HAWK
Fallen Gliders MC, 2
Lynn Burke
Copyright © 2018
Hawk
I sat on a barstool waiting for my drink, toothpick between my teeth, my Fallen Gliders brothers’ voices and the bar’s din a buzz in my brain. Bikers and women meandered by the picture window I sat in front of, but no one of interest snagged my attention.
Sturgis drew all sorts—one percenters like us, motorcycle clubs, and rider clubs, but my favorite were the wild women looking for a cock to fill their cunt—or ass. At least, that’s what I used to enjoy about Sturgis.
Getting pussy had always come easy for me as a teenager, but the day I earned my colors and put the FG logo on my back, I no longer had to go looking for it. The club whores were always up for a hard fuck, but as the years passed, I’d grown bored with their fake-ass moans and gaping holes. Even Jonny, our president and my best friend waiting to down a whiskey beside me, agreed we needed new blood in the club.
We’d been in Sturgis for almost a week, and I hadn’t fucked a single woman. My outlook on life sucked the previous couple of months, to the point the thought of having my cock shoved down a willing throat or burying myself balls-deep in some random cunt didn’t even twitch my dick. I felt like a windblown leaf with no sense of purpose, no desire for sex or companionship. I’d taken to drinking harder stuff than my usual beer but knew the slump I floundered in wouldn’t end well unless I decided to pick my ass up and figure out my life.
Perhaps today’s the day, I told myself, picking up the shot of whiskey our waitress sat in front of me.
A flash of red-brown hair drew my gaze to the far left before I could pop out the toothpick and down my drink. A little butterfly with gray-green eyes flashing along with her wide smile. Dimple, full lips, high cheekbones—a fucking model in a tight tank and Daisy Dukes.
My cock thickened inside my leather pants, and my head turned as she slowly passed by the picture window, her face animated and lips moving as she chatted with her friends, the joyful gleam in her eyes snaring me tight. She radiated life, an exuberant, light step while I wallowed in my shit life.
Jealousy and yearning for what she experienced clenched my chest, and I found myself rubbing a hand over tattooed pecs I spent hours sculpting on a daily basis.
The little butterfly passed beyond the window, and I sat back, not realizing I’d leaned forward to keep her in sight.
“Finally see something worth fucking?” Jonny asked with an elbow to my ribs.
“Fuck, yeah. Reddish hair—not the dyed kind—and tits out to here,” I said around my toothpick, holding my hand out a few inches away from my chest. “Young and full of life.”
One of Jonny’s eyebrows rose. “What the fuck you sitting here for?”
I hesitated to glance around the group of men—fellow Fallen Gliders from across the States, discussing the lighter aspect of business. A large meeting had taken place the night before, the heads of the chapters sitting down to discuss the future of our club. Just more depressing shit to pile on life.
“Go on,” Jonny encouraged, elbowing me again.
I hopped off my stool and pushed my way through the crowd for the front door. At six-foot-five, I had no trouble seeing over most of the heads bobbing to my right as I stepped out onto the sidewalk.
The roar of mufflers and cranking music from Christ knew where filled my ears as I breathed in the scents of exhaust, sweat, and cheap perfume in the night air. I took a half-dozen steps to the right, scanning the crowd of people on the sidewalk in front of me before pulling up short. No fucking way I was going to find her unless I acted like an asshole and shoved people out of my way while hurrying the way she’d gone.
Curses flew from my lips while I turned back toward the bar. A voice in my head sang a country hit, reminding me that if we were meant to be, it’d be.
“No fucking luck?” Jonny asked as I slumped back onto the stool.
My scowl sufficed for an answer.
Tipping back my head for the whiskey burn didn’t help my shit mood. Neither did the bloody burger and pile of fries fifteen minutes later. Thoughts of the little butterfly warred with depression in my mind, and I called it an early night, leaving my brothers behind. The quietness of the hotel didn’t offer anything but a hot shower where I could blow the load that had been building in my balls for weeks.
At least I had a semi-purpose … find the vivacious little butterfly and steal some of her joy in life for myself.
For the next two days, the memory of the mystery woman’s eyes haunted me, causing my dick to stay in a perpetual state of stiffness. Jerking off only gained me an hour or two of relief, before the need for a real pussy swelled me to the point of pain again. My fucking balls ached with the need to explode into a tight cunt until my cum leaked out of the abused hole. It fucking sucked that the thought of anyone but the fluttering little butterfly didn’t do jack shit for me.
In those two days, I could have easily pounded into a handful of willing women, but I wanted more. I wanted the woman with life flashing in her eyes. I wanted those pert tits of hers wrapped around my cock as I shot my spunk up over her face.
Jonny and I along with a few others from our club rumbled into town mid-morning and found places to park. We’d seen all the bikes, clasped countless hands and shoulders, and taken in more than an eyeful of painted bodies with nothing more than tassels or stickers covering the owners’ nipples since arriving in Sturgis ten days earlier.
No fucking shame, those women.
I used to love it.
I climbed off my bike and led the way into the bar we’d agreed on for lunch. Since I considered myself Jonny’s secret service agent, my head swiveled as I took in the people around me, eyes and ears alert for any bullshit. As I’d reached the open door, I cast one last look down the sidewalk to my left.
The little butterfly and her two friends crossed the road, laughing with a lighthearted carelessness that clenched my chest again.
I pulled up short.
“The fuck?” Jonny cursed as he bumped into me.
“It’s her,” I muttered and lit out after the three, uncaring I left Jonny and my brothers behind. Within ten seconds, I lost sight of the butterfly and swore under my breath when I reached the sidewalk. I bumped and shoved through a handful of people, but same as two nights prior, I fucking lost her in the crowd.
Hands on hips and cursing under my breath while clenching a toothpick between my teeth, I stood alongside the street, scanning for a glimpse of red-brown waves.
Bikes rumbled by, and I recognized one of the blonde girls clinging to a biker’s back. Sure enough, the third bike carried my little butterfly. She, too, wrapped her arms around the biker’s waist.
Someone’s old lady, I told myself as they drew near, deflating my cock. Fuck. A one-percenter, The Silent Demons, our fucking rivals, I noted as the first bike slowly passed by. I shifted my gaze back to the third bike as a slew of curses flew past my lips. Why them of all fucking people? Why not some random biker hitting Sturgis for the first time?
Butterfly’s gray-green gaze landed on me.
My breath caught, and I stared back, everything stilling around me, falling to a hush in my ears like in a fucking movie. I couldn’t have torn my gaze from her if I’d tried. An electrical current of awareness and fucking lust simmered the ten feet or so between us as the bike her thighs hugged slowly rolled past.
She turned her head, her gaze flitting down over me and back up as I stood, hands still on my hips, unmoving except for the throb in my cock. A smile lit her eyes, and she fluttered her fingers at me as the biker turned right, taking her away.