When I manage to wake up, it’s pitch-black outside. Compared to the city lights I’m used to, there’s not even a streetlight to illuminate my room. My hands search for a light switch or a lamp along the side of the big brass bed, but I come up with nothing. I am forced to slide out of bed and towards where I think the bathroom door is. I manage to find the wall, and the bathroom springs into my view.
My eyes take a second to adjust before I can find the main room’s lamp. Once turned on, I finally get a decent view of the bedroom I’m staying in. It’s massive, I’ll give Tank that. The stone floors are covered in blue painted flowers and yellow brush strokes while the rest of the room is in bright, burnt reds. It’s a mix of rustic and vintage that I love.
To the corner is the large desk where we began our hot and heavy session, and next to it is an equally large chest of drawers. I spot my discarded dress in tatters near the bench. That’s not going to work for the rest of the trip. I walk to the bed, the same bed that Tank lifted me onto and placed me in hours ago, and tear off the cream-colored sheet. Wrapping it around my body, I promise myself that this is just going to have to do for now.
I take a deep breath and pray that those groundskeepers are gone as I open the door to the courtyard. It’s the same kind of darkness from my bedroom earlier with the dark sky above covered in sprinkling stars and a yellowish crescent moon. Despite the area being empty, I hear music in the distance. It’s some old rock and roll song I haven’t heard in years. I spot the light coming through from the far corner of the terrace, and I quickly walk towards it.
From the small crack, I spot Tank standing over an open fire. A black apron is tied around his waist and his hand is covered in a bright pink oven mitt. I push the door open even further and give a little cough. He spins towards me, a steaming pan in one hand and a spatula in another. “What are you doing?!” I cry out to him, laughing at the sight.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asks, as he gestures to his ridiculous apron that is covered in frilly lace. “I’m cooking you dinner.”
I walk towards him, hitching up the sheet around my ankles. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” No motorcycle guys in my world would dare to cook for themselves. That’s what greasy take out joints and their old ladies were for.
“You tell me.” He hands me a spoonful of a red bubbling broth. I take a quick taste, expecting it to be far from appetizing, but the basil and tomato hit me instantly as I’m brought back to my grandmother’s old tomato soups. I take another spoonful, letting the warm liquid fill my mouth.
“That’s incredible,” I finally say. “How did you learn to do this?”
“Go sit at the table, and I’ll explain. Dinner’s almost ready anyways.” He turns back to his stove before adding, “There’s a robe out by your door if you don’t want to eat naked…though I’d prefer if you did.”
He gives me a wink before I dash out to the courtyard back towards my room. In a pile sits a perfectly folded black, plush robe, along with a new pair of clean, black lace panties. They’re completely see through, but I’m grateful for anything to wear. I’m not the type of girl who loves being exposed like this.
When I come back towards the kitchen, I spot the candlelit table with the white linen cloth. The entire area next to the pool sparkles and glimmers. And sitting down at one of the chairs is Tank, a relaxed smile washed over his steely face. He stands when he sees me and pulls out a chair. Before I can begin to ask him the million questions on my mind, he does the answering for me. “My mother, before she passed, used to make me take her out on dates. My old man was never around, so she thought it was important to teach me how to be a gentleman—which includes cooking a lady dinner and setting a table.”
I place a napkin in my lap and instantly dive into the tomato and basil soup. We spend the rest of the meal chatting about his mother and his life pre-motorcycle club days. He joined the club at sixteen, just a kid, right after she died of a heart attack. He’s nostalgic as he talks about the men who brought him under his wing and taught him how to ride. And when the last Apache president died in a crash, he was surprised the men elected him.
It’s a softer side of Tank that I would never know was there. He doesn’t talk as if the club is full of violent thugs or heartless criminals. These men are his boys, his brothers, his friends. And the experiences they share, good or bad, has somehow shaped him into the person I’m dining with tonight—for good or for bad.
As I finish my last bite, I softly say, “Your mother taught you well.” I say in seriousness, “I’ve never had a guy cook me dinner or even bring me somewhere as beautiful as this.”
“I’ve never actually done it for another woman either, so I guess you’re my first.”
“That’s surprising. I know Abe is always getting women who throw themselves at him. The Apache president doesn’t have the same problem?” I’m probing him, I know. But it doesn’t hurt to know a bit more about the guy seemingly wining and dining me.
“No, I have that problem, if you want to call it that. But they’re not exactly the girls I want to show a good time to. It’s more of a one-and-done kind of deal.”
I put down my spoon and look him into the eye “Is that what you plan on doing to me tonight, Tank?”
He, too, places down his silverware and takes a long drink from a large champagne glass. When he finishes, he catches my glare, his face transforming into something darker and more sinister. “No, Sierra. When we’re done here, I plan on giving you the ride of your life, and this time, we’re both going to cum together.”
I suddenly feel completely full, as I struggle to finish the soup without my hand shaking and my legs trembling under me. He devours the rest of his bowl, places his napkin on the table, and stands up. He takes my hand, forcing me to stand as we head out towards the pool area where a bedside cabana has been set up.
As I watch the water ripple and sway with the light breeze, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls the tie that holds my robe together. I let the robe fall towards the ground without any protest. He stands before me, stunned, “You look amazing.”
I don’t let him say another word before I reach towards his face and brush the strands of curls out of his bright blue eyes. My arm wraps around his neck, as I pull him down to me. Our lips part, as that taste of our skin on skin mix. He is frantic with his kissing, forcing my head to spin and reel around with him in a pattern I can’t figure out.
As our mouths link, his arms frantically feel at my body. He explores every inch as if he has never felt it before. And as he grips my ass with the strong palm of his hand, I feel myself floating upwards into his grasp. My legs circle his hips, and he walks us slowly towards the cabana. My back hits the mattress first, followed by his body crashing gently on top of mine.
He straddles me, giving me the opportunity to lift his shirt up and over his head. In the night sky, I can make out the spirals of the tribal tattoos that dot his shoulders and chest. There’s an arrowhead over his heart, the sign and brand of an Apache. My fingers trace the outline, as he watches me in wonderment.
Tank kisses me again, a parting kiss, as he sets off on a trail down my body. He passes my velvety neck through the crevice of my breasts, his hands pushing my tits together so he can take in even more of the smell of me. He then heads south towards my stomach, tickling lightly with his tongue as he goes. When he hits my hips, I’m already gone. They rise to meet him, begging him to remove the panties.
But he stops. He doesn’t throw or tear them off. Instead, he kisses at the extremely thin fabric. I feel him circle under me, going lower to my slit. I can feel the hot air of his breath linger on my velvety skin as I cry out. I can’t stand this tease.
He speaks into my covered flesh as he asks, “Do you want my mouth on you?” I can barely get my “yes” out. But it’s not enough for him. “Beg me.”
I pause, unsure of how to go on. I want him, no, I need him down there. Every part of my body is sinking further into this bed, waiting for him. As he waits for me, his fingers part my lips through the seam of the panties.
“Beg me,” he tells me again.
This time, I don’t hesitate. “Tank.” He inches the fabric down slowly. “Oh God, Tank. Please!”
“Please what?”
“Take me.” I reply immediately. “Go down on me… please!”
“Whatever you wish, Sierra.” The way he says my name, the words brushing over my tickling skin, sends me reeling. It’s slow, deliberate, passionate.
I feel his forefinger hook under the lace line of the panty and pull it down over my thighs and knees. He then parts my legs gently, as he positions himself in between. I look up and over my body to see him taking one look at my pussy, fully exposed for his own viewing pleasure. He pauses before lowering himself down. He takes a breath, sucking in the air around my legs. And then I feel it—the soft embrace of his tongue.
It dances on my outer skin, tracing lines around my vulva. But it’s not just the tip, it’s the entire tongue streaking across me from top to bottom. When it makes its way to my slit, I hear him murmur to himself—a sign that he’s found out my secret. I’m already sopping wet.
One hand quickly joins his mouth, parting the skin for him like an open door. When his tongue is in, the fingers linger, finding my clit underneath the thin layer of skin. As soon as he hits it, I’m no longer in control. My hips rise and then fall back to him as he pushes down to keep me still. He goes in again, this time holding onto me as tightly as he can.
His tongue replaces his finger on the clit, as he flicks lightly at the little nub. It moves with his mouth, back and forth. He then inhales and kisses it, taking it into his mouth just as he had done with my own tongue moments earlier. The sucking is too much, as I reach down to his head to pull him away. But his arms are too much for me as they slam my hands back down into place.
I feel the pressure of a finger enter my slit. His hands are rough, but they feel perfect against the sensitive folds of my insides. It smoothly finds its way in while he continues to tease at my clit. A second finger enters, stretching me even more. Every part of me feels as if it is being ripped away, and I love it. He begins to speed up, pushing those fingers harder and deeper as his suction only grows tighter against my skin. I grit my teeth as my toes curl, my back arches, and the fire within me sparks.
“Tank!” I call out his name, as I explode onto his hand and mouth. My skin tightens and relaxes quickly as it pushes out all of my orgasm. I struggle to keep my head from spinning as he continues to push into me. This time, his tongue does all the action as he goes in for a taste of what my body has made for him.
Tank eventually comes up from air, as I can see just the top of his head bobbing a bit by my knee. I pull him up by his neck as he takes my mouth into his. I’ve never tasted myself, but my salty sweet liquids mix with his own taste, and I’m completely overwhelmed. I push him away and look at him in his night sky eyes. “Fuck me. Please, Tank. Fuck me.”