Romance: Motorcycle Club Romance: Outlaw Biker's Baby (Contemporary Alpha Male MC Biker Romance) (Bad Boy MC Biker Pregnancy Romance) (2 page)

2

Vanessa left the bar thoroughly drunk that night. She had a small
two-door
which she had bought when
she
started college, but she left it in The Devil Dog’s parking lot.
Instead,
she found herself gripping tightly to Tank, on the back of his roaring Harley, as he headed for her home. It was just down Mill
Street
, at the far end, a few miles from the bar. She lived in a small place above a hardware store, her landlord the same man who owned the tool shop. She had a cramped living
room
and even tinier kitchen. A bedroom and a bathroom made up the place. It was a bit depressing, but it was home. Vanessa felt as though she was just starting out. The apartment, the job, it was all an adventure in a way. If she
was
still at either within a few years, maybe it would bother her, but for now, it was fun in a way.

Riding on the bike of the motorcycle was fun too. The thing was loud and
heavy,
and it vibrated between her legs. She held onto tank tightly, her hands on his
well-defined
abs, clenching onto them over his shirt when they went over a bump in the road. She wore his helmet, a black thing with straps that just covered the top of her head. Her brown hair whipped wildly behind her. He had
drunk
a lot, and she knew she should be riding with him, but when he had offered, she just couldn’t say no.

He pulled to a stop in front of her place. She had told him where she lived as she climbed onto the bike, and he had been familiar with Tom’s Hardware. He killed the bike, and after she
got
off,
he did too. She took off his helmet and handed it to him. He set it
atop
the seat.

“Thanks for the ride,” the young woman said.

“I
don’t do nothing
for free,” the biker said with a grin. His teeth were white and straight.

“You want me to pay you for the ride? I didn’t know you were a taxi service.”

Tank laughed. “I don’t want money,” he said. He stepped
forward; his
body was just inches from hers. It was
a cool
night, but she could feel the heat radiating off of him.

“What do you want?” Vanessa asked, looking up to him. She was drunk, her head was buzzing, her thoughts swimming to and fro.

“I’m going to come inside, and I’m going to fuck you.”

Vanessa bit her lip. “Are you going to be rough with me?”

“You want me to be?”

“God yes,” the woman said, and then she jumped into his arms. Their lips met, her
legs
wrapped around his waist. She could feel his cock, already hard and
pulsing
beneath his jeans, pressing against her crotch, which was warm and wet, soaking her silky boy shorts. He walked forward with the woman in his
arms
until her back hit the door with cracked brown paint which led
up stairs
to her apartment door. She reached behind her, having fished her key out of her purse while they still kissed, and unlocked the door. They went in, and Tank carried her up to her place, where another locked door slowed them for only a second.

Inside Tank found his way to her bedroom, small and square, her tiny single bed taking up half of the room. She was embarrassed for a moment, clothes lay about, a purple vibrator sat out on her nightstand, but it was all forgotten when he dumped her onto the bed after one last kiss where his tongue danced with hers. He had tasted like beer and cigarettes and mint, and she had never wanted someone more than she did right then.

Vanessa wasn’t a virgin, she had lost that title in
highschool
, and there had been a few men throughout college, but it had been a while, and the young woman was sure she had never been so wet in her life. She sat up, her legs off the end of the bed, with Tank standing right before her.
She
reached for his belt, pulled it off as he took his leather jacket off. She undid the fly of his jeans, and then he batted her hands away, pulling out his
own
cock. He was long and thick and cut, the head of his cock throbbing right in front of her face. She giggled and leaned forward, planting a kiss on the head, tasting the drop of
precum
which had been there.

“Hell no,” Tank said, and he reached down to her head, gripping the back of her hair painfully. She cried out, parting her lips, and when she did he thrust his hips forward so that his cock slid forcefully into her mouth. He pushed to her throat, and she gagged, looking up
to
him with watery eyes. He laughed and pulled his cock out of her
mouth
.

“Do it again,” she said, gasping for air, and he did so. In and out of her
mouth
, pushing to the back of her throat, forcing her to swallow the head of his cock each time, feeling his massive girth in her actual throat. He used her, her spit turning into a froth at the base of his cock as he fucked her mouth. He reached down as he was pushing in and out past her lips, his hand sliding down into her shirt through the low cut scoop, rough and calloused. He cupped her breast through the bra, feeling her hard nipple against his palm. She pulled back from his cock, and when he reached down to hold her head
again,
she pushed his hand away.

“Lay down,” she said, feeling some sense of authority, and the man grinned, but he did what she said. She stood up, turning so he could see her as she pulled her shirt off, and then unclipped her bra, letting the straps slide slowly down her shoulders. She tossed the bra away, exposing her perfectly round breasts.

“Amazing,” he
said softly
, taking them in. She knew he
was used
to bigger and faker, but she was proud of her body, and she was glad he seemed to enjoy it.

Next went her pants, sliding down her legs slowly, and then she turned, still wearing her blue boy shorts, the crotch of the panties a darker blue, so soaked with her primal juices. She let the man take in her ass, taut and round. He sat up, reaching for her, his strong fingers digging into her ass cheeks. He groped at her and then ripped the boy shorts down, and she turned.

“Lay down,” she said again, and he did. She pulled his pants fully off, and he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor before laying
fully
down again. His cock
jut
straight into the air, veins thick along its side.

Vanessa crawled atop
him,
straddling him with a knee on the bed on either side of his pelvis, and then, using her hand to guide him into her, she lowered herself onto his massive member.

She moaned aloud as she came down
fully
on him, his cock buried
to
his pelvic hair and balls in her tight pussy.

“Fuck,” he groaned, taking the word right out of her mouth. She rocked up and forward, his cock sliding out of her, slick with her juices, and then, right as the domed head of his penis threatened to slip out of her snatch, she rolled her hips back and came down.

As she rode him her hands lay on his chest, fingernails digging painfully into his pecs. His hands were on her
breasts; each
nipple
rolled between a thumb and forefinger. He leaned up, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping as his other hand slid around to her back, and then fell to her butt, where he grabbed and squeezed her as she rocked atop him.

She leaned back, bracing herself by putting her hands on his calves while she looked up at the ceiling. He reached down, using his thumb to rub her engorged clit as she rocked back and forth. It didn’t take long for her to come, she yelled out as she did so, the orgasm rolling in from the pit of her stomach, moving down her extremities, causing her toes to curl and her fingers to grip tightly onto his legs. When she
was done,
he pushed her roughly off, and she fell onto her stomach. She went to roll over but he was too fast, and he kept her facing down but then pulled her up onto her hands and knees. He grabbed her ass cheeks and spread them, and for one shocking moment Vanessa was sure Tank meant to shove his massive cock into her ass, something she had never done, but he just rubbed the
head off
his cock against her anus before dropping it lower and sliding into her gushing cunt.

He took her hard and fast, pounding her at a furious rate. Her tits swung back and forth painfully, and
he
kept a solid grip on her ass as he fucked her doggy style. It wasn’t long before he was about to bust, his breath rapid, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Come here,” he groaned, and he pulled his cock out of her, and she turned, helped along by his hand on the back of her neck. She got her mouth onto his cock just as he came, spraying long strands of sticky, salty come into her
mouth
. She tasted his spunk, and
tasted
her
own
pussy; his
cock was wet with her juices, and when he
was finally done
spraying she lay back, covered in sweat and panting. She swallowed him and smiled. “Show me,” he said, and she opened her mouth to reveal that his spunk was long gone, on
it’s
way to her stomach. “You’re a hell of a girl,” the biker said, and she laughed.

3

Vanessa saw a lot of Tank for the next few months. She felt dumb asking if they were dating, but she didn’t see him with any other girls in the bar, and they spent a lot of nights together. Their sex life was
amazing
, and
she
opened up in ways she never thought she would with him. She would suck his cock in a fast food
bathroom; they
fucked under the stars a few miles outside of town. They fucked a lot, hard pounding sessions that could stretch for hours until they were both sweaty and she had a
couple of
loads on her and in her. They never made love, but Vanessa was alright with that. She didn’t think Tank was the kind of guy who would ever be gentle with her.

He wasn’t romantic at all, but she could tell her cared for her. He treated her well, never raised a hand to her, and they never argued. The only source of contention in their relationship that first few months was the night Vanessa was sure she was about to see her boyfriend killed. It was A Thursday night, pretty slow for The Devil Dog, but Tank and a few of his Python friends were in the corner, laughing and drinking, and she was at the bar when three men came in. They had denim and
leather,
and all three had big bushy beards. They were obviously bikers. Two of the men went to get a table while the third came towards the bar. Susan was there too, and she mumbled under her breath.

“Oh shit,” she said.

“What is it?” Vanessa asked.

The man was almost to the bar, so Susan didn’t say anything, but she motioned to the two other men. They had turned so Vanessa could see the back of their vests. Here the Python’s had the snake and skeleton sigil for their
club; these
jackets had a hornet on the back. These men were Yellowjackets.

Even in a short time being with Tank, Vanessa had heard all about the Yellowjackets. They were a somewhat local
club
and a rival to the Python’s. The Yellowjackets popularity had gone down in recent years, but just a decade or two ago the two motorcycle clubs fought often. More than a few men had died in those scraps, and getting a Yellowjacket in the same room with a Python was sure to lead to trouble.

“Three beers,” the man who came to the
bar,
said.

“Get on out of here, we don’t want to be cleaning broken chairs up,” Susan said, not batting an eye. “You know this is a Python’s place.”

“They don’t have
claim
to bars now, do they?” The man asked. “Just looking for a drink babe, why don’t you get a few for me.”

“Get on outta here,” Susan said. The man grinned and turned his attention to Vanessa. She had been looking over to the corner, where Tank and his friends sat. There were four of them altogether, and they had certainly noticed the Yellowjackets who had come into the bar.

“Why don’t you get us the beers you sweet little thing,” the man said to Vanessa. “Then come on over to our table, I’d love to see how you feel on my lap.”

“Get lost,” Vanessa said, but the man just laughed and reached across the bar for her. Vanessa yelled out and tried to twist away, but he was too fast and got his fingers curled around her arm.

“Come on babe,” the man said. Vanessa opened her mouth to say something, but she never had the chance.
Tank
came out of nowhere, slamming into the man. And just like that, the fight was on.

There were a handful of patrons other than the men in the two clubs, but they stayed out of it. The three Yellow Jackets took on the four Python’s. Punches were thrown, kicks taken to the stomach. And then one of the Yellowjackets pulled out a knife, and he went after Big Tim, the oldest of the Python’s present. The blade sliced through the side of his neck, and blood sprayed in a  crimson arc across the bar. Vanessa screamed, and Big Tim went down.

Susan was quick, on the phone with the cops. Earl, a big man who cooked three days a week came out from the kitchen, and he kneeled next to Big Tim and pressed dishrags to his wound. Big Tim was screaming, and incredulously, trying to
push
Earl out of the way so he could get back to the fight.

Vanessa couldn’t take her eyes off of Tank. She wanted to go to him, to help him, to tell him to forget it and run, that the fight had taken a horrible turn and she was scared for his safety, but she couldn’t. Her man fought with ferocity, his fists landing again and again on the man with the knife’s face, the blade dropped and forgotten on the floor after it was kicked accidentally under a table.

It was only forgotten for a
moment,
though. Another Yellowjacket found it, and he advanced on Tank, coming up behind him. He raised the blade, and Vanessa was sure she was about to see the man she was growing to love be killed. She grabbed the first thing she could, a beer bottle from under the bar, and she threw it.

The glass bottle shattered when it slammed into the back of the man with the knife’s head, and he crumpled to the floor, knocked out cold. Vanessa felt sick, watching that man fall to the ground. She didn’t know if minutes had passed, or hours, but without warning red and blue lights were flashing through the front windows as three cop cars came flying into the parking lot, icing up dust and gravel. The cops came into the bar with guns
drawn
, and the fight was over. Tank and the other bikers were arrested and carted off separately as more
cop
cars came onto the scene. Big Tim
was taken
to the hospital, and the bar closed. Vanessa went home, frightened and worried, and wanting to hear from Tank.

Instead, when he phone rang just after four in the morning, it was Susan. “Big Tim is dead,” the woman said, and then she started crying, and it was only then that Vanasse remembered that Susan had mentioned dating Big Tim once, years ago. She hung up after trying to console the
woman
and found herself wondering if she would cry if any of her exes died.
She
wasn't sure she would. And then she wondered if she would be crying if Tank had died. She
was pretty
confident
she would be. She
really
did care for the man. He had a heart, underneath it all, one he was just starting to show her.

The other week he had opened up about his family. His father had left when he was a kid, and he lost his mother to cancer when he was fifteen. She told him about losing her
own
parents. They had something in common. He had kissed her
then
before he left her apartment, and it was soft and sweet and lingering.

The next morning she did get a call from Tank. He sounded tired, almost bored.

“Are you alright?” She asked.

“Yeah, can you
come get
me?” He said.

“What’s happening to you? They’re letting you out?”

Tank laughed. “
Come pick
me up and I’ll tell you.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.” Vanessa hung up and then splashed water on her face and got dressed, pulling on jeans and a tee shirt. She hurried out to her car, and within twenty minutes was parked beside the county jail, rushing to the door there. She
was let
into a small room with white linoleum floor tiles and bright lights which buzzed audibly overhead. She signed a
clipboard
and told a grumpy looking man who sat behind a glass window
who
she was there to pick up. She waited for ten minutes, sitting on an uncomfortable chair and tapping her foot impatiently on the linoleum.
Finally,
there was a buzz and a heavy door swung open next to the glass with the grumpy man behind it, and Tank
was led
into the room by a large man of about fifty in an
ill-fitting
guards uniform. She went to stand with her boyfriend while he was passed his belongings through a slit under the glass by the grumpy man. It was just his wallet, a pocket knife, and a pack of gum. Then he turned and smiled and swept Vanessa up into his arms.

“You alright?” He asked, and Vanessa laughed.

“Are you okay?” She countered. “You’re the one who spent the night in jail.”

“Old shit,” Tank said with a shrug. “Let’s go.”

She led him out to her
car
and laughed as she watched the man squirm
uncomfortably
as she drove to the bar so he could get his bike. He
really
wasn’t at home on four wheels, only on two it seemed. She asked him a few questions, but he didn’t
really
seem
to want to talk, so she fell silent. She wondered if he was upset about Big Tim.

When they pulled into the lot, parking at the front of The Devil Dog, next to his bike, she had to ask.

“Are you thinking about Big Tim?”

Tank smiled softly and looked
to
her. He seemed to want to say something, but his lips remained touching for a long time.
Finally,
he shrugged and opened the door, swinging his foot out. She reached out and took him by the arm before he could get away.

“Talk to me,” the young woman said.

Tank looked over to her. “Thanks for the ride,” he said, and she pulled her hand away from his arm, and he got out. She waited until he was atop his bike and roared out of the parking lot without even glancing back to her before she put her car in drive and headed to home.

The next few days were strange between the two young lovers. Big Tim
was buried
, and Vanessa went, although she went with Susan and not Tank. He rode his roaring bike, along with the rest of the Pythons. Seeing all the members of the club in one spot was a bit of an eye opener for Vanessa. There were well over a hundred of them. The most she had seen at one time in the bar was twenty or so. They rode in a long, slow progression through town, up a winding, dusty
two-lane
highway until they got to the cemetery, a green oasis which stood out amongst the Utah brown and orange. A priest was there, one like Vanessa had never seen before. He wore the collar, had the robe on, but he also had a tattoo on his neck, a spider which crept out past the collar. He said a few
words
though Vanessa wasn’t listening. She was looking at Tank.

He didn’t weep, though a few men did openly, which surprised the young woman. She thought these guys would bottle up their emotions, would try to be tough, but they all seemed genuinely devastated. It turned out that Big Tim had a couple of kids, two boys, one fifteen and one in college. Vanessa felt for them. She knew how hard it was to lose a parent. Their mother was there, so she took solace that
they, at least,
had her.

After the
burial,
there was a wake back in town. The Devil Dog was too small to hold everyone, so the back door was thrown open and the wake spilled out into the lot. It wasn’t
a wake
as much as a party, where the bikers drank and laughed and remembered their dead friend. Vanessa had to work, and she didn’t get a chance to speak with her boyfriend.

The next morning she went to see him. He lived in a trailer just outside of town, in a small mobile home park which was at least eighty percent Python. She knocked on his door, and it took him a few moments to answer. When he saw
her,
he sighed.

“What?” He said.

Vanessa felt defensive. “I’m worried about you,” she said. “Maybe I shouldn’t be?”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t be. I’m a big boy, Vanessa.”

“Fine,” the young woman said, anger boiling up inside her. That anger was quickly replaced by pure rage when she heard another voice, a feminine one from inside Tank’s trailer.

“What is it Tank, come to bed.”

The woman who had
spoke
came into view. She was wearing nothing but a pair of panties, her big breasts fake and covered in dried sperm from the night before. She was blonde, and wore too much makeup, and her lipstick
was smeared
.

“What the
fuck
Tank?” Vanessa said, and then, without a warning to him, and without being able to stop herself, she hauled back and hit him. She always thought if she ever struck a man it would be a slap, but maybe it was the influence that Tank had on her the last few months, she didn’t
slap
tank. She hit him. Punched him. With her fist. She curled her fingers inward, and drove her fist forward, right into his nose.

The blonde bimbo screamed and rushed forward, and
this time,
Vanessa had time to think.
Why the hell not?
Is what flashed through her mind, as she punched the bimbo too. She left them then, Tank
not
speaking but standing there wide eyed with blood pouring from a broken nose, and the girl crying on the floor with an angry welt already growing
on
her eye.