CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

"Sometimes toast just won't cut it for breakfast, Icy. Want between your legs." – Rider

 

 

 

       As with most things, Zara’s life settled into a new routine. The sun rose and fell over the club, days ticked by one by one.  Normalcy seemed to happen really quickly for the men once the lockdown was called off, like raiding and killing had never occurred just a few weeks ago. Some club boys left to go on several days’ worth of runs out of town, not entirely sure where they went or why, but they usually came back full of boasted stories and pleased with whatever had transpired.

      Zara was in that weird medium of the before and the after. Unsure what she was doing with her life, she knew one thing; she was using Rider as a buffer between herself and everything else.

      She had still to call her parents.

Needing to decide what to do with her life again she simply avoided by having as much sex as she could with the president. She didn't know how she'd fallen into that pattern, only acknowledged she was doing it.

      Hiding was an ugly annoying word.

      She was determined to get a life and soon.

      The only thing Zara had right, she thought, was the urges she felt towards Rider.

      "Oh…ohh.. Jesus... please, Rider. I need it."

      His fingers went in mercilessly deep, the stroking drove her mad, he curled them as if he meant to drag the orgasm out of her by any means necessary, only she really felt it when he touched his tongue tip to the hood of her clit, his fingers never stopped moving, in ... out ... deep ... around ... he gave her one long lick, not at all polite, it was a hard, obscene, fierce lick, growling the entire time. He licked her again and again, sucking her clit against his tongue.

      Oh god. Yes. I want this so bad.

      The sight of Rider with his bare bronzed shoulders, one covered in colorful ink, popped muscle beneath the skin, hunched against her spread thighs, his head moving so he could deepen the intimate kiss sending shards of pleasure to where it's needed, Zara arched her back, braced her foot to the counter and as his two fingers punched into soft soaked tissue she cried out his name. Cries that were throaty and agonized like an animal, she was so far beyond caring if anyone heard her, she had lost touch with reality.

      It was only this way with Rider.

      How he made her feel.

      She could easily lay there and let him possess her, to be his thing forever.

       "Again."

       Zara lifted her heavy head, blinked through the haze.

      Was he crazy? She panted looking down at him. No way she could do that again so soon. She'd die. The orgasm had been powerful enough she was still feeling it shudder in strong ripples while he petted and stroked her slowly.

      And she told him so. "Rider, honey, I don't think I can do that ever again. Let me take care of you now."

      His face gradually moved in, drawing closer and closer as his gaze focused on her lips then up to her eyes.

     Smiling. Smoldering. Gorgeous.

     Zara's heart was beating like crazy and her stomach was clenched tight in that way only he made her feel, anticipating his next move.

      She wanted so many again's she was stunned by the number.

      Everything. 

      That's what she craved.

     "Again, baby." To prove he was in charge, his longest middle finger caressed into her and touched her G-spot, the place that had her jackknifing almost toppling off the counter, to save herself she wrapped her other leg over his shoulder and he used his palms on her butt to drag her closer to the edge giving him full access to her pussy.

      She said words like pussy now. He wouldn’t touch her until she spoke them, asked for what she wanted.

      Touch me, Rider. Put your mouth on me, please.

      Put my mouth where, Icy? Say it, make me harder.

      My pussy, Ambrosio. Fuck my pussy.

      His dirty way of speaking turned her on until she thought she might come simply from him telling her he loved how her pussy tasted.

     "Can't get enough of you down my throat." He whispered against her wetness, tongue slowly lapping. Oh, sweet Cinderella. Zara lost her mind.

      If anyone walked into the kitchen right then they'd see their president straddled on a tall bar stool with his girl's legs braced around his shoulders while she gripped the toaster, moaning his name and receiving the best head of her life while he groaned how fucking sopping and sweet she tasted.

      She didn't care who heard her cries of pleasure as she did go over for him again. And then once more.

      He was such a smug arrogant bastard licking his lips afterward, rising to his full height in a languid move then he helped her down, kissing her with the taste of herself on his lips. He sucked so long on her tongue she swayed dizzily.

      This man was a sure addiction.

      What did she need to think about life while she was having incredible sex with him? She was proof a woman could live on orgasms alone.

      Zara's legs were jelly, she listed to the side leaning heavily into him. Managing to slip back into his long black shirt that had been tossed to the floor when he’d decided instead of eggs for breakfast that morning he was going to eat her until she cried mercy, she let the shirt fall to her thighs the same time she could hear voices in the common room, people had begun to stir though it was still relatively early.

      Her eyes flared. Oh, shit. Shit!

      With lightning speed, she grabbed a package of Clorox wipes from where they were kept beneath the sink, wiping the chrome counter from one end to the other with vigorous frantic motions, her head going to the door every few seconds, making sure to give it an extra scrub over by the toaster. That poor abused toaster.

      Catching Rider’s wicked chuckle, she sent him a vicious glare. How was he so calm right now, like people were going to walk in any second and know they’d fucked on every counter! He was leaning up against the table, bare feet crossed, jeans zipped but not buttoned.

      Sexy as a God. 

      A chest so wide it would take her a week to cross it with kisses. When she watched him lick the corner of his mouth her belly clenched over the dangerous sexuality of the gesture.

Smugness all over his face. He was a man who had got what he wanted.

      The moment of staring went on forever.

      "What the fuck you doin’, Icy?"

      "What does it look like! We just had sex on this counter!" As if it explained. Duh. Her voice was hushed, desperate to finish wiping it down before anyone came in, saw her red face and guessed exactly what Rider had wanted for his breakfast

     "I know. I was right there with you. And?"

      My god he was dense. "People eat here. I don't want them to have my ---"

     "Your sweet fuckin' juices." he supplied for her when he saw she was struggling. His lips twitched amused.

     "Ugh!" she kept scrubbing as he laughed until the countertops gleamed her reflection.

Rider caught her around the waist, drawing her into his body, her arm instinctively wrapped around his waist, snuggling in, hiding her face. Shy after sex, as though the orgasms allowed her hedonistic side to be as wild and noisy as she liked, but retreated once the pleasure waned.

      It made it equally frustrating when Rider never once showed the same signs. He was long and loose, his body so warm she could have burrowed there for a while, and he didn't care when his boys began piling into the kitchen seemingly not caring their president was there half naked with his half naked girl either, his eyes were just for her.

      She turned her face into his chest really wanting to escape.

     "Hey." he used a finger to tip up her chin. Meeting his gaze, she was punched with feelings, "you were fuckin' beautiful, Icy." He spoke for her ears only, and kissed her once, twice, and then deeper, she fell into it by opening her lips, stroking his tongue until ----

     "Yo, Prez, if we're getting a show at least wait until I make my bacon and can get comfortable, I mean she got some pipes on her, we all just heard, so we gotta have snacks for this."

      Rider laughed but told Preacher to shut his damn mouth. Zara used the moment to escape back to her room. Red as a cherry.

      He called her beautiful.  Feminists would mutiny, but she thought it was the nicest thing she'd ever heard.

      Their lives might run in opposing directions, but with sex, they were on the same page, the same sentence every time.

      It's the deepest of heavens

      She smiled for the rest of the day.

 

 

      Zara daydreamed about her morning most of the day, knowing she was getting herself in deep with the president. That wasn't what bothered her so much. But most of all she cursed how intensely aware of him she was. Wherever he is, she could feel it radiating through her skin, down to the bone, almost as if her body recognized who had touched her so intimately.                 

     Throughout the day, working and eating lunch, she shared glances with Rider while he went about his own duties, her body thrummed each time.

      She lied skilfully to herself it was the danger of the situation, some modern-day Stockholm syndrome going on. The mindfuck of him coming back into her life from out of nowhere, being her dark knight when all hope was lost. She's grateful.

      But it's more than that. She knew it. Felt it. Acknowledged it.

      Not only was the Souls president cocky as a man could be, he acted like a predator around her like he'd pissed a circle to ward off other animals for even daring to look at his property —of course, she'd be aware of him. The prey is always acutely aware of the predator in the wild.

      Did it make Rider any different than Hades had been? No brainer. Polar opposite. She wanted Rider with a hunger she couldn’t quite put into words. Her hormones wanted him.                

      Her heart wanted him.

      She was intensely attracted to Rider, more than she'd ever been, that’s what made it distinct between them. He didn't hurt her, that was different. He didn't bully her, or force her.

      He cajoled with straight shooting talk and a sexy wink in her direction; He wanted her and wasn't afraid to tell her plainly in words she would understand. I wanna fuck you until you pass out, Icy, with my cock buried so deep and hard that when you wake you start ridin’ me even before you’re fully awake because you’re so desperate for it, so greedy for my cock you keep me goin’ even when you drain me raw. My girl is a savage for my cock, then I’ll hold you all night while you recover from the pleasure. Now that was as straight talking as it came.

      Nothing about Rider said he was in any way like Hades had been. Added in he persuaded her with kindness and lust, so must lust she lost her mind a little every time he eye-fucked through her clothes, a hot caress of blue and badness.

      As days had gone by he, little by little, in the subtle and not so subtle president ways continued to show her not all predators wanted to gulp you down, to overpower with their strength. Some predators simply wanted to fuck your brains out and own you as you stood right by their side.

      Daaaamn. Every time she let it digest it stole her breath.

It brought comfort to her hectic brain.

       If she was delusional she'd think he was sweet.

      But there was nothing sweet about that bad man.

      Maybe his tongue when it's inside me. She amended.

     “Something’s got you smiling Z-girl. It suits you. ” Preacher announced out of nowhere. The man was huge as a tree trunk but could appear as if he’d misted from thin air.

      A biker by day, phantom by night.

      She flinched mechanically, noticed he caught it and frowned moving back a step, then she smiled shy and apologetically up at him when her nervous system returned to normal, meeting the dark twinkle in his knowing eyes.  They’d all started calling her Z-girl a few days back. She’d asked Rider what it was about, he’d just smiled and told her his boys had accepted her if she had a nickname. It was a biker thing.

      She was accepted by all those rough men, not because they wanted to use her body for carnal kicks or a punching bag, but because she was Rider’s. Or even that they might just like her for herself. It warmed her. She was Z-girl of the Renegade Souls now.

      “Just coming to some decisions,” she answered and left it vague. He grunted and walked off. In fact, she had come to a real honest to god decision, her first one in weeks, months, years and damn, and she was feeling excited to share it. Life began here.

      She was scared knowing she’d have to step out from under Rider’s wing. But it was time. She caught up with him an hour later and told him her plans.

      “Say what?” his voice unnaturally quiet. Eyes probed Zara until she scowled. 

      What? From the scowl etched on his handsome face she’d warrant she’d told him she wanted to do the cha-cha with one of his brothers. “Run that by me again, Icy,” he demanded in a low voice.

      “I think it’s time I moved out of here and found my own place. In fact, I’ve been doing some research on the computer, and there are a couple of apartments above a convenience store in town I may be able to afford now. I thought maybe----”

      “You wanna leave?”

      “Well. Yeah.” she blinked confused at his reaction. She'd expected enthusiasm, encouragement, not a fierce glare.  “Staying at your club was never a permanent fixture, Rider. Just until I got on my feet again.”

      “Why, what’s wrong with the club? I thought you were happy here.”

      Ut oh. Somewhere from the door to her mouth opening Zara had stepped on a Rider minefield. She didn’t know how or why, but there it was staining his rigid face. Reaching out briefly, she touched the sleeve of his white Henley shirt.

     “Rider. I’ve taken too much from the club already and----”

      “Hold up, babe. Did I say you’d taken too much?”

      “No, you haven’t, but----”

      “No, I haven’t. So, I ask again, you wanna leave?”

      Zara blinked, and left wondering where this combatant tone was coming from. Did he really think she wanted to live in a motorcycle club forever? It wasn't a practical solution long term.  It didn’t even have real rooms, their bedroom was tiny with barely any furniture, and if she had to sleep on the twin bed for much longer her back was going to require a brace, most mornings Rider was sprawled on top of her crushing her into the mattress.

      “It’s not like that. I love my job, Rider, it’s fun helping you guys, really. And I want to keep it. Nothing will change, only I won’t be sleeping here every single night. I thought you’d be happy.” her voice trailed off because his look could strip paint.  Frowning, she inhaled slowly. “Look I…we could see those apartments together sometime today before they go…I’d like your input, Rider.”

     “Fine.” his voice final. His jaw tight, a tic working the muscle.

Maybe she should have rented an apartment first before telling him. Too late now. “You wanna leave the clubhouse? Fine. Not a shitty one room place, Icy. I know somewhere, and it’s cheap. Come on.”

     “Wait! Just like that? Right now? Where is it? Hold up, Rider!” he’d already strode out of the office, she jogged to keep up.

      What was his problem? He had more face than a clock. Jeez.

      A long bike ride later he pulled his motorcycle into a driveway, parking in front of a red bricked house with a quaint white painted porch that had five steps leading up to the front door.

      She stepped down from his bike, looked around at the new surroundings. The street was quiet, with houses dotted here and there, not so close that you'd be able to peep on the neighbors. It looked like one of those gated communities in the suburbs. And excuse her but waaaaay out of her price range. She couldn't afford a damn house let alone one in a nice area. She’d budgeted for a one bedroom apartment.

     “Where are we?” she asked.

Rider caught her hand, lacing her fingers through his and led her up the steps, using a key he let them in, flipping on a light as if he knew exactly where the switch was in the hallway.

     “Welcome home, Icy. You want your own place. Well, here it is.” And with that he dropped the key in her palm.