CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“It’s lucky you don’t want me for my garlic bread baking skills, Rider. It looks like coal.” - Zara.

 

 

 

     It began to snow that night and didn't stop for three days. On any other given point in time Zara would have revelled in the beauty of those fat flakes. But it so happened she was kept very busy under a lusty bad biker man for most the time so missed most of the seasonal weather that passed through Armado Springs.

      She didn't mind a bit, not even when her inner thighs protested from overuse. That same bad biker man had appetites she was working to sate. She didn't mind that, either.

      It was Thursday again. Zara felt raw inside. Seriously emotionally drained.

      She wanted to sleep and forget everything for a few days.

     Thursdays and Mondays were now her therapy days when she was driven into town to sit on a couch and pour her heart out to a middle-aged woman who was very nice but gave Zara the heebies with the informed way she looked at her, as if she could see all her dirt before she'd even tipped it out onto her professional floor.

      It was too early to tell if it was helping you're taking productive steps, baby. Rider had told her and he was right, one step at a time, one therapy sessions at a time she was slowly getting better, oh, please god she hoped she was.

      She didn’t want to be perfect, who was. But functional, not afraid of her own shadow, and if she could cope with her memories…

     She inhaled the cold air climbing down from Capone’s Jeep, waved her thanks as he drove off. He’d been her chaperone today; Rider had gone on a ride with his brothers. A ride meant he was up to something illegal he didn’t give her details to, just told her he’d see her tonight. As long as he came back safe she didn’t need or want to know what he was up to. Furthermore, he had a maniac like Hawk coasting at his back, who better to protect the president. In that respect, she trusted Hawk more than ever.

      To be entangled with an outlaw you accept all of them, not just the good and the right. It had only taken a few weeks for Zara to know she'd take those MC boys over the majority of the populace.

      And the Renegade Souls did do a lot of beneficial work for the community, some of the stories had her brows rising with surprise. When she’d asked Rider about it, he’d shrugged and said: You take care of your own first, baby. It was hopeless to stop herself from falling for him when his capacity for caring went deep.

      That bad outlaw had a great heart.

      Of all people to walk back into her life, it had been Rider.  Fate delivering her savior in the body of a six-foot badass who didn’t tolerate shit from anyone. Kind of perfect, she thought. Even if he was the juxtaposition of a white Knight. Zara preferred him in leather anyway.

      Zara was smiling when she let herself into the little house. And today she didn’t instinctively turn on every light. That was progress, or so Cathy, her therapist, would say.                

     Little steps.

      It had been session three today, the moment Zara had wished to avoid. Not because of shame, or disgust, but because Cathy wanted to delve into the only good and clean part of her life, it felt too private, something Zara wanted wholly for herself. She’d spewed everything about her capture, keeping it simple so Cathy wouldn’t inform the law, she thought Zara had been in an abusive relationship with Hades. Vomit.

      But all that was marginally tolerable to share than what Cathy wanted from her.

      She'd spoken candidly, as though she was recounting events from a script, distance from her own horrors, after all, she’d lived it for years, every bruise and mental torture she could report, a play in act III… and then the sweet middle-aged lady had smiled and taken a swerve in the conversation asking about her situation now, her new relationship and Zara felt her fingers tingle, her breath went shallow.

      She hadn’t wanted to discuss Rider. What has you hesitant about that? Cathy had asked.  

      Zara had blown ten minutes of her session thinking on that question. Why after everything was Rider her hard limit? It seemed stupid. He was her one good thing.

     Realization didn’t always have an invite when it came to the party, it didn’t even bring a bottle of wine, but boy, did it make itself known at the buffet table. In a short time, too short, some would undoubtedly accuse if asked for their opinion, Rider had become the eye of her storm, that anchor to grab hold of and bring her back to life.

      Sue her if she was protective of that, not willing to share intimate details with anyone else the genuine moments she had with him, even with sweet Cathy who smelled like soothing lavender and wore glasses on a chain around her neck.

      If she was lucky and she desperately needed a piece of that back in her life he was the man she wanted to walk beside for a very long time, if she began to talk about their relationship, to define it, to label it for what it was she was going to jinx it, she knew it.

      And with that awareness knocking on her psyche Zara had left her counseling session in somewhat of a daze, barely giving Capone two words.

      She was all about Rider and building something real, something true with him. Getting beyond the point of danger and high intensity, she wanted normal and forgiving, to build days and weeks with that man that didn't involve anything to do with the past three years.

      Don't jinx it.

      Zara was anxious of most everything these days, but losing what she had with Rider sent cold shivers down her spine.

      He’d given her the confidence tools, one day at a time, without her grasping that was what he was doing, almost as if putting a relationship in place for the day she knew what she desired.

      God. that man. Really. No wonder she was walking around with a smile while she dumped her coat on a hallway stool and began pulling out the fixings for dinner.

      She’d make him spaghetti and meatballs for when he got home, they’d talk about their days just like a regular normal couple would and when they went to bed and he’d inevitably pull Zara across the mattress to smash her body into his as close as he could get her, she’d take the initiative this time, and make love to him.

      Maybe she had been pulled and stretched like misshapen steel for such a long time that the Zara of old no longer existed. Stood at her biker man’s side she was the all new and improved Zara, a Zara she herself was still getting to know. However, she was now, Rider accepted her, wanted her, so it was wrong of her to try to deny them this if they could have a slice of happiness together.

     People keep trying until they get it right. The rinse and repeat of life. She was no exception, not if she wanted to be happy. She needed sooooo badly for this with Rider to be her right.

      It was an ache. A secret desire deep in the pit of her belly.

      The down and dirty right. Okay, she wanted that, too.

     Scary? Very. Uncharted waters and with a formidable guy. Zara sensed it was always going to be Rider, no matter what, no matter when, they’d simply lost their way to each other for a time, now their paths had merged again and scared or not, and she was plenty scared, she was damn well holding onto this.

      While her mind was busy, chopping onions, mixing a sauce in the large pan, she thought about it some more, maybe her next session with Cathy she’d open up and tell her how she met Rider.

Progress came in small compartments. One day it was not switching on a light to ward off the monsters in the dark, the next it was fully owning up to truths you buried.

      For right now it was making a gorgeous man and herself a plate of noodles and sauce. She hummed for an hour feeling content like never before. A strange odd feeling in her chest.

      The ring of her new cell phone jarred her from the kitchen tasks, she wiped her hands quickly on a towel and answered, smiling at the deep timber down the other end.

      “What time are you coming home? I’m making garlic bread. Though, it’s out of a packet I found buried in the back of the freezer so don’t get too excited and if I burn it you’ll have to pretend it came that way.”

     Rider’s laugh sent her soft inside.

      “Miss me?”

       Silence. Of course. Always. Every second we’re apart.  You’re becoming my world. She hesitated and he laughed again not fazed by it.

 

 

******

 

      There was something in the simplistic way Zara sucked in a breath that Rider fucking loved to hear.  As though everything Rider said surprised her into a blushing mess.

      Fucking love that. And then how her Icelandic blue eyes had been lighting up in his presence the last few days, yeah, he knew his girl was missing him, feeling him, wanting him.

     “Here’s what I want you to do for me, Icy, because I'm gettin' only one thing right now from the way your voice smiled when you knew it was me callin’, your body needs mine on top, inside, all over your warmth.  I’ma be on my bike in two minutes. It’s gonna take me twenty-five to get home. In that time, I want you wet and ready for me, because my cock is gonna be inside you the second I get near you, in a fuck-fest you haven't even seen yet but you're about to. Understand?  None of that pretty foreplay you like. I want you too much to wait.” on the other end of the phone, he heard her sharp inhale.

      Stick a motherfucking fork in him.

      That one breathy sound was enough to have his dick steel bat-hard ready to go to the plate and fuck for days.  It was bad enough he was in a constant state of arousal simply because his old lady existed without her breathing turning him on. “That means I want your fingers strokin’ your beautiful clit. Go get comfortable.” He listened to her move through the house. Anticipation jarring his gut. “Open your legs and slide your hand between them. I’m so fuckin’ strung out for you, no foreplay, baby. Want you soaked. I need to fuck you right now. Fuck you hard until you can't stand it.”

     Rider’s breathing roughened when he caught her gasping his name as if it was the most shocking thing he could ever say to her. In a lot of ways, his girl was still so innocent and he loved dirtying her up.

      She loved his filthy tongue when he groaned dirty things to her while he took her, or while she cooked food, or even when she read her books out loud in bed which she'd taken to doing lately. She loved his mouth, even more, when he was eating her for breakfast, lunch and fucking dinner.                  

      “You doin’ it, Zara? Lemme hear you before I ride and get home to you.”

      “Yes. Oh, God, yes. I’m wet and ready for you, Ambrosio. Hurry.” He could picture her relaxed on the couch, legs spread, her greedy fingers plowing rapidly against her clit to get her there. His girl was always hungry. His cock punched against his zipper, already long strides eating through the club, he needed home now. “But be safe. Drive safe. Oh, godddd..Ambrosio…”

      That did it.

      He was gonna break the land speed record and make it across town in ten minutes. Those annoying pissant Russians had put Rider in a shitty mood that solely thinking of Zara had stopped the carnage building behind his eyes.

      He didn’t have patience or mercy within him.

      With a somewhat practical accord with the mafia from the cold country, they’d sent one of their lesser ranked men to talk new deals with Rider without prior notice, he didn't like that. Didn't like that at all and he had a feeling the fucking Russians, now the Rebels were disbanded, wanted to shit in Rider's house. No. Fucking. Way. was he letting them step their feet in his territories.

      Fucks sake, he was going to be waist deep in their bullshit for days if they were looking for new ports of call in Colorado to bring their dirty money, Rider was not being tagged in to be their new Patsy, if his uncle still had the president's patch that shit-for-brains would have taken any deal to look like the big man on campus regardless if it was beneficial to the club as a whole, Nah, Uncle dearest had wanted status without any of the real commitment.

     Whenever the Russians wanted in bed with Rider then they better fluff the fuck out of those pillows first before his jeans hit the floor because he was not afraid of them or their mob connections, he'd been threatened by bigger uglier men and here he stood drawing in the good air, fuck them all.

      He just needed Zara like never before, his tongue glued to his mouth the entire ride home, pushing his bike to its limits, ignoring the speed laws.

      Zara was right where he’d predicted she’d be just like his sweet girl, on the couch, knees bent apart, bare feet not even touching the floor. Hand down the front of her sweatpants … fuck ... his dirty little baby, her head thrown back emitting the sexiest fucking moans he’d ever heard.

      Her beautiful flushed face. Jesus, he'd never seen anyone so goddamn pure beauty.

      This woman.

      The one right in front of him making keen moaning noises.

      He wanted her so fucking badly.

      All the time. She was a thirst in his throat, and goddamn, most of the time he thought he was stroking out, what with his heart thumping when she laughed. She made him work hard to get her smiles, so her laugh... fuck... golden.

       The click of the lock engaging the door sounded like a bomb going off. Rider was already shrugging out of his cut before he took a step into the room, tossing it to the nearest chair, for once not caring if it got stepped on, grabbing his shirt from the back and yanking it over his head, next he worked on his belt, the metal clanking like warning bells of what was to come as he animal-prowled across the room, her eyes were all over him,  and he loved it, loved that she wanted him this much she’d strummed herself to creamy wetness in her eager state waiting for him to get home.

     "That's my dirty Icy. Lemme taste your pleasure. Fingers here." he pointed to his mouth, folding down over her and with her face turning a deeper red she shyly pulled them from inside her pants and offered the wetness to him to suck clean. Fucking hell she teased those fingers onto his tongue, a sensual move, she tasted so good, he couldn't wait another second.

      Boots kicked off, he yanked her pants down. Rider didn't bother with anything else, strung the fuck out, his cock was freed, held in his tight fist, using the back of the couch to balance himself, he rested his forehead against Zara's, making sure his girl was giving him her gaze, to know what was coming, her breath fell over his face as he positioned and----- he shoved.  Oh, fuck, buried as deep as he could go their groans mingled. She was wet fucking heaven.

      And then Rider fucked his old lady how he'd wanted to all damn day.

      And when she came clenching hell out of him she arched her neck back and roared his name.

      He felt two hundred feet tall.

      Nowhere near finished with his Icy-girl, he kept pounding her, driving inside until he hit pubic bone, their sex was out of this world, nothing he'd ever had before, she'd bewitched him with the sweetest fucking pussy he'd ever slid inside, her cries were music he wanted to listen to forever, the way she grabbed at him, wanting his mouth, he laughed against her lips, licked over her tongue, moved in a sensual shift of his body arched over the couch. Nothing sounded better than the noises she made when he was between her thighs.

      “Move with me. You want it deeper, baby? You want it harder? tell me, say it. Tell your man to fuck you harder.”

      She made a starved noise that pooled blood to his cock. It was meant to have been a fast fuck, something to take the edge off, Zara settled his rage, her pussy had other ideas the moment it lock-jawed around his cock and Rider was happy to oblige by fucking her into oblivion.

     "Ambrosio ... please. I need it bad, please, fuck me harder, hard as you can."

      That did it. No horny man on this earth could ignore that starved request. He was only human. Sweat clung to his back.

     "Need you to come strong for me. Again, and again. Think you can?"

      Rider took her strangled whimper for yes.

      Shit got wild in his living room after that until he'd wrung a sweet number of red hot climaxes out of them both.

     Afterward, he stayed planted deep digging her walls twitch with spasms, watching her beautiful eyes glaze over. Waiting a minute until his breath came back, while Zara peppered kisses over his face he pulled out slowly, grunting as her pussy clenched wanting to keep him inside. My greedy Icy.

      Soon enough he'd be back shoved deep, that was a guarantee, now he’d got her in his bed again there was no stopping how he wanted to fuck her and be fucked by her, he wasn’t wasting their time. Some dumb bastard said you never got to bite the cherry twice, well Rider made his own rules, he had her back, he was keeping Zara pleasured as deep as she needed it, around the clock if wanted it constant.

      He was a total narcissistic pervert to get off at the sight of their wet pleasure coating the inside of her thighs, glistening on her pussy lips, a giant sign that he’d come, and come and come all over her. Using two fingers, Rider teased her slit open, coasting up to her tight little hooded clit, swollen from all his attention, she convulsed and relaxed into the couch letting go of a languid moan. Within a minute, he had her orgasming for him again.

      Lost in a haze of lust.

      He’d needed her so badly, a constant ache in his chest.

 

******

 

 

      Damn. How was it the biker man touched her and she just goes off like a well-controlled detonated bomb as though her body hadn't already experienced a pond full of orgasms. Nope, seemed her body was ready, willing and more than eager for him any time of day. Every single time she'd had sex with Rider in the last weeks it was the same, his hands and body all over her, she was his to do as he wanted, the dirtier the better, whatever he did she loved and begged for more.

      Breathing. Blinking. She was prepared to take him into her body.

      Zara was so well sated she couldn't even rouse a hint of embarrassment for the acts they'd just done together. Sticky and sore, she could only smile. Growth, Cathy, see.

     Boastful laughter rumbled in his big chest. She poked that massive torso when he collapsed down on top of her before rolling to sit at the side of her. He had a right to his swelled ego, she’d screamed loud enough to alert the police from six towns over. Jeez.

      Where Rider and his gorgeous as hell body was concerned, not to mention his cock that drove her insane, she was a weak, weak, famished woman.

      And lord, the sex had been insane. Consuming from start to finish beginning with that phone call that had twisted her insides into wicked knots.

       She hated to think of the mess they'd made of his couch.

      His hand reached out, grabbed her chin gently turning her towards him, kissed her once, twice, so softly her stomach rolled over with heat.

      “That was...” she had no adequate words. How did she tell him he’d rocked her world in numbers of multiple?

      Sex with Rider was out of this world.

      Out into space.

      Exceptionally addicting.

      Goddamn, if he had a milkshake she'd never leave his yard.

      But then he one-upped her. His voice reaching inside her belly this time and coaxing it into a long lovely terrifying spin.

      "You've stolen the fuckin' breath out of my soul, Icy. Straight up crazy for you. I hope you know that.  Don't ever want you to be scared again, see you frightened again. I will fight enough for the both of us until you trust me with that sweet heart of yours, because we have something worth fightin' for here. Believe I am here no matter what, I will slay all your fuckin' demons, crash through your walls without hesitation. I want you. I want us. Let me fight for us, Zara. Give me that, baby."

      Oh. Rider. Emotion rushed into her voice, locked her throat up. He couldn't have said anything more perfect, more meaningful to what she needed to hear.

     "Yes. Always yes. Rider… you leave me speechless." It was always a yes for Rider. Her answer was a croak. Face buried in his neck, his hand came up and circled her nape, stroking his thumb, keeping her against his side, nowhere else she wanted to be.

      Right here with Rider.

      Perfect.

      This feeling good thing he was pumping out of his pores was contagious as hell. She wanted to keep on feeling it.

      Lazily kissing Rider on the couch, recovering the fuck fest he'd rightly warned her of, was anything more perfect than this moment?

      She wanted to kiss him forever.

      To have those wicked lips take hers roughly, completely, until she could erase every bad decision and mistake that had made her hate herself. She wanted him to steal her breath in the same way he took her soul three years ago.

      Make me yours.

      Own me.

      She yearned for him to fucking own her body and soul.

     She trusts him, there's no man alive that she trusts more. He's the storm she wants to ride, the rain she craves to soak in. With his kiss, her self-preservation walls are crumbling brick by brick until she sees shards of light breaking through the darkness.

      He owns her heart already.

      That deep down to her soul feeling knowing there will never be anyone else.

      Just Rider.

     Moving languidly like he was made of entirely of water, he dropped a kiss on Zara's neck. Muscles rippled in his shoulders, stretched down his torso elongating it until dizziness swam, her eyes tracking every shift of his gorgeous hard toned body. She knew how he kept himself in shape, watched him at the club lifting weights, using the leg machine, pounding the treadmill. She mentally thanked each one of those machines for producing the man she was constantly salivating over, seriously, her addiction went deep for his body appreciation, her tongue practically lolling out even though she'd been had by him so hard in the last hour she was partially blind from the orgasms, she still admired him with a pervert’s vision.

      Obsessed with his body.

      He had no hang-ups about walking around naked, unlike Zara who discreetly reached down to the floor to pick up her shirt, slipping it over her head with quickness followed by her panties.

     "How did it go today?" Having never pushed her for details but always made a point to ask about her sessions she smiled, shifting by him to move down the hallway and into the kitchen, he followed and yanked open the fridge, she couldn’t help the palm she lay briefly on the center of his back while he was drinking directly from the orange juice carton.

     "Same old. I'm not cured yet, according to Cathy that's progress. I did grab a red lollipop from the waiting room. I think they're just on the receptionist's desk for kids, but I'm more screwed up than them so I reckoned I deserved a sucker."

      A smile began at one edge of his mouth as he wiped it with the back of his hand, tossing the carton back into the fridge, he leaned his shoulder up against like it a model.

     Butt-ass naked.

      His eyes were trained on her, hooded lids. Hot as hell.

     "All silver linings, baby. You need a hand with that?" he jutted a look to the pot she was stirring, with any luck saving the red sauce, if not they were eating grilled cheese tonight.

     Melted gooey cheese could never be wrong.

     "No, it's good." Zara was no Paula Deen even if she did worship the taste of real churned butter, but she loved cooking.

     "In that case, I'ma grab a shower, my old lady got me good and wet and sweaty."

     Amused eyes lifted to him.

     "Maybe if you weren't such a dirty biker man she wouldn't get you sweaty, did you consider that, Rider?"

      Flirting with her man while she stirred a pot of garlic and herb red sauce (from a jar…but she'd added her own oregano!)

      Yep, she wanted to hold on tight to feeling, to wrap it in her heart and never let go.

      It was normal and lovely.

      She ached to have normal.

      That sensation you get down in your bones when you can feel the ocean nearby. It rushes over you so slowly, touching your bones with anticipation of seeing that great vast water. That was how Rider made Zara feel. It was nothing gentle. But everything normal.  She became engulfed in sensation when he was around, wanting to drown in him until her lungs filled and she was fully submerged in what he offered to her.

     Smiling shyly over at him, even as he was prowling the length of the kitchen looking more predator than man, tanned from head to foot, his hair loose around his wide shoulders and that glorious sex between his legs, soft now, arousing to sweep her eyes over.

      Her mouth dried.

      Zara waited for him to kiss her, knew it was coming and lifted her face to taste him.

      “I’ll never refuse my old lady when she has a hand down the front of her pants rubbing her screams out for me, Icy. You should know that, even if I have to sweat in the process, whatever it takes to get the job done.” his grin was terribly wicked.

      The bad biker man making her turn vivid red. She laughed, nipped his jaw. "Go and shower, dinner won't be long."

      When he left, Zara hummed, luxuriating in the pleasure still dancing on the ends of her nerves, replaying the gorgeous and just how tenderly Rider treated her even when he was being rough and demanding. The sounds he made, god in heaven…nothing sexier, the commanding way he took charge and gave her exactly the number of orgasms he deemed his old lady needed. It was exquisite.

      And it was theirs.

      Zara hugged all those moments close to her heart.

      And then pulled the burned garlic bread out of the oven.