Biker Baby (Kings of Mayhem MC 3)

It was a ridiculous concept. The contract. But I was desperate. I needed someone to help me keep my hands off my ridiculously fuckable roommate.

He stood up and took a step toward me. He wore his usual pair of belted black pants sitting low on his hips. Heat radiated off his naked chest and a pulse took up between my thighs as he stepped between my knees.

“It hasn’t complicated things so far,” he said.

My arms fell to my side. “Caleb . . .”

I went to protest, but without a word he cupped my face in his big hands and pressed his lips to mine. I refused to kiss him back, no matter how much I wanted to, and kept my lips glued shut.

“Kiss me . . .” he whispered against my lips.

I opened my mouth to argue, but his tongue swept in and his lips took command. And because I have absolutely zero self-discipline whatsoever, I melted against him, my body begging for more. I was so damn turned on it was ridiculous. He hoisted me up onto the counter and pressed himself against me.

“We shouldn’t,” I moaned against his mouth, while at the same time fumbling with the buckle of his belt.

“Yes, we should,” he breathed, his hands holding my face to his. “I haven’t signed your damn contract yet.”

He swooped me up in his arms, kissing me fiercely as he walked us out of the kitchen, through the living room and to his bedroom. At the doorway I wriggled to my feet and took a step away from him. I put my hand on his broad chest to keep some space between us, and shook my head.

“I mean it, Caleb,” I said breathlessly while looking at him pleadingly. “We have to think seriously about what we’re doing.”

“I am thinking very seriously about what I’m doing.” He raised an eyebrow. “And what I am about to do.”

His black pants were tented at the front, his desire on full display, and my insides throbbed with need.

“Please,” I begged. I could barely breathe with want.

He scrubbed his hands down his face. “Fine.”

“Really?”

He stepped back to me and put his hands on my shoulders. “We’ll do it your way. For now.”

CALEB

I was hard as fuck and Honey was standing there in a tiny pair of shorts and a barely there top, telling me we couldn’t take this any farther. Jesus Christ, talk about blue balls. I sighed. Even after a full night of lovemaking the night before, my body still ached for her. I didn’t know what it was about Honey but it was fucking hard work keeping my hands off her.

But she was insisting we remain friends, not lovers, and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to press her about it. If she wanted to keep things platonic, then I was going to respect her wishes.

For now.

But once our baby was born, I was going to be merciless in my pursuit of her.

Frustrated, I took a shower. I stood under the water feeling hot and prickly, and had to take care of my raging hard-on myself. With one hand pressed against the shower tiles and the other wrapped around my cock, I began to stroke. It didn’t take long, and my knees went soft and my climax hit me like a truck. I groaned and it reverberated around the bathroom as thick ropes of cum shot out of my cock and onto my fisted hand.

It was never as good as the real thing, though, but something told me I’d be doing a lot of this until Honey got over this platonic bullshit.

CALEB

On a Saturday about five weeks after I moved into Honey’s apartment, Tully married Heidi, one of the actresses from Head Quarters.

Now, when you belong to an MC, getting married is a big fucking deal.

We might be bikers and we might be rough. Hell, we might be so far from what you might think is suitable in society. But whatever you thought of us, the Kings of Mayhem knew how to throw a fucking party.

And Tully and Heidi’s wedding gave us the chance to throw a huge one!

Tully, our Coke-bottle glasses wearing club member, was in a seventies’ tuxedo, a powder-blue polyester get-up with wide lapels, a ruffled shirt with frills, and a black tie. While his wife-to-be towered over him in a barely there, tight white dress, her hem high and her long legs traveling on forever. Diamonds glittered in a garter wrapped around a smooth, exposed thigh. And she carried a bouquet of black roses Mrs. Stephens had ordered in from New Orleans.

Cade and I stood beside them in our black suits, white shirts without ties, and suspenders. While Heidi’s two bridesmaids wore what Honey would call romper suits. They were made out of some black, flimsy fabric, were short, and showed a hell of a lot of boob.