Sierra

A frostbitten breeze slices through my hoodie, pinches my skin and sweeps on, sending trash flying down the sidewalk. I hunch my head and clutch my backpack to my chest to give me a buffer against the wind. Even summer is chilly this far north.

Vacant buildings turn a blind eye to my progress. Halfway across an empty parking lot, a wave of sickness hits. I hurry to an alley and dry-heave. There’s nothing in my stomach but it cramps anyway, muscles tightening like a fist around emptiness. I slump against the dirty wall.

Not now. I don’t need to be sick on top of everything. I fumble in my stained backpack for my water bottle and swish some tepid liquid in my mouth. I don’t know if the metallic taste is from the tap water, old plastic, or some mysterious illness I’ve caught on top of everything else. It’s probably just hunger. It’s been way, way too long since I had a good meal.

The roar of motorcycle pipes sends me deep into the alley. They’ve found me. I plaster myself against the wall, garbage at my feet, and hold my breath. My eyes close like a child. If I can’t see the monster, it can’t find me.

The pipes fade into a truck’s hiss and rumble. They’re not here. I’ve run north, too far into the middle of nowhere. The Hell Riders will search the towns of their territory, moving south. No one in their right mind would run north.

My hands shake, half from weakness, half from fear.

After a few minutes leaning against the wall, I make myself get moving. Across the street and up ahead, a big sign announces, ‘Randy’s Place.’ I cross the street, an obstacle course of broken pavement and half-frozen puddles, wincing as the mud stains my tennis shoes. I’m not at my best to go begging for a job. But I won’t need these shoes to be a stripper.

As I hit the sidewalk, a truck rolls by, close enough to spatter my jeans with dirty water. Just the final sprint in a run of shitty bad luck. I plan to strip down to my bra and underwear before the interview. Randy wasn’t too happy to see me yesterday; I’m not sure why I think today will be different. Desperation and delusion caused by an empty stomach.

If he would just give me a chance, I know I have a pretty enough face. With more food, I’ll have all the lady goods I need to barter with. But I need cash to buy food, and to get cash, I need a night on the pole.

If I were smart, I’d move on from this tiny town, where the best employment option is a rundown dance bar catering to truckers. But I don’t have the money to run far and can’t risk poking my head up in a nearby town. The Hell Riders own this part of the country.

My only hope of hiding is this pit of mud and broken pavement, too small to support much more than a couple of gas stations, a general store that sells everything from chainsaws to underwear, a dingy 24-hour diner, and Randy’s.

The neon sign is off, but the door is cracked open. I pause in the alley, comb my fingers through my hair and try not to think of the last time I showered. Maybe Randy will let me freshen up in the bathroom before he puts me on a pole.

A deep breath, and I walk through the dark doorway. A man sits on the stage, rifling through CDs. The strip club’s namesake, ugly even in the silted shadows of his club. He’s fat and balding, blunt fingers scratching his neck with a sandpaper sound.

But he’s king here, and he knows it. He glances at me as I walk toward him and huffs in disgust. Hope dies, but I plant myself in front of him.

“I wanna dance.”

“Thought I told you ‘no’ already.” Randy goes back to sorting CDs. “Don’t need a stripper with no tits.”

“Put me on a pole and see what I can do.” I’m bluffing. I’ve never danced naked in my life. But I know enough about how rough guys like their women. Growing up in a motorcycle club will teach a girl.

“Just told you. Don’t need another dancer. Get your skinny ass outta here.”

Fuck this. I stride away, detouring at the last second to the bathroom. Randy didn’t even look at me.

Inside, I wash my face, take a good look and grimace. My skin is so pale it’s almost translucent. There are ditches under my eyes. My backpack, my one possession, is filthy, spattered mud hiding the worse stains underneath. One glance, and Randy will know I spent last night curled in a doorway in a back alley—and that I’m desperate not to do it again. I look gross at best, or maybe hungover. My hands tremble a bit as I apply a little makeup. I’ll wait in here until I feel less like a junkie, then go out and insist the proprietor of this fine establishment give me another chance. I’ll grovel and do it sexy. I’ll do what I have to—even suck Randy’s dick.

By the time I’ve worked up the nerve to exit the bathroom, a deep voice fills the club. I slip from the bathroom but stay in the shadows.

Fat Randy has another petitioner.

“Just want you to hear me out.” A big man spreads his hands. His broad shoulders block my view of Randy. The newcomer is big, but not with fat. From the solid way he fills out his flannel shirt and jeans, he’s all muscle.

“No broad of mine is gonna up and leave to service a bunch of—”

“We’ll pay. Room and board, ten thousand at the end of the season. More if she does a good job. My guys might tip.”

I hug the wall, what I just heard reverberating through me. Room and board and ten thousand dollars.

“Eh,” Randy grunts. “I’m not gonna let you poach my girls. They’ve got a good thing here and they know it. Summer’s the busy season. They’re not going to go to bumfuck nowhere and dance for a crew of dirty lumberjacks.”

“I just thought—”

“The answer’s ‘fuck no.’ Now get the fuck out. If I hear you’re hanging around, talking to my girls about this, I’ll have Bernie make sure you get the message. Bernie!” Randy shouts, and a tattooed hulk appears from the smoky gloom, plants his fists on the bar and leans forward like a gorilla.

Randy smirks. “Bernie doesn’t talk much. He uses his fists instead, you get me?”

Shaking his head, the big guy pivots. I shrink into the shadows and watch his boots clomp past.

I get a quick look at his face—black beard clipped tight to a clenched jaw—before he hits the door with his hand and shoves it open. I’m following before I can stop myself.

“Hey, you,” Randy sees me and shouts. “Get out of here. Don’t need no more dancers.” I leave before he calls a bouncer to toss out my ‘skinny ass.’

I scurry up the sidewalk, chasing the big guy. “Hey!” I call but it comes out a raspy whisper. He keeps walking. He’s got a nice stride, long and loose. Faded jeans, stained and washed clean. Boots and a thermal shirt under Carhartt plaid. He looks like a lumberjack, a rugged sort who grew up here with the pines.

Be brave.

“Excuse me.” I get close enough to touch his elbow. He swings around and glowers at me, black brows knotted, beard hiding a frown. I try not to cringe.

“Um... did you say you were looking for a female entertainer?”

His eyes skip up and down my lean frame.

I raise my chin and puff out my chest a little. “I’m game.”

He just looks at me. His jaw is square and hard under a bristling black beard.

“You work there?” He tilts his head toward Randy’s neon sign.

“Not yet. I was going to apply, but I like your offer better.”

He looks away a moment, and I see him thinking of a way to blow me off.

“Where would I be staying?” I blurt.

“Logging camp about fifty miles north of here.”

“I didn’t realize there was anything north of this town,” I try to joke.

“There isn’t. The camp’s remote. Nothing but bears, trees and us.”

You’re not a bear? I shut the teasing down. “And you just want a dancer? Not anything else?” A breeze kicks up and I shiver. The thought of taking off my clothes makes me cold.

He looks at me a for a second, his gaze distant like he’s seeing right through me.

“Did you eat?” he grunts.

“What?”

“Breakfast.” He jerks his head down the street at a diner. “My treat. We’ll talk.”

Lincoln

The girl slides into the booth, visibly relaxing into the warmth. She’s all skin and bones in tight jeans and a fucking hoodie. A hoodie, during this cold snap. She looks like she’s barely outta high school.

When I first saw her out of the corner of my eye at Randy’s, I clocked her as an addict, but her eyes and voice were clear and brave. It took courage to run after me, and I respect that.

I’ll warm her up, buy her a good meal, give her some money to buy a decent jacket, and let her down easy.

She’s biting her lip, shoulders hunched. Fuck, I don’t want her afraid of me.

“How old are you?”

She licks her lips. “Twenty-one.”

I can’t keep from scoffing.

She meets my frown with a proud chin. “Here.” She fumbles in the backpack she’s been gripping like it’s a safety blanket. Slaps down a plastic rectangle. ID.

Sierra Woodhouse. Organ donor. Motorcycle license, too, which is interesting. And yes, if I did my math correctly, she is twenty-one.

I relax a little. She looks like jailbait, but unless this is a forgery, she’s not. I hate the thought of someone so young working at a place like Randy’s. But I ain’t paid to care. Everyone’s got their own fucked up story. The best thing about living away from civilization is that I don’t have to deal with people’s bullshit anymore.

“Tell me about the job,” she demands. Feisty. Stronger than she looks.

“Food first.” I prop up my menu. Workman’s special right at the top includes two of practically everything on the breakfast menu. They know how to feed men around here. I order the meal and coffee from the tired waitress and wait for Sierra. She’s biting her lip, looking at the menu with an almost pained expression. Nothing hurts an empty stomach like a possible feast.

“Make that two coffees and two specials.” I hand back my menu but take Sierra’s and set it aside. “I’ll let you know if we need more food.”

Sierra keeps her gaze on the table, like trying to choose what to eat took the fight out of her. Her eyelashes are dark smudges against her pale skin. She has a few freckles.

“You from around here?” I ask.

“No. You?”

I sigh. “Wisconsin. Thought I was used to cold weather.”

“And?”

“Hell isn’t hot. Hell is cold and, November to May, it’s right here.”

“How far are we from the Arctic Circle?”

“Not far enough. There’s just two seasons up here. Winter, and the one we’re in now.”

“What’s the one we’re in now?”

“Blackfly and mosquito season.”

That gets a tiny smile.

I shut up until they put food in front of us and motion for her to dig in. She tries to be dainty, but she shovels the cheap calories in. I order a second cup of coffee and wait until she slows to talk.

“So, the job.”

Her eyes flick up to mine. They’re green and striking, slightly almond-shaped. Not one hundred percent Caucasian background then. Her face is decent enough, even pretty if it wasn’t so thin and hollowed out, but her eyes are fucking gorgeous.

“I’ve got a crew of guys up in logging country. This is our busy season, and we don’t have time for off days. I don’t want my guys running down here to get a fix.”

“By fix you mean ‘pussy.’” She doesn’t shy away from the word. “You want one on call.”

I shrug. It seemed a good idea at the time. Now, I’m not so sure.

“What does the job entail? Like, how many hours?”

“You dance every night. Other than that, the time is yours. Eat with us, sleep in, do girly shit—”

“I’ll do it.”

I sit back with a sigh. The booth creaks. “Have you stripped before?”

“No. But I’ve waitressed. And how hard is it to take off your clothes?”

I study her a moment. Her wrists are small with delicate blue veins. I could snap them with one hand.

“I don’t look like much, but I’m tough,” she continues. “I catch on quick. I’ll be good for your guys, I swear.”

“There’s more. The guys might want... more.”

“I can do that, too.” She meets my stare head-on. I have to admit; my dick perks up a bit at her boldness.

“You have experience?” I ask, like this is a regular job interview.

“I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re asking. My momma told me about the birds and the bees.”

I snort. She’s blunt and honest. A breath of fresh air.

“So you’d be willing to…”

She shrugs. “I can do anything for that amount of money. Anything and anyone.”

I stare at her. “You’d have to get tested. We’ll pay for the doctor.”

She hesitates a moment. “Okay.”

Fuck, what can I say to deter her? “There are seven other guys, all built like me.”

“I won’t break. I can take you.” Her green eyes bore into mine.

Now I’m sprung, my dick hard enough to punch through the table. “Fuck me,” I mutter.

Her glare turns into a flinty smile. “That’s my job.”

I wave to the waitress. This was supposed to be easy. A pity meal. I’d peel off some bills and send her on her way. But now I’m not so sure she’ll go.

“Give me a chance,” she says. “I can do the job. Take care of me and I’ll take care of you.”

Rough voices outside and the diner door flies open. A crew of men stomp inside, talking loudly. Sierra practically shrinks into a ball as they pass. And I know.

She’s on the run. She’s hiding from someone. Fuck me, there’s no way I can say ‘no’ now.

Maybe I can just bring her back for the night. I try to imagine what Saint will say when he sees her. He’s even bigger than me.

“Did you spend the night here, in a motel?” she asks. “If you still have your room, I’d like to shower before we leave.”

“Sure.” Maybe I can slip out of the motel. Leave her some money and pay for the room a few nights. Stop at a church or something to get someone to check on her. Little thing like her shouldn’t be alone.

As we step outside the diner, a motorcycle revs in the distance and Sierra ducks her head, darting closer to me.

A man definitely did her wrong. Maybe a few of them—out here motorcycle clubs own whole towns. In the MC world, men are men, and women are property. If a club member got hold of Sierra, they wouldn’t think twice about beating the sass out of her. The thought makes me want to destroy something.

“This way.” I step between her and the road, keeping her on the inside of the sidewalk in case a truck splashes by. Such a damn gentleman.

We’re halfway to the motel when I realize I’m not shortening my stride. She’s marched right along with me, head high. Not asking for anything.

Fuck, I like this girl.

“Here.” I stop in front of a general store. “I need a few things.” We enter and her eyes dart around. “Pick out some warmer clothes,” I order. “I’ll buy.” In case she was tempted to steal the things she needs. “And any girly shit you might need—enough for a month.” She can go to a safehouse fully stocked up.

I kill time until she appears at the register with a little cart filled with way too few things. Pink toiletries and a few thermals, another pair of jeans.

Muttering a curse, I grab a winter jacket that looks like it might be her size—or at least not make her look like she’s wearing her mother’s bathrobe. “Cold up in the boonies. Remember? Cold as Satan’s heart.” I toss the jacket in front of the cashier and add a few plaid shirts. “What’s your shoe size?”

She tells the cashier, who heads off to grab what I instruct. Boots. No more soaked tennis shoes. As an afterthought, I add a few pairs of socks.

“I thought you’d want me in less clothes,” she murmurs when the cashier is distracted. My dick jumps again.

I shake my head. “This way the show lasts longer.” If I don’t think of her body under all these clothes, I won’t get a boner in the middle of the general store. I pay before Sierra has time to flinch over the total.

When I unlock the door to the motel, it’s my turn to flinch. She deserves more than this faded place with stains on the carpet and the stale smell of cigarettes. In the dim light, her skin seems to glow.

“Take your time.”

“I won’t be long.”

I put on the TV to mask the sound of the shower. If there was time to make my escape, this is it. But a cowardly ass way to do it.

I stare at the screen and try not to imagine Sierra getting naked just a few feet away, behind a flimsy door.

Sierra

Fuck, hot water feels good. The heat sluices to my bones. A nice, clean feeling plus the food and I’m ready to live again. I wish I could linger, but I’d bet ten-thousand dollars Lincoln’s gonna dump me as a charity case. He’ll either walk out now or wait to drive me to a homeless shelter. Which means I’ve got to convince him I’ve got what it takes for this job, ASAP.

I wash and shampoo in record time. Once out and wrapped in a towel, I mop steam from the mirror and stare at my reflection. Black hair slicked back. Green eyes, too large for my narrow face.

It’s now or never. But I have a secret weapon. After drawing it on, I open the door, pausing to pose in the doorway. I timed it right—Lincoln is still here, eyes blank on the TV screen.

He’s a big man. Young, strong, good looking. He’s got the world in the palm of his hand. But I’ve got the one thing he doesn’t have. The one thing he needs. Pussy.

I let the towel drop.

Lincoln drags his eyes from the television and visibly starts.

“I think you should sample the goods before you take me home.” I saunter over, letting him drink me in. I’m wearing an almost see-through thong and bra—my stripper outfit. They didn’t sell anything sexy at the general store. Probably a good thing. Their idea of sexy underwear might be pink plaid.

I move in front of the TV and Lincoln isn’t even tempted to take his eyes from me. Pretending the sports newscast is club music, I start to dance.

This is my show. I’m in charge, swaying in front of him, dipping and swiveling my hips. I’d watched the strippers do this, and the wannabe old ladies at the Hell Riders’ clubhouse. His green eyes track my movements. He’s holding his breath.

I may not be stripper material, but Lincoln’s probably not been with a woman for a long time. Such a shame. The sharp planes of his face are perfect, even under the wild beard. His muscles are solid under my hands. A man like this should be worshipped by a woman, often.

I climb onto his lap and straddle him, knees on the bed, my legs stretched over his large thighs. His large hands immediately slide to my back, supporting me, but he makes no move to go further. No problem. I got this.

This close, Lincoln is a masterpiece, waiting to be enjoyed. I roll my body against his and let my hands explore the dormant power of his corded arms, his solid chest, his broad shoulders. He’s rigid and strong everywhere I touch. I get lost in him.

Then I dip my head close to his face, angling my head to see how we’d fit if we kissed. My mouth hovers over his, my lips just out of reach. Our breath mingles.

A second later, he raises his chin, tipping his face up to meet mine. A slight move but it tells me all I need. I’ve got him under my spell. I rise up and turn, settling my ass on his lap and gyrating to a silent beat. I lie back like he’s my armchair, my little body draped over his powerful frame, and grind his cock against my soft ass. It grows even larger. A monster.

I whirl again and unbutton his jeans deftly. Jack was often drunk or high when we bumped uglies—I have plenty of practice stripping down a man’s jeans just enough to ride. Lincoln’s abs flex as I slip a hand in and explore. Sweet Jesus, he’s a nice handful. I try but can’t close my fingers around his thickness. My sex prickles as my body prepares to take him.

“Sierra—” he says. Before he can slow this down, I stop his mouth with mine. I practically attack him, throwing my whole body into the kiss. His thick cock twitches in one of my hands while my other clamps on his neck, holding his lips to mine. I press against him, pushing until he leans back with a groan. I free my hands long enough to unbutton his shirt and scooch up his thermal. I’m almost naked, it’s his turn. I want to see what I’m dealing with. He helps me, whipping the shirt off. His arms fall around me, caging me but just holding me without applying pressure. He’s panting, jaw flexing as if he’s holding back something he wants to say.

He’s giving me an out. I arch a brow and roll against him, lazy and inviting. My sex presses closer to his. I’m wet, slipping over the coarse hair around his heavy length. A few inches and he’ll be inside me.

He reaches down the bed for something—his wallet. I cock a brow as he fingers the billfold, searching for something.

“Condom,” he says. I nod, quickly removing my panties while watching solemnly as he sheathes himself. This is happening.

“Shh.” I hush his unspoken doubts. “Let me take care of you.” His hips thrust upwards, seeking me. It’s too late to stop now. I lift up, point him toward my wet entrance, and drive down.

A groan escapes. I was right. It’s been a long time for him. I wriggle a little, accepting his girth. It’s tight, a little uncomfortable, but not as bad as it would be if I weren’t so wet. I haven’t had a man inside of me since Jack… but this isn’t the time to think about Jack.

We rock slowly together, eyes wide open. It’s a conversation between strangers. Hello, how are you, is this what you like? How about if I touch you now? Here... or here? Tell me what you like. Our hips align, move against each other in easy rhythm. Our bodies become fast friends.

I close my eyes and give over to sensation. There’s a man under me again, but he’s nothing like Jack. Jack was a grown-up boy, goofy and heroin thin. Lincoln is all man, his body solid and powerful under mine. He cups my bottom, covering the whole of it with his large hands. You’re safe now, with me. I’ll protect you. No one gets through me to you. I’ve known him a little over two hours, and I already heard the silent promise. I want to believe...

Flesh slaps against flesh. The conversation grows in intensity, the sentences curt. Faster, harder. Now. Please.

My orgasm strikes, flashing up my spine. I stiffen and fall against him. He groans and bucks into me, once, twice, and grinds into me, rooting deep. We fall together, a jumble of limbs on the cheap, rickety bed.

I rise first, pushing back my wet hair. Lincoln admires the flush on my chest and in my cheeks. I’m not a skinny-ass charity case anymore. I’m a fucking sex goddess, and he knows it.

A furrow appears between Lincoln’s heavy brows as he regards me. I grin, wrinkling my nose a little as if to say, didn’t expect that, didja?

No. His owlish gaze tells me. A muscle jerks in his jaw—an unwilling smile, then he gives in, rolling back his head and laughing, white teeth flashing against his dark beard. As the happy, carefree sound fills the room, I head to the bathroom, strutting like a salesman who has just closed the deal.