5 Bikers for Valentines

Sliding my fingers deep within me, I imagined them to be his. I imagined him fucking me with his thick, callused fingers while his tongue devoured me whole. I thought about what it would feel like to dig my heels into the muscles of his back. Making him moan into me as I coated his beard with my juices. My nipples puckered and my skin began to heat. My mind swirled with thoughts of his shirtless form as I imagined him devouring my body.

“I’m so close. I’m so close. Brian, don’t stop.”

I came so hard I made myself light-headed. I screwed my eyes shut and allowed myself to shake, imagining Brian holding me close to his face. I could feel his beard tickling my thighs as his hands slid up my body, cupping my breasts and massaging them until I came down from my high.

But when I opened my eyes, I was alone. The water was about to overflow the tub, and I could smell the scent of my sex in the air. I reached my shaking leg up and turned off the water before I sank underneath and wet my hair.

It had been a long time since I’d come that hard. And all because that asshole couldn’t put on a shirt.

CHAPTER 6

Brian

“Uncle Bwian, do you like Amana?”

I whipped my head up at Lanie’s question as I ran the soapy washcloth over her stomach.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Don’t friends come over?”

“She came over for dinner,” I said.

“One time,” Lanie said.

“You want her to come over more often?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

It was like this little girl could read my mind. I had been thinking about Amanda all day and how her leg was doing. The dinner we had shared together had been pleasant. She got along well with Lanie despite the fact that I didn’t enjoy having company over, and she seemed to have embedded herself in my thoughts. Even though she was a stranger and I told myself I needed to be wary of her, my mind wouldn’t let her go.

“Amana come over soon?” Lanie asked.

“How about I think about it?” I asked.

“Please?”

“I said I’ll think about it, Lanie.”

The little girl sat down in her bath and began to pout. I was concerned that Lanie was already getting too attached. The last thing this little girl needed was to get attached to another woman before she left. She had already lost her mother. I was coaching her through those nights where she woke up crying and wanting her. She wasn’t at an age where she understood death, but she saw enough children going into town to notice they were with women. Women they called “mother” while she only called me “uncle.”

“All right,” I said as I unplugged the tub. “Bedtime.”

“Movie?” Lanie asked.

“No, bedtime.”

“Snack?”

“No, sweetheart. Bedtime,” I said.

“Snuggle?”

I chuckled as I wrapped a towel around her and picked her up from the tub.

“Maybe a little snuggling.”

I dried her off and dressed her in pajamas before I tucked her into bed. I climbed beside her and pulled out her favorite book while she cuddled into me. Lanie loved it when I read to her, especially this new book her nanny had brought over the other day. It was a book of Dr. Seuss stories, and Lanie giggled at the silliness of the rhymes.