Breaker
“You get her in line, Breaker. You’re an enforcer. You should know how to keep a woman in line…” I’m on minute twenty of Biggs’ lecture, and quite frankly, it’s becoming nothing but a long stream of bullshit. He continues on, though, even as my eyes glaze over. “The situation with Wesley can’t happen again. She’s just a little bitch. She’s not worth breaking the fucking club up over it!”
Finally, I can’t take it any longer. I find myself standing up and walking towards the door with my back to Biggs. He spins me around with his hand. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Breaker? You dare to walk out on me?”
“Yeah,” I snap, my nostrils flaring. “I’m walking the fuck out of here. I’m done with you scolding me like a kid. I’m not a fucking kid. I’ve been in this club for fifteen years now. I know the rules. You know I’m loyal and wouldn’t do shit to bring it down over some girl.” I sigh as I add, “If you can’t see that, then I’m more than happy to take my services elsewhere.”
“Don’t be such a fucking bitch,” he snarls. He walks back towards the dresser and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one up, he continues speaking through the fresh smoke. “She’s a nice pair of titties and has a sweet little ass. I’m more of a blonde kind of guy, but that’s what the boys want nowadays.”
“What’s the goddamn point, Biggs?”
“The point is that when we get to Texas, we’re going to need new avenues, and she could be a start. You keep her in line, or I’ll make the decision to send her out walking with the rest of the ladies I’ve got lined up.”
“You wouldn’t,” I respond in disbelief. “You gave her your word that she could work for you fair and square.”
He laughs, but it catches in his throat, and he ends up hacking up half a lung before he can continue. “If you’ve been in this club as long as you say,” he says, a quiet menace seething through his voice, “you know my word means shit to anyone but real club members. I can do whatever the fuck I want to do with her if it’s good for business.”
My blood boils as I growl back, “She’s my woman now. You agreed. Whatever decision you make goes through me.”
He lifts his hands in defense as he continues to shake with laughter. Bitter sarcasm fills his voice and darkens his face. “Oh, I hear you,” he says with a nasty grin, “I really hear you, Breaker. She’s your girl.”
Again, I’ve had enough. I walk back towards the door, swinging it open in a rage. I walk the short distance back to my motel room, not caring about the few men watching me from their windows or Henry waiting for me outside. I’ve had to deal with too much shit today as it is.
I shut the door behind me and peel back the bedding, which is still a mess from earlier—it even still smells like Aimee. In the room next to me, Biggs turns the volume up on his TV again. I turn off the lights and try to drown out everything, including the thoughts running rampant through my head.
A few minutes pass, and I hear the click of the door. Someone fumbles with the lock, shaking the handle. I sit up straight, wondering if this was Biggs exacting some revenge. I reach for the gun I placed earlier on the bedside table, and my hand wraps around the handle.
“Who the fuck is there?” I ask louder, puffing out my chest.
The door clicks again, unlocking this time. A beam of light creeps in, and a figure appears. My grip tightens on the gun until I hear her voice.
“It’s me. It’s Aimee. Henry said I should sleep in here tonight.” The door shuts, and she enters the darkness.
I watch her shadow sit down on the old upholstered chair near the desk. “Can I borrow a blanket?” Her voice cracks as if she’s been crying; though I can’t imagine a girl like her shedding any tears no what matter the reason.
“Why don’t you just sleep here?” I say before I can stop myself.
“Are you sure?”
Even she senses my reluctance.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Just lay down. We’ve got a long day tomorrow, and we’re both going to feel it in the morning.”
Without a word, she slips in next to me, and I notice she must have stripped down on the chair, as she’s only wearing her bra and a pair of panties. Her sun-kissed skin is still warm, though. We both lay facing the ceiling, neither turning towards the other nor rolling away. Eventually, she falls even more still, and the small amount of light on her face shows that her eyes are closed, with her lips slightly open.
Hours pass where I do nothing but listen to the sound of her deep breathing into the pillow. It’s oddly comforting, though, in the past, the last thing I have ever wanted is someone laying next to me like this. I’m not one for body heat and compromising the middle part of the bed. Most girls got kicked to the curb the minute I pulled out of them. Still, I listen to each breath, eventually counting them down until my eyes finally grow heavy and her breathing becomes my breathing.
….
“Good morning Colorado! It’s another beautiful day out there. Sunny, high of eighty-two, and not a cloud in sight. For all of you already out on the road and on your way to work, here’s a song to start your day off right…”
The bedroom fills with the sound of some 70’s pop song I vaguely recognize playing over that damn alarm clock I forgot I had set yesterday. I moan into the pillow as I look over at the time. It’s a little after eight. No one should be that goddamn cheerful this early. I slam my fist into the clock until I hit the right button.
“Can you fucking believe that? Why can’t it just be an alarm and not set to some whack-ass…” I turn towards the side of the bed where Aimee slept last night, but there’s nothing. “Aimee?” I call out several times, hoping for a response.
I glance over at the mirror directly across from the bathroom. It’s steamed up, but I can make out the door of the bathroom cracked open just a little. The sound of the water beats in soft rivets, and then there’s a voice. Shit if I can believe it, but Aimee is in there, singing. I don’t recognize the lyrics. They’re in a language I’m not familiar with, but she murmurs the words to herself as she tries to find the tune. She’s about as good a singer as she is a motorcycle rider.
Throwing the blankets off of my legs, I force myself to be fully awake. I stretch my arms wide into the air and then pop the tense bones in my neck and back, just as I do every morning. The hangover I predicted I’d have isn’t too bad. I manage to get up and out of bed with no problems before stumbling my way towards the bathroom.
“You know, you suck at singing!” I call out from outside the door. The water and her humming suddenly stop altogether. “No, no, no. Don’t stop on my behalf. I actually enjoy listening to you butcher some native folk music.”
“It’s Hawaiian,” Aimee finally responds as she turns the water back on. “It’s a war chant.”
“That sounds appropriate.” I slip even further into the bathroom and see the outline of her naked body through the glass screen. She runs her long fingers through her soaking wet hair. Her tits rise up with her arms, and I can even make out the buds of her stiff nipples.
I lick my lips as I slowly pull back the screen. She doesn’t turn, but by the raised bumps on her body, I know she senses I’m near.
“You know,” I say, as sly as I can, “We have to get going. The motorcade leaves in about an hour.”
“I take warm showers when I’m hungover. If you want me to be in any condition to ride, you won’t bother me.” Aimee’s tone seems reluctant, but she peers over her shoulder at my naked body with eyes that seem to glow against her wishes. Her arms circle her breasts, and she further hides under the showerhead. As if that is going to stop me.
I laugh as I reach over her, grabbing the motel’s blue, slimy shampoo and body soap. Our bodies touch, my cock grazing over the top of her hip. She doesn’t shy away or fall limp against the tiled wall. Instead, she places a hand on my arm, taking the body soap bottle from me. Facing me, she pours a small amount into her hands and rubs them together until it forms a lather. Without breaking her steel-like glare, she begins to wash her body, reaching down to massage her ankles and toes and then moving up towards her thighs, her stomach, and her tits. Her whole body becomes covered in streaks of silky white bubbles, obscuring all the right parts, almost like a dress I’m dying to peel off.
When Aimee is done cleaning herself, she walks into the stream of water and repeats the process, this time, moving down with her hands and splashing the excess soap off of herself. I can’t take it anymore. When she stands up, I practically maul her. She doesn’t even have the chance to get a good breath in before our bodies are mashing against the wall with the G-force of an oncoming rocket. My arms wrap around her bare skin as she claws back into mine. We kiss with open mouths; our tongues locked in a wrestling match. Near-scalding water beats onto my back, but the pain feels even better with Aimee’s legs wrapped around my hips.
I break into a smile as I begin to move her into position like a rag doll. I wrap her arms around my neck while my stiff cock is already at attention, angled towards her wet opening between the crook of her legs. She moans, relenting, before reaching down to stroke it between the kisses I plant on the line of her clavicle. Her wet, soapy hands feel as smooth as silk as she strokes and gently tugs at my member. My hands let go of her legs as I am forced to brace myself on the wall for support.
Aimee looks at me, her lips slightly pursed, as she asks, “Do we have time for this?” Her eyes float down to my cock molding in the palm of her hand.
I let out a long, primal groan that comes from a place deep within me. I chuckle. “Girl, we always have time for this.”
Aimee’s legs fall back down to the ground, and she pushes me back so that I am standing out of the direct line of the water. She passes through the stream and clears away the dark strands of her hair that cover her face. She pulls the bundle of hair to the side before falling to her knees on the shower mat. With both hands on my cock, she leads it towards her waiting mouth.
At first, she only takes the tip. She sucks lightly, spinning her tongue around the opening. But she gets bolder with every bit of my ten-inch cock. She flicks, flutters, circles and traces my dick centimeter by centimeter until it fits neatly into her tight, suctioning mouth. My breath escapes me as I lean my back against the cold subway tile for support. “Fucking hell, Aimee…”
She laughs, and the vibrations echo through my shaft. It’s a sensation I’ve never felt before, but I want her to talk more. I want her to read me a fucking book with my cock stuffed in that pretty little mouth of hers. But she doesn’t linger long on my cock. The girl slips her lips off and replaces them with her hands. They knead at me while she plunges down towards my stiff balls.
Not every girl would be willing to take this on, but she fearlessly places one into her open mouth. It bounces around with her tongue, moving to the pumping motion of my cock. As her grip gets tighter, so do her lips around my most sensitive skin. I pound a fist into the wall, needing to hold on to this moment. I am not about to come here until I take back control, but with every stroke and lick, she is making it impossible for me to remember that.
When she finishes, she heads back north, taking my pulsating cock back into her mouth. She buries it within her until I see only the rim at the bottom remaining. If she is going to get me, I am at least going to show her how I want it. My hand pulls at the makeshift ponytail and with a yank, I take the reigns. I lead her with each slow, delicious stroke, her lips still doing most of the work. Her head bobs up and down with my guidance, but it’s me that is fucking her now.
Again, I cannot control myself anymore. The sight of her on her knees, her giving into me without complaint or argument—it’s just too much.
I have to have her. And I have to have her now.
I pull back, my cock flying out of her with a sticky pop. I reach down, grabbing her under the arms and lifting her up and off her feet. We spin so that she is the one facing the back of the shower and her arms and legs grasp around me for something to hold onto.
Before I enter her, I reach between her spread legs and massage at the folds of her clit. Whether it be from me or her earlier rub down, her pussy is soaked and ready; the lips swollen with anticipation. She moans once more through gritted teeth, and her head falls down between her shoulders.
“Do it,” she commands, pressing down hard on my shoulders.
I aim my cock directly at the entrance of her pussy, rubbing the skin with the tip, as I get ready to plunge in deep. She squirms back, her legs and hips shimmying against me. I lean down, taking her pink-brown nipple into my mouth and nibbling at the tip as I push myself into her. She screams out from the pain, her whole body flying upwards with the thrust. I don’t let her go, though. My hands wrap around her back and shoulders as I caress that sweet skin.
Each shove into her sends her closer to me. The angle gives me perfect opportunity to plow straight up into her tiny little snatch. How she calls out with her head resting on my shoulder, I can tell she is still raw from last night’s round. But I couldn’t care less. All I need is to feel her from the inside out.
Even from the chill of being wet, I still feel the heat rising in both of our bodies. Both of us are on fire with drops of sweat sticking to our tanned skin. The work of holding on to her as she bounces up and down on my cock while balancing in my arms is taking a toll on me, but I can’t let go. Not until I come. I feel her arms grow tired and her legs begin to shake. With each firm thrust into her, she cries out my name.
“Breaker! Hold me! Breaker! Fuck! Yes! Fuck me!”
I slap her ass with the palm of my hand, bringing her back to the present.
“Tell me what you want, Aimee!” I demand with panting breaths.
Aimee gazes into my eyes. “Fuck me like one of your other girls,” she suddenly says. “Fuck me that hard, and then fuck me harder. Make me squeal. Make me even sorer.”
Her nasty mouth plants onto mine, sucking me in for a long, hard kiss. We both slowly float to the ground, but I can’t stop. My cock drives into that velvety cunt without relenting. And that’s when I hear it. She sighs first, so loud that it sounds as if she’s letting go of all the air in her body. Then comes the scream—from deep within her and heavy with wanting. Her orgasm spills out as her nails dig into me, her toes curling around my hips, and her pussy tightening around my cock.
The feeling is too much, and I can’t help but let myself go right alongside her.
“Jesus, Aimee! I’m gonna come!”
Between our two bodies, my cock spills out onto her stomach, leaving lines of my semen on her smooth skin.
We both fully collapse on the cold shower floor. She lies on top of me as we move out of the line of the water. She shivers, and I place my arms around her almost on instinct.
“We should get going,” I say.
“Yeah,” she replies, throwing her hair over her right shoulder. “You’re right. We don’t want to keep a pack of wild motorcyclists waiting for us.”
Aimee pushes off of my chest, leaving an imprint of her body on my cool skin. I watch as she opens the screen door, releasing a waft of steam and fog. She grabs a towel from the rack and steps out.
She is right. Both life and danger are waiting for us out there. It was another day, another ride, and another chance to keep Aimee from killing the both of us.