CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

“Got my girl and a quart of ice cream. Dirty wicked things will happen, baby. “ – Rider

 

 

 

      Nothing put pressure on a president and his club like the sudden death of one of his own. Rider was feeling it creak through his every bone, his head pounding right at the temples.

      Poor fucking Tiny. He hated it.

      His face was lined with fatigue, how long had it been since he'd properly slept now? days, too much to oversee, but his eyes were sharp as they zeroed in on Zara. His Icy had been avoiding him and he didn't like that one damn bit. He didn't even think she was doing it deliberately, they were in a good place, or so he thought, maybe not if she wasn't going out of her way to see him when they were in the same damn place at the same damn time. She probably thought she was giving him space, but it was the last thing he wanted.

      She'd had one helluva showdown with the club's groupies, his boys in awe of her gumption, he'd been proud-as-fuck watching her blaze glory, standing her ground as his woman exerting her authority as he'd known she'd have to do, he'd wanted to jump in when it looked like Shandi was about to give her a mouthful, but bitches recognized royalty and Zara was his queen in every way it mattered. Since then, though, through meetings and attending Tiny's memorial with the close family and a whole procession of club members showing off their colors and patches riding through the town, she'd kept to herself, on the fringes.

      Oh, he saw plenty of her, she brought him and his boys food, beers and coffee, took away the empty plates, kissed his forehead, asked if he was okay, but for three nights now while the lockdown was in place waiting for the other shoe to drop from Hades, she'd been asleep long before he hit the bed.

      He fucking missed her.

     Prowling forward he ignored the speculative glances and raised brows from his men. He was too tired for conversations, he wanted one thing only.

     "Come on." He told her catching hold of her hand.

     "Hold up, honey. Where are we going?"

     "Home."

     "I thought we were staying here tonight, Is the lockdown over?" Rider inhaled hard, was it too much to ask for her to follow him blindly without being interrogated. Dammit, he was the president, and as his girl, she was supposed to worship him like a Greek god. His blue eyes darkened as he turned to face her. Patience, not his strongest suit. Her face so soft and lovely and free of any makeup gazing up at him without anything other than confusion.

      She was right, he had said they were at the club tonight. Ever since Tiny was killed he'd been jumpy as a stray dog, knowing well enough it was the first but not the last message to be delivered in a brutal way, the message clearly saying Hades could get to his people any time he wanted. Plus, now Rider was overly cautious because Zara was in the middle of the danger. Nothing would hurt his girl again.

      His accent slipped back into his natural Texan when he was tired, his voice drawled with his answer.

     "I want home and I want you, Zara. You're with the president, means you're safe. Come on, let’s ride." Maybe it was how he said it, she smiled up at him, nodded and threaded her fingers through his giving them a little squeeze.

     "Sure, Rider. Let's go home, let me grab my things really quick, I left it in the office, and say my goodbyes, you need a coat, too, it's cold out. Wait by the door for me."

      Thank fuck. He was motoring by on little energy, getting into a needless spat with his old lady was not high on his list. Passing the time while he waited for her to grab her shit, he leaned his shoulder in the doorway, watched the rain fall in soaked sheets, no word from Grinder yet on if he'd established any news about Hades.  It wasn't looking good. Rider didn't like that, the sooner that irritant was out of the picture the better for everyone, his girl and club included.

 

******

 

 

      Something was eating at Rider. He was quiet, so much quieter than her usual smartass wise-cracking man. Sure, the funeral had laid a morose mood on everyone, but then they'd held a party in Tiny's honor, more like an orgy, my god, Zara had stayed out of the way, but it had seemed to lift everyone's spirits. Rider, however, was gloomy and she didn't know why.  She'd clung to his waist on the ride home, he'd laid a palm over her locked fingers every now and then reassuring her, keeping them connected, she smiled against his spine breathing him in, she loved being on the back of his bike behind him, a powerful man in complete control of the powerful purring beast beneath them. When they'd pulled into the driveway Rider waited until she'd climbed down off his Harley before throwing his leg off and standing at his staggering height, setting his bike right there. Holding her hand up the pathway towards the door, still, he didn't speak. She gave him long sideways glances, gnawing at her lip.

      "I can make some food. Pasta would be quick, you hardly ate a thing today Rider." Maybe after that, they could watch a movie, get back into a regular routine.

      He gave a noncommittal grunt.

      They stepped into the dark house, he clipped on a hall light. She'd make him pasta and insist her got a good night's sleep if only so he could----- omph. Out of nowhere, he'd kicked the door shut, rounded on Zara and bodily lifted her under the armpits, throwing her up against the wall using his entire hard body to keep her there. What choice did she have but to wrap her limbs around that long lean body and consent to her mouth being swept open, to accept the slide of his tongue, seducing his taste into her mouth until she was consumed in their shared blistering kiss.

     Hearing him emit that husky, breathless sound and accepting that he’d rushed her home because this was so a sex thing, Zara, clung to his wide shoulders, kissing him back just as ferociously.

      She knew how he liked it. A lot of tongue.

      Lust twisted her insides, filling her every breathe with him, he was such a tireless lover when he got going.

      They hadn’t even taken off coats and here they were making out like horny teens in the hallway, his mouth owning hers, hips pumping together causing delicious friction.

      On the opposite wall to where Zara was suspended like aged wagyu beef, stood the entryway table, with its carved wooden legs and two drawers that held little odds and bits with no proper home they all got shoved into those drawers, it was usually where they dropped the house keys on entry, she'd thought to place a vase of something pretty on top one of these days, she'd always loved seasonal décor. Above it was a large mirror showing their images, decor was far from her mind as her neck arched, head cracking against the wall as Rider's hot mouth scraped down her throat with savage obsessive kisses, it was an animalistic frenzy, his grunts reached deep inside and melted her into liquid, her eyes flipped open and stared at their reflection.

      Not only were his sounds savage and needful, his hands raked down her sides grasping her even tighter into him, his head burrowed to the side of her neck dragging wet starved kisses, dry humping her madly, her pussy had its own heartbeat of want, his hands everywhere all at once, overwhelming her in the sexual power that was all Rider.                

      It was possibly the sexiest caress of her entire life, and it wasn’t even skin-to-skin. The man undid her with the simplest of things. A kiss here, a smile there and she became a puddle on the floor.

     She moaned and undulated, his driving tongue kissing down to her spleen. She sucked and pulled him into her mouth.

      Maybe the pasta could wait. Her libido couldn't. She helped him drag her coat off dumping it on the floor. The hard bulge poking her belly dictated they rush.

     "Want you, Icy."

     "I'm right here." starved of oxygen she spoke against his rough lips, his beard grazing her skin.

     "Need you now."

      Those words. He had no idea how they affected her, how they chased the ghosts from her heart and replaced them with light and love. She’d give him anything.

     "Take me then, Rider. Take me how you need to take me, don't hold back. I want you just as badly as you want me." With her hands shoved hard into his hair she pulled back and did some of her own attacking, their kiss this time was feral, moans clashed the same way their tongues did, Rider was practically eating her with sensuality, drowning her in it, so close to an orgasm she just wanted out of her clothes already, for him to fuck her as wild as he was possessing her lips.

      The sight of them wrapped around each other hit her hard, it was a wild press of heat deep in her breastbone, burrowing into her heart, the want of him clawing at her. She saw how her eyes were glazed looking back at herself, consumed with lust, she was making her own noises of encouragement, garbling his name in gasping pants while her blood, warm and fizzy boiled in her veins.

      He did this to her.

      Three seconds was all it had taken for her to catch up to his level of demand, to match it as she fisted his hair pulling him back and then did her own attacking of his mouth, tongues slicked wetly together.

      It wasn't the prettiest of kisses but it was the hottest. A kiss that started as one thing and morphed into something new, something real and dark and wanton. A kiss that could addict her in seconds. No one tasted like Rider did, he was spice and danger.

     "Right here. Fuck, gotta get inside you, baby. Right now."

     "Do it. Do it, Rider. Fuck me."

     "Fucccckk."

     Hands began ripping at her clothes. His hips kept her pinned to the wall, legs just dangling in mid-air. Hoisted like she didn't weigh a thing.  She didn't care, she wanted him out of his mind.

      Her needful man.

     They'd all had a terrible shock the last couple of days, fraught with grief and anger as well as being locked in together. It brought their own mortality raging to the surface, she understood why Rider wanted her so badly, the proof of life was strong, to know they were alive and together and no one was coming between them. She helped rip their clothes away and when his long thick cock sprung from his jeans into her hands she moaned in the back of her throat.

      A dirty needy noise.

      Hungry.

      She initiated the next kiss.

      Dazzling scorching pleasure.

      "Now, Ambrosio. Fuck me, please, right now, I need you inside me. You need to be inside me."

      He broke their kiss long enough to reach down, to grasp his cock, to drag it through her wetness, no matter how desperate he always was for her, he made sure she was ready to take him. Her heart sped up, flopped around in heat and love, melting more for this great bad man. There was something so primal in his movements. Precise and unfettered.

      She wanted this second to go on and never end.

      And then with a lunge, he shoved deep and hardest inside Zara then he ever had before, roaring a glorious noise, causing her entire body to go rigid before loosening in that slow release of pleasure as he settled in, her walls accepting him.

      He was huge, it always hurt at first.

      A good hurt.

     "That sound right there, in your throat. It’s mine." he was panting in her face, eyes dark fogged by pleasure. "fuckin' love that noise, like you're gonna come any second for me, so tight grasping around me. Needed this, Icy."

      What a sight they made in the hallway mirror, Rider with his jeans halfway down his strong hairy thighs, most of his butt on show, Zara's hair crazy messy from the forceful threading of his fingers, she wore jeans only on one leg and her shirt was torn open so his mouth could find her nipples.

      It was beyond decadent that she watched how he fucked her, his pumping becoming frantic, their images echoed in the mirror like a movie scene. Both of his hands held under her thighs, working his hips, grunting against her lips, churning himself, whispering starved obscene, evocative encouragement to her, they hadn't needed any long teasing foreplay, having Rider inside her was life itself. "Oh god. Please. Harder." she whimpered grabbing around the back of his nape taking the solid slams, each one hitting her in that special place of madness. Pleasure blinded her.

     "Going to."

      And he did, for long minutes stood in the brightly lit hallway, he fucked Zara into oblivion, until her bones were weak and her lungs shook from calling out his name.

      This, she mused, slack arms around his shoulders, coming down from the bliss while he peppered her in kisses, was one of life's rare moments of completion. She breathed him, and kissed him back.  When you thought about it, the small things were what mattered, that collection of tiny happiness moments all added up to this. And though she had had her naivety brutally washed away, Zara was no fool to ignore what was right in front of her. The good waiting for her.  She snatched it with both hands, held on tight. Because, after poor Tiny, you just never knew when it was your time.

 

 

     "Wait." she issued with a strangled laugh, tilting her head to better see what he was doing. Her eyes widened ... was he going to … "Rider. That's ice cream!"

     Dinner had taken a turn for the well … she just didn't quite know, but when he'd hauled her boneless up into his arms and deposited Zara on the kitchen table she never in a million years or her wildest dirtiest dreams think for a second he meant to eat the ice cream off her body. Splash … drip ... it landed on her belly cold and creamy, more milk now than solid dessert.

      Oh hell. He absolutely intended to eat it off her. Rider bent over her, her legs balanced twitching over his shoulders, and began to lap the ice cream off her skin, slow … long ... licks, grunting as he did.

      Holy Jesus in heaven. It appeared so wrong and yet if he dared stop she'd kill him with a whisk.

      Lick. "Sweet." Lick.

      "Rider...oh, what are you doing to me?"

      "Lie back and let me enjoy you, Icy."

      Drip-drip-drip.

      He'd plunged his fingers back into the quart container of Breyers naturally vanilla. It had been intended for an after-dinner dessert in front of the tv one night, only being tackled by a horny biker had distracted Zara until she'd been one messy exhausted orgasm swamped woman, easily led when he’d wanted dessert first, served on her naked body. How could she say no when he got that look in his eye? The look that fucked her.

      Rider was dipping his fingers into the melted cream and using her for a human canvas.

      "Keep still."

     "But … oh sweet mercy … honey, please.  Christ. Almighty. AMBROSIO! You're torturing me, ohhh… that feels good… not to mention making a mess." Her whole body jerked then relaxed, melted just like the ice cream trickling stickily between her legs right on her-----his mouth followed swallowing her whole and Zara's back arched up from the kitchen table, feet digging into his spine, she got a sense of his desperation when he growled starved filthy words directly against her pussy, the vibrations tickling her clit,  his mouth eating her fully with all of his lips and tongue, she laughed as pleasure hit her from all angles, going silently inside out with bliss as his tongue flicked and lapped every drop of the dessert from her core.

     "How did you get this fuckin' sexy?" he growled, going back for more after a fast repeat of his paint. It was cold as hell making her twitch, pressing herself deeper into his face, both hands now came down and gripped into Rider's hair, if he wanted to suck the pleasure out of her then she damn well was holding on before she toppled off the table. "You taste incredible. Best thing I had in my mouth."

      She chuckled, watching him, his tongue coming out spreading her open to lap her.

      Oh, shit. "I think that's the ice cream."

    "All you, Icy. so fuckin' beautiful. Can't get enough of you. Your wet scent is drivin' me crazy. I want to fuck you until you’re sore. Then lick you until you’re better."

      His candid description triggered her climax. Zara had never experienced anything so gorgeously obscene before. But Jesus, did she enjoy the sight and feel of Rider prying her pussy lips open so he could pour ice cream over the most sensitive part of her before tonguing her clean.

     Panting through her second orgasm she declared. "We need to go to the store. I'm buying five more quarts of that ice cream. Six. Oh, fuck ..."

      Rider only laughed and licked his lips.

      The devil in those wicked eyes.

      A fully sated predator.

 

 

       Zara was leaning up on an elbow, using the dingy light from the bedside lamp on his side to gaze at him. Openly ogling Rider while he slept, her gaze swept up and down admiring every bump and ridge of muscle on display. He wore only white cotton boxer briefs, his legs were hairy, his abdomen and chest were bare. She really itched to trace the tattoos on his left arm, vivid colors a pop against his tanned skin, but didn't want to wake him now he was finally sleeping. He was marred with scars here and there, faint lines now, she wondered where they came from.

     "I can feel you watchin’ me, Icy."

      His voice startled. She squeaked. The man hadn't even moved, his breathing pattern hadn't altered at all and there he was awake beneath his closed eyelids, once her heart rate had returned to its normal beat sequence she huffed at being caught.

     "You can not, because I wasn't…" No prizes for her lying skill. Act cool. She sucked at being cool. Luckily the lighting was dim and his eyes were closed.  Blushing profusely for being caught blatantly eye-fucking his beautifully put together body she laid her head back on the pillow.

     "Mmhm ... my dick is hard, I beg to differ, obviously, your eyes are on me." He cupped himself crudely, heating her belly. Her gaze flipped the length of his body to stop somewhere around his crotch.

     "Made you look." His smirk was dirty smug.

      A frustrated embarrassed noise came out Zara, she flopped around on her side away from him to bury her face in the pillow… Rider immediately rolled with her, yanking her back against his chest with his arm slid around her middle, palm flat to her belly, pulling her butt into his crotch.

      Why did his touch send fireworks to her brain? Her exhale relaxed her body into his.

     "I'm gonna sleep some more, baby, 'cause it feels like the middle of the fuckin' night. Then when I wake, I'm gonna put my hand right between those sweet thighs, get my girl nice and ready ...“ his voice was smoke and raspy fire,  “then I'ma lift this leg and do you right just like this from behind. You good with that?"

      Intense desire caught her breath. Swirled her mind. Soaked already.

      If he had had been lying a second ago about being aroused, (he wasn't) it was absolute truth now as he grinded himself on Zara's ass, his hardness driving her a little mad with want as he settled deeply into her body, curving like perfect puzzle pieces until she felt as though they were one person.

      Bones liquefied into nothing, compelled by his voice, her body humming.

      She stirred, arching her back, doing her own rubbing.

      Back, forth, circles.

      He groaned and clamped that meaty hand on her belly to still her.

     "Baby, you good with your man fuckin’ you? say the words for me." His sleepy voice was fucking sexy. All deep drowsiness.

      It was intimacy on fire... The dead of night and he was talking about fucking her as if arranging for a sedate breakfast date with napkins and silverware.

      She smiled to herself, holding his arm. "Yes, Rider. I'm good with that."

      She felt his smile against the side of her neck. "Good, Icy. Sleep now."

      And they did. Even though she wanted to move back against him, to arouse him further by brushing her backside on his hardness, to hear his excitement when he growled and inevitably took her like a rutting bull, but she wanted something more than sex from him, this right here, the warm safety listening to his rhythmic breathing, as her eyes drifted closed in the warm cocoon of Rider’s body heat, as sleep pulled her under, it felt like contentment and happiness.

      So, they slept tangled together with the promise of her big bad biker man and lust to come.

      And then he woke her a few hours later with lazy unhurried drugging kisses, and they had orgasms for breakfast.

      When Zara descended the stairs sometime later after yet another leisurely nap, bare feet quiet as a mouse, she noticed the house hummed with those quiet morning sounds she hadn't heard in forever, she stopped on the last step, hand curved around the newel post, listening; a radio murmuring down the hall of the weather report, calling for snow, it said, and she took a moment to smile and hoped there was snow again sometime soon, then there was the rush of water through the pipes as she heard a faucet turn on for a rapid second, low notes of voices soon after. There was an untouchable warmth in the air, it felt, dare she admit ... comfortable, welcoming.  So much had happened in three days she felt guilty for enjoying the quiet.

      Bikers were in the kitchen.

      Four of them around the small pine oval table. They looked ridiculous sat hunched, it was too small for big men, but somehow, they looked at home in Rider's house. Zara paused in the doorway, regretting not putting on long PJ pants. The shorts clung to her upper thighs and butt. She had okay thighs, she thought, presentably shaven legs, too skinny, according to Rider, but she hadn't prepared for them to be on display so early in the morning with a bunch of his men. She considered backing out before they saw her.

      Too late.

     Rider's head reared up, sensing her there. She watched his eyes flash heat before his eyelids drooped sexily to half-mast, and then his smile grew ever so slowly. It was in his smile; the bond of two people who shared a similar energy that flowed between them. It almost knocked her off her feet.

      It brought a stain of pink to her cheeks as she smiled in return.

      Three other faces joined in on the looking.

     "Good morning, gentlemen." she said softly. Gruff morning's replied.  The lure of coffee was too much to ignore; she couldn't function without at least half a pot of caffeine in her bloodstream. She'd read once that coffee was the blood your body really needed, and she agreed not wanting to take the chance of missing her coffee boost first thing on … well not quite morning, their sex had passed the early hours away but it wasn't worth the risk of skipping this step altogether.  Zara was no heathen.

     Shuffling to the gurgling pot, she crowded it waiting for it to be finished brewing so it could spit out the brown elixir she adored. Come on. She wanted to escape back to her room. Feeling all sets of eyes on her. They had been talking and stopped rapidly when she entered, telling her she'd interrupted them.

     "I won't be a minute, just let me grab a coffee and I'll leave you boys to it."

     "No need to rush off, girlie. Rider was 'bout to kick us out anyway."

     "Did you offer your boys food, Ambrosio?" lifting the white mug to her mouth, Zara went through her ritual of sniffing her coffee first, before taking the first glorious sip, quickly followed by a second. Oh, heaven.

      Rider snorted. "Ain’t running a soup kitchen. They came with club business not to fill their bellies."

     "He didn't! Here we are starving, Z-girl." protested Grinder at the same time, sending Zara a cheeky wink.

     "Fucking famished I am, didn't even get asked if I wanted a lousy piece of bread. A man could die." interjected a smiling Snake.

      "Boy has no manners, girlie." Uncle Jed gazed her way looking cute and amused.

      Zara smiled against the rim of her cup, eyeing Rider who winked. She felt it in the pit of her belly, their fast lust connection and how he didn't hide it when his boys were around.

      Stood in the heart of his kitchen he was still all president bad biker man despite him being the same man who made her beg for her orgasm just an hour ago.

      She knew which one she preferred. Both.

      It was strange to separate. He was different in President mode, as she called it, it was incredibly attractive to watch him work, and interact with his club members, it was obvious to her they all held a tightly knit bond with each other, was it any wonder some were still wary of her presence in Rider's life.

     Without asking, she pulled out a skillet, next came a large package of bacon from the fridge. She was dolloping a good heaping of Crisco into the pan when a hand came around the back of her nape, moving up into her hair. Long masterful fingers.  Warmth filled her belly when Rider's head dipped down to her ear, his mouth kissed her right there.  "You don't have to feed these pigs, Icy."

     "People have to eat. It won't take long. Who wants bacon?” she called out and a chorus of I do greeted her back.

     Making food for a bunch of people, her man looking on with a smile playing the edges of his mouth like she’d pleased the shit out of him, while he watched her. Now, this felt normal, she thought.

      This was good.