THE BIKER’S DESIRE
Curvy Women Wanted, 6
Sam Crescent
Copyright © 2017
Chapter One
Adele Sparks was going to be on her knees taking his cock. Rock Hard, or Rock to most people, was the Prez of Satan’s Demons MC. He watched the little cleaner they’d hired for the clubhouse, who had her ass in the air as she was trying to get toward the dirt underneath the tables. He loved her ass. It was so curvy, so round. He’d always loved a fuller woman with nice fat thighs, big tits, and hips a man could hold on to.
He wasn’t a small guy, so he liked his women to be able to handle him. The last thing he wanted was a woman complaining as he plowed into her. There was no room in his life for a moaning bitch.
The thing was, Adele Sparks wasn’t his kind of woman. She was a civilian, and had nothing to do with the club life at all. She worked for him, and she was nice. He wasn’t used to nice women.
Bitches were called that for a reason.
No, Adele Sparks was a lady.
She also wasn’t a prude, and she didn’t look down at any of the club either. Every single day she came in early, cleaned the place up, and then left. At the end of every week, she’d come with an invoice, which he paid.
It was simple, and she was nice. The one thing he lived for was her rocking smile. He couldn’t get her dimples out of his head. During the time she was cleaning, he’d never once heard her complain or try to belittle anyone.
His little obsession had taken him to getting as much detail on her life as possible. She was thirty years old. Fifteen years younger than he was. No children and had been married and divorced. The reason cited for her divorce was adultery.
Running a finger across his lip, he watched as she wriggled out, and he winced as he saw the used condom in her gloved hand.
Still, there was no expression on her face as she dumped it into the trash and carried on. Within three hours the club was spotless as it always was.
“You okay, Prez?” Nails asked.
“Never better. Keep the sluts out of the way. I don’t want them saying shit to Adele.”
She’d gone to the kitchen, out of his sight.
He didn’t care that his men were looking at him strangely. Following her into the kitchen, he watched as she wiped down the sink, nodded, and then spun around. Her arm was full of her products. The place was spotless.
“All done,” she said. “That must have been some party.”
“That was just a regular Friday night.”
She laughed. “I’ll go and put these in my car.” She brushed past him, and he got the scent of lemon.
Get a grip.
He’d taken the lives of men because they’d betrayed his club, and he was panting after this woman as if she had a pussy made of gold.
Still, he followed her outside, admiring her ass while she bent into her car.
The car was a piece of shit, run down, and close to not being roadworthy he was sure. She wouldn’t change it even when he’d offered to buy her a new one. She’d turned him down flat.
“There’s nothing wrong with something that’s just a bit old.”
She refused to get rid of a car that still had several miles to go on the clock, and he respected her for it. She didn’t waste shit, and he liked that.
When she spun around, he was a little too close, and she stumbled. Wrapping his arms around her to help steady her, he saw that he’d taken her by surprise.
“Wow, I didn’t even hear you approach.”
“No problem.” He spotted the invoice in her hands. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” she said.
“Why don’t you ever ask about the parties?” He looked over the amount, and would authorize payment as soon as he got back into the club.
“I don’t know what you mean?”
“Every Saturday you come in here and clean up the mess, yet you never ask for an invite.”
She looked back at his clubhouse and then at him. “I don’t know. It’s your party, and you invite whoever you want. I’m not going to expect an invite just because I clean it up.”
“Would you come?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, I seem to be a bit slow today. Would I come where?”
“To a party if I invited you.”
“Oh, erm, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m really suited for something like that.”
“Why not?” he asked.
She wore a pair of jeans and a checkered shirt that was covered by an apron. Comfortable and casual. She wore a pair of boots, and her hair was pulled back from her face. The ponytail was looped up, and it made him wonder how long her hair actually was.
She was a down-to-earth lady.
“I guess I don’t think it’s the same.”
He folded his arms, waiting for her judgment.
“Is it because we’re an MC?” he asked. “You got a problem hanging out with us?”
She chuckled. “If I had a problem I wouldn’t be cleaning for you. I’m not a skimpy clothes kind of girl. I don’t do parties with a lot of drinking. Now if you offered me a barbeque, I’d certainly come, but I know some of your club don’t like me.”
This made Rock tense. “What do you mean?”
“It’s nothing, honestly. I’m a foreigner in your club. It’s nothing I’ve not heard before. You’re like a gang in high school. You know how people are grouped together. The cool kids, the nerdy ones, and stuff like that. I’m not a biker girl or chick.” She frowned. “I’m not sure what the right words are.”
“You’d be old lady material.”
She winced. “Yeah, not exactly a compliment. Have a good day, Rock.”
He watched as she climbed into her car, and pulled away. Adele was going to belong to him. There was no doubt about it.
****
Was it an invitation? Adele glanced in her rearview mirror, and not for the first time wondered if she should just ask. Did she even want to go to an MC party? Nope. That was not her scene. She’d heard several of the women who stayed there talking about what went on. From everything she’d cleaned away, she knew it was sex. That was all the club did, have sex.
After ten years of being a cleaner, she’d seen it all. She had been in charge of cleaning some rich kid’s frat house.
The MC had nothing on those kids. The stuff she’d seen was just disgusting.
The parties though. There were a lot of men and women there. She’d heard one of the women describe a train, and there was no way in hell that she’d ever allow herself to get into a situation like that. The thought of men using her one after the other didn’t sit well with her. According to her now ex-husband, no one would want her. Of course, her ex had been more than happy to have sex with her when it had suited him.
It had taken a lot out of her at the time. Not only had her ex repeatedly cheated on her, he’d tried to break her down, bringing back old insecurities about her weight. Rock didn’t have a problem with her weight or her ass. She’d noticed the way he kept looking at her.
She didn’t actually know what to do with that kind of attention though. Should she say something? Leave it alone?
When she was around him all thought fled her, and she ended up feeling like a bumbling idiot.
No man had ever gotten underneath her skin, not even her husband. They had liked each other, but that hadn’t extended into anything more. Then of course she’d discovered him cheating on her, and it hadn’t helped their marriage at all. There was just something about the Prez. She’d heard his nickname was Rock Hard because when his dick was up, it was up. At least that was what she’d heard. Knowing her luck, he probably was a selfish man when it came to the bedroom.
Why was she even thinking about sex and Rock? Just because he liked looking at her didn’t mean that anything was going to happen.
She’d been working at the club for a long time now. In between her other cleaning jobs, the clubhouse was a fun place to be. Sure, it had foul-mouthed men, but they never crossed the line, not with her anyway. They didn’t give her shit, or call her names, or treat her like dirt.
In fact, if anyone did hear someone bad-mouthing her, there were always consequences. She liked that. Considering it was supposed to be a place full of criminals, she felt safe there.
Strange.
Pulling up outside of her home, she parked her car. Her cell phone beeped, and when she checked it was to see a notification of payment.
Smiling, she pocketed her cell, grabbed her products, and headed inside.
The two-bedroom home that she’d gotten after the divorce was small, modest, and totally homey. She didn’t linger there. Instead, she carried her cleaning products out toward the shed that she’d also turned into an office where she kept her supplies.
She loved to clean. The scent of pine or lemon, which were her two favorite fragrances, always made her feel at peace. Her mother loved to clean and keep house. Adele got it from her.
Her parents had had her really late in life, and both of them had died of illness a couple of months apart. She missed them all the time, but they’d asked her to never have any regrets, to live life to the fullest, and to never let an opportunity pass her by.
She knew her parents had waited too long to have kids.
They’d both gone to college, and been in demanding jobs for the longest time. Her mother had been a doctor while her father was a lawyer. Every year they’d say to each other that they’d have a kid the next year. Time would pass, and the same promises would continue, until finally at forty-five, her mother finally got pregnant.
It was probably the hardest thing her mother ever had to go through. Complete bed rest had been ordered, and her mother hated that.
Slowing down, her mother finally realized everything that had been missing. The surgeries, the new patients, the reputation, it meant nothing. Her home was spotless, and yet she didn’t live there. The fridge was filled with takeout containers, and a cleaner left notes with work messages.
By having her, her parents had had no choice but to look at life a little differently.
Adele would never complain though. Her parents had been strong, and taught her to love her life, and what she did.
Her cleaning business was a far cry from medicine or law, but it made her happy.
What about Rock?
She closed up her shed and made her way back into her home. The weekend would be spent going shopping, visiting the care home, and then making a run to the pet home. There was no room for men or for romance.
What about fucking?
Her pussy grew slick, and she released a little whimper. She’d been divorced for five years and hadn’t been with another guy since then. Sex toys were a great invention, and all she’d known of men, her ex included, was how disappointing they were. They didn’t even know how to find her clit.
Pleasure had always come from her own hand.
The biggest problem was the fact toys were cold. They didn’t possess passion or firm, kissable lips. They were just items used to stimulate.
In the past few weeks, or even months, they’d left her … empty.
She couldn’t give herself to another man. Rock would have to stay as just another guy she worked for.