Hard Rider

He growled against my clit, used one hand to push me back down onto the bed, grabbing at my breast, letting me know who was in charge. Sucking my clit between his lips, he drove his fingers against my g-spot, harder with each curling thrust. My hips worked against him, desire whipping against my flesh, hurtling me through a darkness I hadn't known in a long time. I could feel the wave building in my womb, his tongue a symphony against my swollen clit, his hands rough and demanding and everything I needed.

“Cross...oh, Cross, fuck, Cross..!” I breathed his name again and again as the wave built and swelled inside me. Any moment, I would shatter. He could sense it too, and his tongue wrapped around my clit, flicking it while his fingers worked inside me. He drew his teeth down, only just barely grazing my throbbing clit, and the sharpness drove me over the edge.

The wave broke and ran its current through my veins, pleasure stiffening my spine, my muscles turned to rubber bands as my pussy flooded his palm. He kept holding me, licking me, through it all, through my frenzied cries, my hands grabbing at his head like he was the only thing keeping me on earth. Finally, I had to push his head away, the sensations turning from pleasure to pain as my overstimulated clit throbbed.

“Shit,” I breathed, feeling deflated – and yet as he rose between my legs, hard as rock behind his jeans, I found myself heated all over again, hungry for his taste.

“I told you,” he said through a smirk. “Next time…”

“Shut up,” I hissed, coming to my knees and grabbing his head, bringing it down to meet my lips. I moaned, the taste of him on my tongue so dirty it hurt. He kissed me back, toying with my tongue, gripping my hair in both hands. Finally, I pulled away, licking my lips and looking down at the bulge in his pants. I reached down, cupped it, and met his eyes again, daring him to stop me.

My fingers were shaking. He was so hard, I could feel him pulsing even through the thick denim of his jeans; unleashing it, I moaned, remembering its thickness, its length, how it fit perfectly inside my tight pussy. But tonight, I would only taste him. I couldn't fuck him with this secret on my shoulders; but I could taste him, and that's just what I wanted to do.

He was impatient, and buried his hands in my hair, pushing me forward until my tongue met his silky head, a drop of pre-cum sliding down my throat, musky and so fucking hot. There was no way I could fit the whole shaft into my mouth, so I gripped the base in one hand while my tongue lapped at the head, his groan of pleasure inciting fever in my movement.

I wanted to make him come, show him he wasn't the only one with a magic tongue. His hips thrust forward, driving himself into my mouth, taking me at his own pace. I kept up, running my tongue along the bottom of his shaft, sucking the tender flesh against my cheeks and towards my throat.

When I could, I looked up, saw his eyes on me, watching me suck him. My hand pumped at the base of his shaft, the rest of him disappearing, inch by inch, into my mouth. I hummed as his head hit my throat, felt the vibration all the way down. He gripped my hair harder, nearly tugging the strands from my scalp, letting me know that he liked me just where I was; I wasn't going anywhere soon.

“Touch yourself.”

I was already wet as a river, my clit hypersensitive. Now, with his cock in my throat, I was ready to come again, my hand flying to my dripping pussy, rolling along my clit as I moaned in satisfaction and gratitude. Cross grabbed my head in both hands, held it in place. I couldn't move, and didn't want to. I wanted to come with his dick in my throat, I wanted him to fuck my mouth until he burst inside me. His hips drove slow and hard against my face, my breathing ragged, my fingers flying across and around my swollen clit.

“Holy shit, Bex,” he groaned, watching me touch myself and suck his cock at the same time. Hearing him say my name was crippling, and I moaned, nearly collapsed down onto my heels, every sensation magnified. I closed my eyes, just letting it all roll through me, the building pressure in my womb, Cross' thrusts growing faster and harder, pushing himself into my throat, abusing my mouth. I matched the pace of my fingers to his thrusts, tears threatening to stream down my cheeks as he pumped into my throat.

“That's it, baby,” Cross growled. “You missed this fucking cock, didn't you?”

I did. I so fucking did. I missed it so much that when he grabbed my head and thrust it forward, nearly stuffing my throat with his swollen cock, I came. Bucking on my knees and dripping down my thighs, I felt the bottom of the world drop away, my body shattered and suspended in pure pleasure. The feel of his cum hitting the back of my throat, hot and thick, only drove me further into the abyss. He gave me everything, and I tried to swallow every drop.

When he pulled away, I could finally breathe, and I did, in huge gasps. It was like coming out of some vacuum, the world around me seemed stranger, brighter, even luminous. Cross stumbled backwards, his wilting cock in his hand, but recovered soon enough and pulled me up to my feet.

I started laughing.

That kind of wild, aimless, hysterical laughter that usually gets you thrown in the looney bin.

But he laughed, too, and we collapsed onto his bed together, each still tasting the other on our tongues, laughing like the children we once were, satisfied like the adults we'd become. While we laughed, I thought of nothing. It was the best I'd felt since Dutch came barreling into my life like a one-man wrecking crew. If I could have just kept that moment, bottled and jarred forever, everything would be perfect.

Bex

For what it's worth, I tried.

For all you might think of me, I did try.

I walked straight into Dutch's den of lions, and I tried.

I failed miserably and crashed and burned and nearly died, but I tried.

Dutch's office, in the very back of the clubhouse, wasn't usually under guard, but on that day, two days after Cross dragged me kicking and screaming through paradise, I had to convince a tough named Soldier to let me in. He was young, not someone who would know me by face. But I assumed he would at least recognize my name; I was living in the clubhouse, after all, and Dutch would have had to pass that by the brothers at Church.

“Whatchu want,” Soldier said, looking down at me without trying to hide the lust in his eyes.

“I gotta talk to Dutch,” I said, staring right back at him.

“What makes you think Dutch wants to talk to you,” he argued, taking a step towards me. I knew this was a dangerous situation. Usually, any woman in the clubhouse who wasn't wearing someone's name on the back of their jacket was up for grabs. And this guy looked like he could do a lot of grabbing.

“Why don't you ask him, Einstein,” I shot back. “Tell him Bex Carter needs to talk to him.”

“And why should I do that?” Soldier asked, eyes gleaming like a vulture. “What're you gonna do for me, if I do somethin' like that for you?”

He seemed to have an answer to that question, because his hands were already working on his belt.

“You best stop that shit right now,” I spat. “My daddy's name is on the wall, you can go down and read it if you want. I'm not some fucking lollipop.”

“I ain't readin' shit,” Soldier growled, and with his belt undone, he made for me. “Mouthy bitch...”

He grabbed my hair, and I screamed. But screaming wasn't all I was good for. I also scratched the ever-loving shit out of his face, and introduced his family jewels to the bony part of my knee.

“The fuck is goin' on down there? Soldier, what the fuck do you think you're doin' to Bex?”

The pressure on my head immediately disappeared as Soldier released me, slinging curses from his cut lip.

“Mouthy little bitch wanted me to...”

My savior appeared, good old Fleet, walking as fast as his legs could take him.

“I don't care if she wanted you to lick her boots all the way up to her pussy,” Fleet snapped. “You ain't been patched long enough to lay hands on Vicious' kin.”

“Well, I didn't know she was anything...”

“You wouldn't

know your own dick from a pencil stub,” Fleet kept on. “Get your ass out of here, I don't want to look at your fuckin' face.”

“But I'm on duty, I'm...”

Soldier was losing steam, fast. Cut in quarters by a man old enough to be his grandpa, over some broad who probably didn't look like anything special at all. I couldn't help but smirk at his dismay.

“I'll take over,” Fleet grunted. “Fuck off, go drain your balls somewhere, they're takin' all the blood from your brain.”

Soldier went off, muttering, down the hall, shooting me one hateful look over his shoulder.

“You alright, Bex?” Fleet asked, genuinely concerned. Fleet and my daddy were close as could be back then. He always treated me and Mama right.

“I'm fine,” I said, my heart jackhammering. That wasn't the ideal way to start this mission, but it got my adrenaline rushing, which was a good thing. “I think I got him better than he got me. Thanks for coming to my rescue though, Fleet.”