Biker Chicks: Volume 2 Page 9

  He shivered and his cock twitched. I licked the edge of his ear. He gulped and rubbed his eyes. “Where--” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Where are we? I wasn't paying attention when you brought me here.”

  Willing to play along, I gave him the address of the Grease Dragon Garage, the auto mechanic shop directly below the apartment I shared with my dad. The old man owned it and my brother and I worked for him.

  Tension drained out of his shoulders. “That's not very far from the office, and I keep spare work clothes at the gym.”

  Instantly sorry I'd answered, I purred at him, “How're you gonna get there, baby? I haven't touched your car yet.”

  He turned his head and brushed his lips against mine. “Would you give me a ride?”

  I still wanted him to call in sick. It had been so long since I had a good fuck partner that I didn't want to let go for five minutes. As soon as I had that thought, I sighed, disgusted with myself. Like I had so little self-esteem that I couldn't manage to handle the day without him. After the session last night, I knew he'd come back for more. A little insurance couldn’t hurt, though, right? “Only if you give me a ride first.”

  His brow shot up and a wicked grin spread across his face. “It'll have to be quick,” he murmured while the naughty Scotty I'd met yesterday came out to play.

  I squealed in surprise as he heaved me around with those thick muscles and big hands. Suddenly, I faced the wall with my ass in the air for him. Before I had a chance to do more than lift my head out of the pillow to avoid suffocating, he grabbed my thighs and clamped his mouth between my legs. His tongue swiped back and forth while his stubble scraped my thighs.

  The shock of his attack kept me from thinking. “Fuck me hard, Scotty,” I gasped. “Hard and fast.” I already knew he gave great foreplay, but I wanted to be pounded into submission. Now. Besides, I could see his cock and couldn’t reach it.

  When I'd asked for that before, he'd made me wait. This time, he let go with his mouth and rose to his knees right away. He angled my hips and thrust inside me, hard enough to make me grunt. When he pulled out, he surprised me with how swiftly he shifted to pumping in and out. His hips slapped against my ass, driving me into the bed so hard I had to brace against the wall with both arms. Already hot enough to burn, my core bubbled, closer to boiling over with every frantic stroke.

  “Angelfish,” he groaned. “Amazing.”

  As much as I wanted to goad him on, I only managed to whimper into the sheets. Him remembering my name after we'd met less than twenty-four hours ago tripped a lot of switches for me. His fingers digging into my flesh added a tiny jolt of pain, enough to push me over the edge. Intense heat washed over me in a wave. I let out a hoarse, ragged cry, chased by another as he came.

  We collapsed together onto the bed, panting and groaning.

  He took a deep breath and let it out onto my neck. “I really like it when you say 'fuck', Angelfish.”

  I grinned and rubbed my ass against him. “I like the way you ride, Scotty.”

  “I'd like nothing more than to lie here with you for a while, but I need to get to work.” He rolled off me, letting his hand slide across my back. It rested on my hip, over the angelfish tattoo on my right side. I had the feeling he wanted to ask about my name, but he gave me a light squeeze and slipped away to grab his clothes.

  Too satisfied to complain much, I took the hint and got moving. When he glanced at me in the middle of pulling a pair of blue satin panties out of my drawer, he couldn't tear his eyes away. Knowing he had never been able to watch Bridget, I took my time pulling on my undies and jeans, waggled my hips, and chose a tight babydoll for a shirt without bothering to wear a bra. He had a hard time getting his suit pants on. I led him out and up the hall.

  “Morning, Angelfish.” Dad sat at the kitchen table, reading the paper and eating a bowl of cereal. Paused with the filled spoon halfway to his mouth, he smirked. “Prescott.”

  I waltzed in and patted my dad on the shoulder. “I'm taking him to work.” Grabbing an apple, I turned to see Prescott standing in the doorway, blushing and trying to cover his crotch with both hands without being obvious about it. I couldn't help but grin and toss the apple to him. He fell all over himself trying to catch it. For myself, I snatched up a banana and peeled it. “We might go for a long ride later.”

  Dad chuckled. “You should take him out to Cooper's Point. Good place to screw around.”

  Prescott's mouth opened and shut like a pretty fish. I loved how he did that. His ears turned pink.

  “Good idea.” Because I had a banana, and my dad had expectations, I licked a line up the fruit and pushed the tip into my mouth.

  His eyes drawn by me, Prescott blinked, then he mumbled something incoherent and darted out the front door.

  Dad and I laughed. “Poor guy,” Dad said with a shake of his head. “Give him a few weeks and he'll play along, I bet.”

  “We'll see. He might not last that long.” Looking at the front door, I thought about that. Yesterday, I'd brought him in with a promise of no commitment. This morning, I wanted him to stay for as long as I could keep him. I definitely liked fucking him, and Fridget's training over him needed to be broken. I couldn’t knowingly let a guy walk around with a leash around his neck. Especially one with abs and a sense of bedroom adventure like his.

  “Ease back on embarrassing him and he's more likely to survive you.”

  Tossing the banana peel in the compost bin, I grinned. “I'll take care of his car.”

  “Damned right, you will. Combo ordered the filter it needs already. Should be here in a few days. Make sure he pays for it with actual money. We aren't a charity here.”

  “Yes, Dad.” I kissed him on the top of the head. “Do you mind if he borrows your armor and lid?”

  “Go ahead.” He waved to shoo me out. “If you plan on keeping him around, though, have him get his own.”

  “See you later.” I grabbed our riding jackets--both emblazoned with patches of the garage's dragon logo on the back--on the way out and shrugged into mine. Prescott sat on the bottom step, eating his apple and staring at nothing. He looked up at the sound of the door and I saw his shoulders relax. When I reached him, he gulped. “Is your dad going to kill me?”

  “Maybe with the force of his aftershave.” Draping the jacket over him, I smirked.

  Prescott lifted the collar and sniffed it. “Smells like leather,” he said with a shrug. Of course it did. Dad hadn't ridden in years. “It's just that Bridget's dad bristles anytime he sees or hears anything to suggest--”

  “My dad's not like that. He's more concerned about me being happy and having a good time. You don't have to be scared of him.”

  He stood and slipped the jacket on. “If you say so.” The coat hit him high in the waist and short in the sleeves, but the shoulders and chest were fine. “I thought bikers wore vests, not jackets.”

  “Usually both, so far as I know.” Taking his hand, I led him to my bike. “Some guys like a lesser helmet, but since we generally ride on bikes made custom from used parts, we're more careful.”

  My baby--a chopper I'd built myself--rested in the space where I'd left it yesterday and I had Prescott wait with it while I ran into the garage office and grabbed my dad's helmet. Unlike my plain black one, he'd decorated his with fire-breathing dragon stickers.

  Prescott took the helmet and looked it over, his face pensive. “When you say 'we', do you mean you're part of a biker gang?”

  I raised an eyebrow and had a pretty good idea what he thought he meant. “Everybody who works at the garage is family, either by blood or choice. We fix cars and trucks to pay the bills. We build, fix, and ride bikes for fun. Nobody here does anything illegal that I know of, and we do a Santa thing at Christmas for a community center. It’s in the part of town you and Bridget probably only wind up in by accident and lock the doors to drive through.”

  He frowned and looked away. “Probably.”

  Watching him sort
through too many emotions for me to pick anything out, I wondered how much we really had in common. He'd been sheltered for so long that he needed to see more of real life before either of us could make real decisions about this thing between us. “I wouldn't call it a gang. More like a family. C'mon, let's get you to the gym so you can clean up for work. Bitch sits in the back.”

  “Wouldn't that...be you?”

  I barked a laugh as I straddled the bike. “Pretty sure you've already tried it that way with Bridget. How'd that work out for ya?”

  He gave me a small smile and slipped the helmet on, then climbed on behind me. I put my own helmet on, turned the key, and took him for a ride.

  ***

  We stopped at his gym, a chromed place with shiny minivans and sports cars in the lot, where he dashed in and came out squeaky-clean twenty minutes later. He'd changed into black jeans with an emerald green polo shirt and black shoes, and he'd fixed his hair. His work turned out to be on the next street over. I was curious and he didn't object, so I left the bike at the gym and walked with him.

  A cop cruiser sat on the street in front of the sleek high-rise. Prescott held the door for me, a gesture I appreciated with a smile. When I caught his eye, he seemed surprised I would notice. I wanted to punch the Ice Queen in the face again for teaching him to be surprised by gratitude.

  We took the elevator to the sixth floor. The doors opened into a small waiting area for IT Solutions Incorporated. Beyond the glass doors, a uniformed cop talked to a woman near my age behind a fancy desk. Both turned to look and the receptionist seemed pleased and relieved to see Prescott.

  “That's him right there,” the receptionist said, pointing to Prescott as he stepped through the automatic glass doors.

  The cop looked Prescott up and down, then flicked his eyes to me. “Prescott Anderson?”

  “Yes, officer.” Prescott offered his hand to shake with the cop. “How can I help you?” He struck me as oddly confident in the situation.

  “Miss Bridget Winter reported you missing when you didn't turn up at home last night.”

  “Ah.” Prescott sighed. I wanted to kick Bridget. “I had some car trouble and my phone isn't working.” His lie caught me by surprise and I blinked. Prescott had another side to him, one I'd thought only came out in my bedroom. No wonder he didn't want to quit his job. This place gave him confidence.

  The cop nodded, then he glanced at me again. “And who's this?”

  “His ride,” I blurted out. Pink spread on Prescott's cheeks. “Ah, I mean, complimentary ride service from the garage taking care of his car.”

  When the cop looked from me to Prescott and back, he raised an eyebrow and I figured he could do the math. “I see. Well, you don't seem kidnapped or murdered to me, Mr. Anderson. I'll cancel the missing persons and take care of that. Probably best if you let Ms. Winter know you're fine.”

  Prescott coughed. “Yes, officer. Thank you. Sorry to be trouble.”

  All three of us watched the cop go punch the button for the elevator. As soon as the glass doors shut behind him, Prescott leaned closer to the receptionist. “Is Bridget here?”

  “No. She has called five times this morning, though. After leaving you four voicemail messages, she asked me to take this one personally.” The receptionist handed him a post-it note.

  Taking the note, Prescott sighed. He read it, folded it half, and stuck it in his pocket. “This is Angelfish. I'm just going to give her the quick tour.”

  “No problem.” The receptionist gave me a polite smile.

  I stepped up to the desk and finally could read her engraved name tag. “Hey, Vickie. Nice to meet you. Would you call him if Bridget does happen to show up? Like, before she gets to his desk.” Though I didn't plan to stick around all day, the least I could do is make sure he got notice if she turned up.

  “That's probably a good idea, yeah,” Prescott agreed.

  “Sure thing,” Vickie said. “She'd need an escort anyway. Enjoy your tour.”

  Prescott took my arm and walked me past her desk. We plunged into a blue-walled cubicle jungle with fluorescent lights overhead, a type of place I'd heard of and seen on TV, but never thought was real. He waved to people on the way. I gawked, stunned that human beings willingly chose to work in this sort of hellhole. After only five minutes here, I already felt stifled. Once again, I looked at Prescott, who seemed to thrive here, and wondered if we really had a chance together.

  He stopped at a cubicle on the other side of the large room. Two leafy plants in plain green pots sat on the wall-mounted desk beside a flat, plastic tray and a phone. On the other side of his computer monitor, keyboard, and mouse, a robot statuette held up a line of books with titles full of words that made no sense to me but probably related to computers or math. Small posters tacked on the walls depicted comic book characters, and a handful of action figures had been arranged in poses that probably made sense to geeks. A framed picture of a gorgeous blonde batting her eyes at the camera had been placed as far from the monitor as possible.

  “Is that Bridget?” I pointed to the photo as he grabbed the rolling chair and dropped into it. I definitely needed to send Combo over to deal with her. He'd be all over that.

  “Yeah.” He picked up the frame and frowned at her picture.

  “She's pretty.”

  He shrugged. “Only on the outside.”

  I grinned. “You want me to blow you here or in the closet?”

  “What?” His head snapped back so he could look up at me.

  Wearing my best innocent smile, I said, “I'll come back to grab you for lunch.” I snatched the frame out of his hands, flipped the back open, and ripped the picture out. Prescott winced while I tore it into little pieces and dumped them in the trash.

  He took the frame back and put it into a drawer. “Yeah. Noon.” Turning away from me, he started up his computer and I knew his job had just sucked his brain away.

  I checked all around. The cubicle across from his had a dumpy geek guy hunched over his keyboard, oblivious to the world around him. He probably wouldn't notice anything short of an explosion happening. The nearby offices surrounding the cubicles all had closed doors. I'd never worked in an office, so I didn't know for sure how things worked, but since every cube had a phone, I figured people called each other rather than bothering to get up and go talk to anyone.

  After taking one last quick glance around, I crouched down and crawled under his desk. I expected him to notice right away, but he didn't say a word or look away from his screen until I reached up and stuck my hand on his crotch.

  He squeaked in surprise and stared at me, his mouth hanging open while I groped him. His cheeks flushed pink and his mouth moved, but he failed to come up with actual words. I shushed him with a finger to my lips and winked.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered.

  With my help, his cock stiffened in his jeans. “Isn't that obvious?” I popped the button and unzipped his fly.

  “My boss could walk in any second,” he hissed.

  I already knew that. Hearing him confirm it sent a thrill down my spine. Maybe he saw that in my eyes, because he gulped.

  “Better be quiet and pretend to work, then,” I growled. Curling up in front of him, I stuck my hand through the front hole of his boxers and grabbed his eager cock.

  He sat straight up and leaned forward so I couldn't see his face anymore, leaving me flying blind. To my delight, he scooted to the edge of his chair and spread his legs, giving me easier access. I gave him two good pumps up and down before blowing a hot, moist puff of breath down his shaft.

  Out of sight, he coughed and cleared his throat. Grinning at his predicament, I gripped the base of him and swirled my tongue over his tip. Chattering voices approached and he tensed. Heat built in my core, the thrill of being caught making me want to drag him off to the bathroom or a closet for a full-frontal fuck.

  I clamped my lips over his erection and sucked him in. He gasped. The voices grew louder. His leg
s pushed on my shoulders. I slid my tongue back and forth and listened. As much as I wanted to shut everything out and fuck him with my mouth, I had to pay attention.

  “Hey, Prescott.” I froze at the woman's voice. She sounded offhand and I suspected she might not be paying him a huge amount of attention. “Are you going to make the deadline next week with your modules?”

  “Ah, yes. I'm on it.” He paused, his words precise. “I should make that deadline with time to spare.”

  “Good deal. “ She paused. “Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”

  My heart raced, certain this woman would move in closer and notice me.

  “No, I'm good,” Prescott said. How he managed to keep a steady voice, I had no idea. My toy deserved to be rewarded for his hard work. “Stopped at the gym. Right before work.”

  “Ah. Don't work yourself too hard! Oh, and don't forget there's a meeting at one this afternoon.”

  “Right. I'm coming.”

  Only the knowledge I'd get him fired kept me from laughing out loud at the crass joke his boss wouldn't get.

  “See you there.” The woman stopped talking, then I heard her address someone else nearby and start the same conversation again.

  Before Prescott could try to make me stop, I cranked up my efforts. He let out a tiny whimpering groan and gripped the arms of his chair until his knuckles turned white. His hot, salty cum shot into my mouth as I pulled back and I hurried to catch it all and swallow it down. We didn't have a towel handy.

  Figuring he wouldn't be able to handle the job himself for a bit, I stuffed him back into his jeans and zipped him up. Though I tingled all over from the rush of almost getting caught and wanted to get off right now, I knew it wouldn't happen. Worse things had happened than me being forced to wait a few hours.

  Prescott pulled his chair back and bent to see me, exasperated and satisfied at the same time. “You almost just got me fired,” he whispered.