved and ragged pants parted her lips, as biting pleasure crept further along her skin. Fingernails dug across the door, her moans escalated, and his thrusts slammed harder.

Her whole body strung tight and hot and throbbing. The pleasure crested over her, slamming through her body. Stella moaned loudly, throwing her head back as she slammed back against Bishop, over and over. He strained to hold her still against him as he gyrated his hips against her ass. The tightness in his balls tempted him to lose control, but he wanted more. Tremors and trembles racked her body as insurmountable pleasure coursed through her veins.

“Fuck, you even come hot,” the man growled, his voice thick with desire. It was then, as he drew his still rock-hard cock from her – leaving Stella empty and cold – that she realized Bishop had held off his release. Without his support, her thighs trembled as residual pleasure wracked her body. Suddenly, her body was swept up into a pair of strong arms. She stared in confusion, before realizing the biker hauled her bridal-style in his arms and started for the room's only bed.

He caught her lips in a hot kiss just before he dropped her unceremoniously onto the bed. The man climbed atop her, his weight pressed down on her, making her nerves jostle with heat. His hands worked at her blouse buttons, gently undoing each one before exposing her torso to the open air. He took a breath to marvel at her body and stare at the soft curves and the lacy pink bra she wore. Bishop felt like a crack addict when it came to the woman's skin. So soft, so warm, her body could damn well be an ecstatic drug. He wanted more of her and wanted to be free to touch at any time. As his palms brushed over her skin, his cock throbbed, reminding Bishop his own sex needed attention.

Stella's frazzled nerves reignited in passion. She writhed and moaned beneath his lips as they headed southward. They skirted over her breasts, before Bishop's deft fingers nimbly undid the clasps beneath her.

The scanty bra was torn away, leaving her jiggling breasts open to cold air and the biker's lust-glazed gaze. After a grunt of appreciation, Bishop swooped down. His hot tongue graved over one nipple, then the other. Stella panted and moaned, her body sensitive from the first orgasm and feeling a second one skirting her senses. “Wh-what are you doing?”

The oral attention on her tits was short-lived as the man soon began kissing his way down her body. His fingertips gingerly brushed over her skin, a feather-light juxtaposition to his scratchy stubble. The man stopped at her thigh, where he suckled and nipped at her supple skin. Stella whimpered, her hips jerking upward. He was so close to her throbbing, still soaking wet pussy, it was torture to restrain himself from planting his lips on her.

His lips twisted into a smirk against her leg, “I ruined your date. Now, I am making up for it.”

The hands continued their journey down her body, to her bunched up pants and shoes. Gently, Bishop coaxed each shoe off her foot before freeing her legs from their confinement. As he further undressed her, Stella trembled. She clenched her eyes shut and, between gasps, said, “Why are you being so gentle?”

“You prefer rough?” He paused on her opposite thigh, his lips still twisted into a smirk. Suddenly, he nipped her hard. Stella yelped, sitting up on her elbows just as Bishop forced her legs further apart. She watched as the man gleefully buried his face against her pussy.

The woman fell back to the bed, hands digging their way through his hair, as sharp-edged pleasure sliced over her. He nibbled and sucked on her swollen lower lips, causing fits of electricity to slam up Stella's body. As she let out breathy half-screams, Bishop's tongue lapped at her slit, before circling her clit. Even harder pleasure throbbed through her, and her body squirmed. She tossed her head side to side, her groans and moans rose in decibel. Her body did anything to alleviate the fast building pressure inside her.