Making Her His (Beating the Biker 1)

Coffee? Must be from the neighbor next door. Apartment living was like that. Sometimes a stray scent invaded the thin walls. But then he remembered the apartment next door was empty, so that couldn’t be it.

He sat up slowly, trying to put together the pieces of his morning and the previous night. He was drinking at the Red Bull last night, and he met the most beautiful girl.

Yeah, he’d had too much to drink.

But as his head cleared, other scents came to him. A distinctive feminine scent drifted from his pillows. The scent of his own cum assaulted his nostrils.

There was a fading wet spot in his sheets.

“Well, you did it this time, Saks,” he scolded himself.

But then a golden-haired goddess stood in his doorway, bearing two cups of coffee. “I didn’t know how you liked it, so I brought it black.”

“Black is good,” he said, his voice sounding rough in his own ears.

She handed him the coffee, and as he took a sip he remembered her name. Chrissy. Beautiful, goddess, Chrissy.

“It’s good,” he said

She shrugged. “It’s your coffee, though you can do with some upgrades.”

“I don’t make it much. I just have it around—” He stopped short, not knowing what to say.

“For when you bring stray women home?” she said with a lift of her eyebrow.

“I don’t...Are you?” he said, switching the direction of questions to her.

“What?”

“A stray woman?”

She turned her head to the side with a thoughtful look. “I’ve never thought of myself as a stray. But I guess you can say I’ve wandered from what’s expected of me.”

Saks lowered his coffee cup and cradled it in his hands. “How’s that?” Damn, this woman was beautiful.

“My family, well, they have it in their heads that I’ll marry a certain guy.”

Saks stared into his coffee cup. The dark liquid rippled with her movement on the bed. He didn’t like this new piece of information, but what say did he have in her life? None. “And you don’t want to?”

“I didn’t work as hard as I have to drop everything to become a housewife.”

“Who says you have to do that?”

?

?No one, yet. But it’s expected.”

He scoffed. “Your family sounds like it comes from the same medieval time as mine does.”

“Oh? And are you supposed to marry someone?”

Saks stared into deeper in his cup. This was a strange conversation to have. “I’ll do what’s right.”

“Ah, a soldier.”

“What do you mean by that?” he said too sharply. In his family’s world soldier had a definite meaning, and not one that he ascribed to himself.

“I mean,” she said, “that you seem like a warrior, someone who can’t be stopped once he makes up his mind.” She took a deep sip of her coffee and put the cup down on the nightstand. “I should get going.”