His hand slowly moves down, pushing my hair back. Then, he slides his fingers through my long locks, before grabbing the back of my neck. There is something about his touch that is different this time. It’s gentle but also electrifying, sending a zap of pure energy through my body. It’s also possesive, as if he is marking me as his own. I want to be his, more than I’ve ever wanted anything in the world.
Grabbing my hand, he asks, “Are you sure about this?”
“Yeah,” I mumble, fear creeping into my voice.
As much as I want him, my mind is running in overdrive. Being a virgin, and the daughter of an MC President, I have very little experience with this shit. Other than a few kisses from high school boys brave enough to risk my father’s wrath, I’m completely naïve about this stuff. Well, as naïve as a girl that grew up in a biker clubhouse can be. I’ve always wanted Boz, even dreamed that he would be my first, maybe only. But now that it’s about to happen, my ass is freaking out in a major way.
“Don’t be nervous. Nothing will happen that you don’t want to,” he says, reading my mood.
He then takes my hand and leads me into the treeline behind the clubhouse. With each step we take, the sounds of the party grow more faint. The only light is the shining of the moon, making it seem as if we are in a world of our own. We walk in silence for a few minutes, until we come to a clearing just beside a creek. It’s a place I know well.
He takes the blanket from me, and as he spreads it out on the ground, he says, “No one should bother us here.”
My eyes stare at the moonlight reflecting off the water and ask, “How did you know this place was here?”
“Your dad showed it to me a while back. The fucker made me go fishing with him,” Boz says, surprising the shit out of me.
This spot has always been special to me; it reminds me of Mom. We lost her to breast cancer, not long after I met Boz for the first time. Losing her nearly killed Dad and me both. Being here brings back a ton of wonderful memories of her and our family. It’s where my mom taught me to swim, where we would have tea parties and talk about girly crap. It’s also a place my dad would take us, just to get away from the club for a few minutes. He said it was our spot, a place for our family to be together. The last time Dad brought me here was the day after Mom’s funeral. We sat by the creek, and I cried in his arms until I fell asleep.
“I know it’s no fancy bed, but I always liked it out here,” Boz says as he sits down and pulls me down beside him. “I hope you’re okay being out here.”
The sound of crickets chirping reaches my ears as a huge smile spreads across my face. I’m more than okay; I’m absolutely estatic. I have the man of my dreams by my side, and we are in the most beautiful place God ever created. How could it get any better?
I look up at him and, with all honesty, say, “I think it’s perfect.”
He raises his hand and runs his thumb along my cheek. “Good. A woman like you deserves perfection.”
I know he’s running a game on me. I can tell that these are lines he’s used a million times before. Still, it doesn’t matter. He is saying everything I need to hear, everything I’ve ever dreamed he would say. I want more, more of him.
He then leans down and places his lips on mine, igniting a fire deep inside me. A nearly silent whimper escapes me, allowing his tongue to sneak inside. His lips are aggressive and fierce, his tongue gliding against mine as he devours me. It goes on and on, before he finally pulls back and leans his forehead against mine.
“You taste fucking amazing,” he says with a groan.
Not guarding my words, I tell him, “I will remember that kiss for the rest of my life. I will never forget the way your tongue feels when it’s wrapped around mine.”
He lifts his head just a little and simply stares at me for a second, as if he can’t beleive what I just said. Finally, his lips come back to mine. He slowly pushes me backwards, until I am laying flat on the blanket, and continues to kiss me as his body comes down on mine. We kiss for a few minutes, our hands all over each other. Touching and caressing, we get as close as we can to each other with our clothes still on.
Finally, he starts to lift my shirt. As soon as his hand touches my stomach, I go wild. Sitting up, I pull off my shirt. I do the same to him, trying to jerk his shirt off.
“Slow down, darlin’,” he says, slipping off his cut and tossing it on the edge of the blanket.
He then pulls off his shirt, giving me my first glimpse of his ink-covered chest. I reach out to touch the massive Grim Bastard tat, but he stops me, going in for another kiss. At the same time, he reaches up and rubs his hand along the seam of my bra, barely touching my breast.
Slipping a finger inside the cup, he whispers, “So fucking beautiful.”
He reaches around and unsnaps it, allowing my bra to drop to the ground. “Oh yeah, more beautiful than I ever imagined.”
His lips meet mine again, stealing my breath away. His hand caresses my breast as he takes my puckered nipple in between his fingers and squeezes, before giving it a twist. My pussy convulses with anticipation of what’s to come. I am soaking wet with desire. Unable to stop myself, I rub my thighs together just to get a little friction.
He tightens his fingers on my nipple and says, “Fuck, darlin’, you’re gonna have to quit doing that. I can feel the heat coming off of that sweet little pussy everytime you move. My dick is already so damn hard, it’s about to bust out of my pants.”
“I want you.” I reach down and rub my hand over his jean-covered cock.
At first contact, fear starts to fill me again. He’s hard as hell and so fucking huge. I may have never touched a dick before, but I’ve seen my fair share around the clubhouse. None have been this big. The thought of him trying to fit in my body is as terrifying as it is exciting.
My hand works up and down his length, squeezing tight each time I come to the tip. With each squeeze, he lets out a grunt. The sound is driving me insane with need. He pulls back enough to unbutton my jeans. He slides them down, taking my panties with them. As soon as they join my other clothes, he comes back down on me.
As his tongue invades my mouth once again, a moan of pure pleasure escapes me. As if he knows what I need, his hand slides between my legs, tweaking my clit. Instinctively, I lift my hips to meet his searching fingers. I need his cock to be inside me.
When he finally rubs his fingers in between my folds, he mumbles, “Fuck, Trix. Your pussy is soaking wet. I can’t wait to feel it wrapped around my dick.”
“Please,” I beg, not quite sure what I am asking for.
One of his fingers enters me, curling up to touch the bundle of nerves hidden deep inside. It feels so damn good I almost come from the pressure alone. As he slides his finger in and out, he uses his thumb to rub small circles over my clit. Unable to hold back a minute more, I let out a long moan.
I grab onto both of his shoulders and pull him toward me, needing his lips on mine. As his tongue enters my mouth again, he pushes another finger inside, stretching me to my limits. My hips keep moving against his hand, until fireworks explode in my body.
As my pussy convulses around his fingers, he groans. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you.”
Placing my lips on his, I say, “I need you inside me now.”
He kisses me one more time before getting up to unbutton his jeans. “I’d like nothing more, darlin’.”
After he gets his pants unsnapped and the zipper down, he kicks off his boots. Just as he starts to push his jeans down, the sound of someone walking through the woods hits my ear. “Boz, brother, get your ass back to the club house.”
Boz stops, zips his pants back. “What the fuck?” Reaching over for his tee, he hands it to me. “Put that on, darlin’.”
“Who is that?” I ask, covering myself up as quickly as possible.
He just shakes his head, before walking to the edge of the clearing and shouting, “What the hell do you need, Round?”
I hear heavy footfalls hitting the ground, just before an older man steps into the clearing. He doesn’t even bother to look at me as he says, “It’s your dad.”
“What the fuck did he do now?” Boz asks, walking back to the blanket and shoving his boots back on. “You do know I’m not his keeper, right?”
The older man doesn’t answer, just turns around and starts back to the clubhouse. Over his shoulder he says, “Hurry the fuck up. He’s hurt bad.”
Leaving me without a word, Boz takes off at a run. I jump up, pull on my jeans and head after him, not even bothering with the rest of our stuff. As soon as I step into the clubhouse, I see Boz in my dad’s face.
When I get close enough, I hear Boz talking in a menacing whisper. “Who the fuck shot him?”
It’s at that moment, I see Boz’s dad lying on the floor, his vacant eyes staring at the ceiling. His chest is covered in blood, and there is no doubt in my mind that he has drawn his last breath. Unable to hold it back, my stomach revolts. Leaning forward, I heave today’s lunch onto the floor. One of the old ladies comes over and grabs my shoulders, pulling me into her arms. She leads me out of the room, away from the dead body.
Just as we step outside, I hear Boz shout, “I asked you a fucking question. Who shot my father?”
“I don’t know,” Dad says with a shake of his head. “He’s been running his mouth all damn night, putting his hands on the old ladies. You know this shit was bound to happen sooner or later.”
That’s the last I hear before I am jerked outside. Peeking at Boz just before the door closes, I see his eyes on me. From the look on his face, I can tell that any chance we had is gone.
_______________________
About Laura Kaye:
M.N. Forgy was raised in Missouri where she still lives with her family. She’s a soccer mom by day and a saucy writer by night. M.N. Forgy started writing at a young age but never took it seriously until years later, as a stay-at-home mom, she opened her laptop and started writing again. As a role model for her children, she felt she couldn’t live with the “what if” anymore and finally took a chance on her character’s story. So, with her glass of wine in hand and a stray Barbie sharing her seat, she continues to create and please her fans.
Kings rule men. Queens rule kings.
Saucy Southern Readers 