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BABY WITH THE SAVAGE: The Motor Saints MC by Naomi West (65)


Lena

 

I don’t know what has me letting Booster do this to me here.

 

Actually … I do. But that’s beside the point.

 

I let him take me on the desk. I don’t pay attention to whose classroom it is that I led us into, and I don’t really think it matters, either way. I’m enjoying this far too much to care, and the more this pleasure builds, the more I realize that I shouldn’t have run from it in the first place.

 

We cum together. It’s … intense, and blinding, and has me arching off the desk and clinging to Booster more than a little needy and wanting. It feels so good to be back here, having him in my arms and letting him have me like this. Especially now that the air has cleared between the two of us.

 

Panting, I lean up and kiss him. It’s deep—dare I say loving? The way that our lips caress each other. I want to stay here longer, go again, maybe even just lid here and enjoy each other’s company. There’s so much to talk about now—all the plans that I’ve made for the nursery, the help that I’ve been getting from my mother.

 

Booster looks like he’s going to say something. His mouth opens, but there’s a crack that comes from outside, like the sound of an engine backfiring. The two of us look at each other, and then towards the (thankfully) closed windows. Booster’s brow furrow and I realize that the sound, as it starts to rumble louder, is the sound of motorcycles thundering near.

 

Something nervous settles into the pit of my stomach as Booster pulls out and away from me. He situates himself back into his pants as he makes his way toward the window, peeking outside.

 

“What in the fuck?”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Booster doesn’t answer me, and the sound gets louder, followed by whooping and yelling. The nervous pit in my stomach starts to churn.

 

I don’t think that’s a good sign for anything.

 

I stand up, getting myself as put together as possible with my hair messed up and my panties and stockings messed up, too. I figure that I can dip out if I need to—tell Principal Walters that something came up, or that I had some sort of … business. If I haven’t been searched for yet, I doubt that it’s really at the top of anyone’s priority list.

 

The sound of a car alarm going off sounds off before I get to the window. Glass breaking follows and when I look outside, I see why.

 

There are a ton of men on bikes riding through the parking lot, going around in circles. Some of them have bats and two-by-fours; others are slinging around chains. The common theme is that they’re destroying everything in their path, and they’re wearing very recognizable leather jackets.

 

They’re all members of the Wylde Ones.

 

I look to Booster, horrified.

 

“You have to stop them!”

 

Booster says nothing, tearing himself from the window and bolting from the classroom. I’m quick on his heels, going into teacher mode.

 

I have to think about the kids.

 

As soon as we leave the classroom, I know that something worse is wrong. There’s yelling coming from the gym, and I pick up my pace, bolting past Booster. I push into the gym, and the sight that’s before me makes me stop, mouth wide open.

 

There are a ton of Wylde Ones in the gym, popping balloons, spray painting the gym halls. The kids are horrified, some running away and others actively trying to get the bikers to stop along with the teachers.

 

I go into action.

 

Immediately, I start ushering kids out of the gym, sending them in the direction of the school and not outside where there are certain more Wylde Ones looking to pick fights or whatever the fuck it is they all think they’re doing.

 

Why are they here? I can’t help but wonder. And why was Booster so caught off guard by their arrival?

 

The only comfort that can be had in this is that I can assume Booster didn’t know what they hell they were going to do. It’s only a small comfort, because he’s supposed to be in charge of them, and they’re obviously just doing what they want to do in this situation.

 

I lose Booster in the commotion. I have no idea where he is, only that there’s a lot of yelling from … quite literally everywhere. One of the Wylde Ones bumps into me, nearly knocking me down as I’m getting kids out of the gym. More of them begin to pour in from the outside, and the stray thought of finding Booster leaves me when I have a realization.

 

This could get violent. Quick. And I have a baby that I’m carrying. The first few weeks are so precarious …

 

I want to find Booster, but I know that if I stay here, I’m risking myself and our child. I’ll find him … eventually.

 

Making sure that there are no more kids in the gym, I bolt.

 

I hope Booster’s okay.

 

Booster

 

Lena bolts as soon as she realizes that there are a fuck ton of bikers in the gym harassing the students. I don’t blame her, but I wish that she had stayed close to me. The Wylde Ones are a rowdy bunch when they’re like this, in an unmonitored, uncontrolled crowd, and it’s at the forefront of my mind that she’s out there somewhere in the crowd with a bunch of my guys that aren’t paying attention to who they’re running into or who they’re fucking over.

 

The thought makes me livid.

 

“Hey, assholes, what the fuck are you doing? Chill the hell out!”

 

A couple people turn my way—but I’m ignored. I realize that I don’t look like myself, and I growl.

 

There’s more noise coming from outside. I’m not doing much in here, and there are already a decent sect of teachers getting kids out and handling the situation. Maybe I can get a handle on whatever the fuck is going on outside.

 

I attempt to gain control again, but it’s obvious that coming outside was a worse idea than staying inside. I’m not easily recognized in the darkness with how I’m dressed. I do much the same as I did inside, only to be met with a bunch of fucking laughing.

 

Eventually, though, I spot the culprit of this little interruption.

 

“Whooooo! Let’s show ’em, boys!”

 

Happy’s riding around the parking lot on his bike, with Pixie on the back. He’s got a bat in his hand like some of the other boys, and he’s swinging it wherever he pleases, knocking mirrors off of cars, and nearly hitting people that are running through the lot trying to get away or those that are trying to stop the insanity.

 

He’s the fucking ringleader.

 

I watch as he takes his bat to a few more cars, and see how closely he comes to hitting one of the fleeing high schoolers in the head with it. The narrow escape makes Happy whoop out in laughter, and it pulls out more from the boys—they honestly think that this shit is funny.

 

Blinding rage shoots through me. I was already pissed off by the fact that my boys were here without my permission, causing this kind of chaos without my say. But seeing that Happy is the person that’s in charge of making it happen? I’m ready to kill the bastard, and I’m tempted to yank him right off the back of his bike.

 

“Hap—”

 

His name is almost out of my mouth as I start walking towards him—until someone flies by on a bike. I see them from the corner of my eye, avoid getting hit by side-stepping them, and think that I’m in the clear.

 

I’m not.

 

Something hard hits my head, and shattering glass echoes in my ears. Starbursts flicker out in my eyes, and I feel the impending blackout as it creeps steadily into my head.

 

No … no …

 

Before I go down, I look in Happy’s direction. I swear there’s a smirk on his face when I do.