Broken Ride (Men of Valor MC)

“It hurts, but I like it so much,” she said, turning around.

She took my enormous erection in her mouth and bobbed her head as she sucked it in and out. She swirled her tongue on the tip and buzzed her plump lips on my head. Looking up at me sweetly, Sky backed off my dick so I could see her talk.

“Dex, I want you to fuck my ass,” she told me, then slurped up my cock again taking it all the way to the back of her throat.

“Jesus, Sky, I’m gonna come,” I protested.

She popped her lips of end of my erection and turned again, offering me her sweet ass in the air. I massaged her butt cheeks as I rubbed the head of my cock on her clit. With lubricant from her still pulsating pussy, I brought it up to her ass and massaged her hole with two slippery fingers. She didn’t flinch, but her noises came from deep in her chest and I could feel the vibration. Her body was talking to me again in that sweet, sexy, and intimate language only the two of us knew.

I put the head of my cock on her hole and Sky bravely pushed back. It was so tight, my balls cinched and I had to bite down on my lip to keep from blowing my load.

Skylar sure knew how to give a man one hell of a wedding present.

I pushed forward slowly and felt her expand under my rock hard cock. When she was finally relaxed enough, I thrust until my hips were flush with her ass cheeks. Just the sight of taking her like that made me start to orgasm, so I fucked her just a few times before I was spurting my cum hot and deep inside her. I pushed her hips down and fell my full weight on top of her svelte frame, my heart pounding, my ears ringing, my heart expanding with love while my mind was totally blown.

Sky curled into me like a cat and fell into a deep sleep in my arms.

I’d married the love of my life, she was one hell of a woman, and I was the luckiest man alive.

Epilogue Two- Ten years later

Sky

In our foyer hangs a framed pencil drawing of me working at the shelter. I must have been all of seventeen years old, handing out sleeping palettes, jean shorts, hair in a ponytail. I look small and kind of frail to be moving heavy things. In the background, some of the guys from Valor are setting them up. It’s an interesting juxtaposition, gangly neglected kids setting up their beds with burly motorcycle guys tucking them in. Some might look at the drawing and think it seems odd, but for me, it’s a comforting image from a time when my life finally turned around. Some of those rough looking men are owners of the gentlest souls. Like my dad and my husband to just name a few. For our daughter Jojo, it’s all she’s ever known. Motorcycles and leather jackets are as familiar to Joanne as scrubs and a stethoscope. She also knows drawing tables, sketch pads and an artist’s charcoal pencils. What she doesn’t know is heartbreak, abuse or neglect. Her mom and dad are her heroes and her grandparents a close second-best. Mom works long hours but only a few days a week, and dad’s job is cool because he gets to draw things and then have parties at galleries where everyone dresses up.

“Okay, Mom! We’re done. You can come in now!” Jojo hollers from upstairs.

I’d been banished from her room where she and Daddy were working on a top secret project all morning. The thing about daddy’s girls is that they emulate behaviour and instead of a princess room, Jojo had asked for a “Harley bed” which Dex and Miller had spent months’ worth of weekends constructing in the garage. Our Joanne also knew the difference between lug nuts for motorcycles and the ones for trucks, or a Philips head versus a Torx. Once, on a return trip from dance, when the Jeep was acting up, Jojo asked when I’d last changed the oil and weighed in with the mechanic when I dropped it off at the auto body shop. But she was well-rounded enough, she could sing and dance, draw the real anatomy of bones, she even splinted her doll’s leg after she’d forcefully broken it off. Jojo had grown up learning ASL along with spoken language, she was fluent and signed so beautifully, strangers often told her she should interpret for a living when she grew up.

I lumbered up the stairs, my growing belly slowing my progress significantly. Jojo threw open the door and yelled, “Surprise!” with her arms reaching for the sky.

Inside her room, Dex was seated on the carpet, backlit by the sunlight streaming into the room.