Feeling Steele

Brodie and Ashe

 

 

 

BEER. SWEAT. OIL. SEX.

All the finer things in life.

And the scent of Ashe—a little spicy, a little sweet—the finest thing in life.

Back at Myrtle Beach Bike Week, in the Suck Bang Blow Roadhouse. The place we’d started. And in no way whatsoever the ending.

With Boomer and Rayce on babysitting detail—Cara, now twelve, scoffed at the term baby—Ashe and I had complete freedom to ride when we wanted, party when we wanted . . . and more importantly fuck when we wanted.

As the music grew louder and the commotion more raucous in the saloon-type bar, I set our beers aside, pulling my gorgeous wife into the mad mix on the dance floor. I chose a rock ballad so I could hold my woman tight and close.

Too many roughnecks had been leering at her like she was free game, regardless of the fact I kept a very possessive arm around her at all times.

Not that I hadn’t gotten my fair share of obvious looks that were nothing short of invitations to hook up and get raunchy.

I wasn’t interested in gettin’ raunchy with anyone but my missus.

Securing Ashe against me, I moved with her to the song, cradling her pelvis with my groin, her tits against my chest.

My hands slid to her waist, the strip of bare skin beneath her T-shirt soft as silk and way more tantalizing. The damn T—bearing a Triumph logo—was an old one she’d slashed to bare even more tempting flashes of skin. And her nipples poked the thin material, bra clearly not in evidence.

“Fancy meeting you here, Detective.”

Her pretty eyes flickered up, sparkling with mischief. “Want me to pat you down?”

“Most definitely.” I hitched her closer by the seat of her ass, grinding my cock against her.

“I remember how much you liked it the first time.” Her hands roamed to my back and up to my shoulders, drawing her firm body even tighter to mine.

Her lips skimmed along my throat, and her tongue tickled my earlobe.

But my attention was caught by some asshole ogling her ass. I cursed in a harsh tone.

“What?” Ashe asked.

“I don’t like all these schmucks staring at you like they wanna take you for a ride. And not on their bikes.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” she murmured with a sultry smile that said she’d definitely noticed.

“Bullshit.”

“Mmmm.” Her lips curved even more.

“What?” I bit out the word between my teeth like I was gnawing on rawhide.

“I love your eyes.”

“Tryin’ to change the subject.” I dragged her infinitesimally closer. “And my eyes ain’t the only thing you love.”

Ashe kissed the other side of my throat all the way up to my jawline. “You’re not wrong.”

The dancing continued, grinding, rocking, touching . . . kissing. If we were horizontal we’d be fucking. In fact, if I had a wall to press her against we’d be fucking.

“Are you gonna give me some steel later?” Her hand reached between us, one lone fingertip traipsing lazily along the thick rod of my cock until she must’ve felt the Prince Albert piercing in the blunt engorged head of my dick.

“Give you some right now if you wanna head out to the parking lot.”

No joke there.

Ashe, with her rocking body—so fuckin’ fit. Blonde hair and all the earrings and the tiger lily tat I kept getting glimpses of through the tattered T-shirt. Skin glistening. Wearing ripped jeans plastered to her legs. One frayed tear so close to a plump ass cheek I kept tilting my head to get a better look.

Detective Ashe Kingston-Steele was definitely off duty for the weekend.

We danced through another few songs, sexual heat radiating between us. I ordered a couple more beers, hoping to cool down. But that was impossible. Nothing would cool the fire running through my body, the fire caused by Ashe. Always, always Ashe.

Later we watched some drunk tool on the mechanical Harley—just like a mechanical bull but for bikers—with Ashe plastered against my front, her ass nestling my dick.

“I’m up next.” She grinned over her shoulder at me.

“I swear to fuck, if any dickhole starts throwing dollar bills at you, I’m draggin’ you to our hotel room and fucking you through the wall.”

“I can’t wait.” She flicked a saucy smile my way as she sauntered toward the ring.

Growling, I tried to keep the jealousy to a dull roar when she lasted on the mechanical Harley past the sixty-second mark. She drew an ever-increasing crowd of shouting, salivating bozos. Her tits bounced all around, thighs flexing, hair lashing back and forth.

She finally got knocked off, and I was right there to help her out of the ring, holding her against my chest to the sound of roaring cheers. Making it clear she’s mine.

“Oh, stop looking like I just ran over Twatson with my motorcycle.” She linked her arms around my neck, mentioning the cat otherwise known as Watson. “Besides, who am I going home with?”

“Me.” I acceded, grudgingly.

“And who’ve I been going home to, and with, for years?”

“Me.” I brought her hand to my lips, kissing the engagement and wedding bands then the heart of her palm.

“Are you taking me back to the hotel now?” She hit me with flirty eyes.

“Most definitely.” I guided her through the tangle of people, the MCs out in full force from all over the country.

Even the parking lot heaved with folks continuing the party outside amid lines and lines chrome horses, hogs, and choppers.

“Race ya!” Ashe challenged, straddling her dope Triumph.

“Bring it, babe.” The engine of my Harley Cross Bones Night Train roared to wicked life.

Thundering onto the road, we paced one another, neck and neck, on the way to our hotel. But at the final intersection, she ghosted me, gunning through the last stages of a yellow light while I throttled down—caught on red.

I couldn’t help but laugh. I loved Ashe’s competitive spirit, and I knew I’d be in for some good lovin’ soon.

She’d already unstrapped her helmet when I pulled up beside her, tires smoking on asphalt. Not as smokin’ hot as her.

Just about throwing off my brain bucket, I dismounted, grabbed her hand, hauled her into the hotel lobby. The Amalfi Inn, same place we’d first fucked all those years ago. Upgraded the room to a suite, though.

Ashe was a definite upgrade in my life, too.

Hitting the elevator, I didn’t even wait for the doors to slide closed before I pounced. Hand climbing beneath her shirt, I cupped a sweet tit, tweaking the hardened point of her nipple while I launched an attack on her mouth.

She mauled me right back, driving her hands into the back of my jeans, clasping my ass, licking my lips and sparring with my tongue.

I barely managed to open the door of our suite before she tackled my shirt, tearing it up and over my head that I lowered to help her out.

Door closed, I kicked off my boots, and Ashe pushed me until my back hit the wall.

A chuckle rose from my chest. “I take it you want it rough?”

She yanked off my jeans and socks, hands on my thighs, face at cock-slapping level.

She said nothing, and my heart beat faster, my cock visibly harder.

A secret smile danced across her lips as she rose. Turning her back, she left me where I was, and I didn’t know whether to follow her or not, but she definitely had plans, and I was willing to wait and see what she had in mind.

Because my woman could be kinky as fuck when she wanted to be.

And I was all in.

“I’m waiting, Brodie,” she called out from the bedroom less than a minute later.

Led by my cock, the skin of the helmet pulled tight around the PA piercing, I entered the room to see her standing beside the bed. In all her naked glory. Just the tiger lily ink an intricate colorful design around her slim curvy hips, belly, and back.

Eyes slits, pussy with a narrow puff of curls, tits high, nipples taut.

And handcuffs dangling from her hand. Standard issue. Same damn things I’d used on her once to prove she loved me as much as I loved her.

I swallowed hard and my dick throbbed even harder.

“No way.” Raspy and low, my voice had barely any resonance.

“Yes way.” She clanked the metal cuffs.

Defiant . . . challenging . . . hot.

Standoff.

“On me?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Obviously my troublemaker cock thought it was a fan-fuckin’-tastic idea because the dickstick at my groin pulsed out a drop of precome that glinted off the steel piercing.

“Fuck.” I shuddered, the snake and dragon tats on my arms visibly rippling.

“That’s the idea.” Ashe swung her hips, swung the cuffs, approaching me until her nipples—hot pink points—settled against my hair-roughened chest.

“Dammit.” Giving in, I exhaled a deep juddering breath. “Where do you want me?”

“Where do you think?” Her lips teased my neck, and the metal brushed my cock.

I swallowed, walking to the bed. Bouncing onto the center of the mattress, I watched, eyes half-mast, as my delicious woman quickly and efficiently bound my wrists to the head of the bed.

“Nice and”—she bit my nipple—“tight.”

After testing the handcuffs, she straddled me, her cunt slippery on my tensed abs.

I bucked up, giving her a grin of my own, but the truth was, I could’ve come in an instant if she’d even so much as touched my dick.

Lying over me, Ashe dangled a tit in front of my face. I tried to reach the pink button, but she pulled back, laughing. Then my eyes darted lower, drawn by her fingers rolling down her tummy, landing on her even pinker clit.

That nub swelled, and she sexily gathered wetness on her fingertips to lay a glistening track around the little pearl, thrusting her hips outward.

“Ashe.” My nostrils flared.

My arms jerked.

My thighs pulled up, giving her a backrest.

“Mmm?”

“Sit on my face.”

Moving sensually, she kneeled above my head. She rolled her hips, teasing me with her fingers still playing along the pretty cunt I wanted saddled on my mouth.

Finally, after I’d grunted and swore and ached to feast on her, she slowly lowered those soaking sweet pussy lips to my mouth.

The sound that tore out of me when she made contact was inhuman.

Lapping and sucking, I angled my jaw, rubbing my goatee against her inner thighs, her inner lips. Tongue thrusting deep, I flicked her inside, mouth widening to take her red-pink precious hot cunt with my whole mouth.

No hands.

Nearly nutting myself. No hands.

When she sat fully on my face, her back arched, a drizzle of sweat dazzling down the center of her tits. I pushed up harder into her. Wriggling and gleaming, she came so intensely I grinned, happy to be trapped beneath her.

Raking breaths into her lungs, she prowled backward. Her tits pulled over my nipping lips. Her mouth slid against mine, her tongue tasting the juice she’d left on my face.

Strident breaths pumped in and out of my chest when she crouched above my meat she held almost daintily between her fingers.

“Are you ready?” she asked, voice low, eyes hooded, hips snaking back and forth.

The woman basically had me humping air. “Sit that sweet pussy on my cock unless you want my load all over your belly.”

Jaw clenched.

Fists balled.

Muscles bunched.

I bellowed when she sheathed me in her tight wet depths on the first plunge.

“Brodie!” Her hands fell to my chest, short nails scratching.

Her cunt clutched me inside.

The piercing got her every fucking time. G-Spot tickler.

My eyes rolled back in my head, and I pulled against the cuffs, lunging up so hard Ashe bounced.

She whimpered, sitting up to ride me with a roll of her hips, a dip of her cunt . . . and I met every move, roaring when she crashed down to catch my lips with hers.

Come spurted, violently. Her body wracked against me, quivering.

I beat my head back, feeling no pain. Nothing but pure bliss.

Eventually Ashe unlocked the handcuffs. She rubbed my wrists, kissed them, kissed my hands, my chest . . . kissed my lips as she settled beside me.

“You are the most beautiful man,” she whispered, one leg settling between mine.

“You are the most amazing woman.” I rubbed my jaw against her hair, hugging her so close we’d never be parted.

****

We’d roused enough for a shower, another round, a snack, and a nightcap when I searched out my phone somewhere within all the messed-up bedcovers and missing pillows.

“Who’re you calling?” Ashe propped up on an elbow, blonde hair still damp.

“Boom.”

“You talked to him earlier.”

“I wanna make sure our kids are still alive and he and Rayce haven’t screwed them up too much.”

“My rough tough biker man with a huge heart . . .”

“Not the only thing that’s huge.” Lounging against the pillows I’d rearranged, I pointedly looked downward.

“I noticed.”

“Yo.” Boomer answered the phone call, single syllable as always even though I kept buying him those word-a-day calendars for Christmas.

I started to say “Howdy” when Ashe migrated south.

Way-fucking-south.

Her hands ran down my chest to my abs, and her lips sailed to my ribs before sucking along one side of my Adonis belt.

“You there, Brodie?”

I grunted. The monosyllabic one for a change.

Ashe had reached my cock. The other huge hard thing. She stroked the engorged rod around her face, whispering the steel-hard flesh across her wet lips and over her cheeks.

“Well, the girls are good. Cara cooked with me tonight, and Roxy—”

Boomer yammered on. And Ashe bent low—ass up—her pursed lips cruising over the blood-flushed head of my cock.

My eyes popped open then slammed shut when she sucked, slowly, wetly, lower.

I almost crushed the cell phone to dust.

“And we got Roxy on the potty today. She didn’t take a piss, but we gave her M&Ms anyway. Uncle’s prerogative.” Boomer, yadda yadda.

Oh my fuck! Ashe was gonna suck the come straight out of my nads.

I nodded, a whisper of an un huh escaping my throat.

My hand fell to Ashe’s head, hips striving up when she swallowed down.

“Brodie, is Ashe there?”

I cottoned on enough that Boomer sounded suspiciously suspicious.

“YES!” My voice was embarrassingly high-pitched because I was trying so hard not to groan.

His laugh belted out. “Hey, Rayce! Brodie’s getting a blowie.”

“Let me talk to him.” I heard her say.

“Hell no. You’re not gettin’ on the phone with my brother while Ashe gives him a hummer.”

“Fucking hate you,” I husked out.

“Me or Ashe?”

Noises broke free of my mouth, increasingly loud. “Ashe. Fuck.”

Then she hummed.

“Hang on. I’ll put Cara on the phone.” Boomer was hahaha funny. Not.

“No!” Swearing, sweating, straining all over my body, I tried not to spray Ashe’s mouth full of come especially when she toyed with my piercing using her tongue and teeth.

I cut off the call seconds before blast off. Clasping both hands over her head, I held her down, watching her take it, take my come.

Afterward, Ashe licked her way back up my body, the same path as before so much more sensitive now.

“You’re . . . in . . . sa—” I friggin’ stuttered, eyes shuttered low, body in la-la-land.

“Insane?” Ashe winked, swallowing visibly.

“So good.” I draped a hand over her back, pressing her near.

“You wanna head home early, don’t you?”

“Tomorrow after the charity run?” Curling around her with my arms and my legs, I tossed a blanket over us. “I miss ’em. Our girls.”

“And that is why I love you.”

****

I couldn’t even face Boomer when he dropped Roxanna and Cara off the next day after Ashe and I got home. I was sure he’d be wearing a knowing smirk; he and Ashe were probably laughing about that goddamn phone call right now.

“Hey, Dad.” Cara cruised into the kitchen, playing it all cool, Twatson rubbing against her ankles. “So, Uncle Boom said he’d take me to Coletrane to get my first tattoo.”

“What?” Immediately fuming, I stalked from the kitchen, on the warpath for Boomer. “Tattoo? Oh hell no.”

“Brodie?” Ashe turned from the front door as I barreled down the hallway.

“Did he leave already?”

“Boomer? Yeah. What’s this all about?” She blocked the door.

“Something about our Cara and her getting inked. Did you know about that?”

“Shut it down, Brodie.”

“What? Next thing we know Roxy’s gonna get her ears pierced and—”

Ashe gave me that damn Mrs. Detective look, and her look centered on my inked sleeves then the crotch of my jeans concealing my pierced cock. Basically calling me out with a little pot-kettle-black without even saying a word.

I flapped my hands in the air. “Jesus Christ. You girls are gonna kill me.”

“So that’s like a yes?” Cara had watched the exchange from the other end of the hall.

“Talk to me when you turn seventeen. Not one single second sooner. Hear me?”

“I’m still more mature than you.”

I might’ve almost stuck my tongue out at her, but then Roxy waddled over from the living room, finger stuck in the corner of her mouth.

She waved her other hand, blonde ringlets bouncing, singing, “Dada!”

Fuck. It felt like an arrow pierced my heart. Crouching down, I opened my arms, taking the little muffin against me and swinging her up.

Out of nowhere, Cara shouted, “I knew you loved her more than me!”

She stomped off, taking the steps to her bedroom two at a time.

I balanced Roxanna in one arm, dragging my other hand down my face, thoroughly confused. And just then, the goddamn doorbell rang. Shit, I’d already forgotten I’d called Wyatt’s folks to tell them we were home early if he wanted to come hang for the afternoon.

One hour home and already total chaos.

I probably wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Ashe started upstairs to calm Cara’s ruffled feathers.

“I’ll go,” I said, kissing Roxy on the cheek before handing her over. “You sort out Wyatt? Oh, and ask the ’rents if they let him have soda. He always says yes, but I can’t tell if he’s lying. He’s got me hoodwinked.”

“Got it. And I knew you’d take care of things with Cara—she’s got you wrapped around her little finger too.”

Upstairs, I rapped my knuckles on Cara’s door before daring to enter the tween’s abode. Just thankful there were no Justin Heebee Jeebee Bieber posters on her wall.

I walked over to where she’d rolled—armadillo-style—on her bed. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Her voice sounded snuffly.

“Look. Hormones happen. I grew up with Cat, right? So I get it.”

She huffed.

“Plus I married your mom. And she can be a hot mess.”

Cara laughed. “Don’t make me smile right now.”

“I promise to make you frown and angst all over yoursadself and get on Facebook and tell all your friends how horrible I am. How’s that?”

She shrugged, but the ball untightened a little.

“Look, I love you, Cara. Every time you call me Dad, every time I get to fill out father on your school shit . . . you don’t understand what a privilege that is to me.”

I sucked in a jagged breath and swiped my eyes against my shirtsleeve.

“You are my daughter. Blood or not.”

She threw herself into my arms, hugging hard.

“Okay.” I patted her back. “Now let’s go kick the soccer ball around, as long as Roxy and Wyatt can join us.”

“Wyatt’s here?”

“Just arrived. Thought we’d all chill this afternoon. If you’re done sulking.”

She smacked me on the arm, and I pretended to flinch.

“I’m cool with that.” Cara slid off the bed.

“Good. Because we still gotta get you to the Olympic soccer team. And Wyatt ain’t so bad either.”

“He’s pretty good. He’s kind of . . . cute too.”

“Let’s not go too far.” Because boyfriends, like tattoos? Just no.

Later, Ashe led Roxanna into the backyard, onto the pitch, and I stepped off. Cara and Wyatt rushed over to smother her with attention.

“Sissy!” Roxy said everything with an exclamation point.

Cara kneeled to hug her quick, then she and Wyatt helped her kick the ball, basically making sure it was in front of her little feet all the time so she could be the star player.

I found Ashe’s hand.

She caressed my wrist.

We watched Cara and Wyatt help Roxy, all three towheads sweaty, grubby, and gleeful, make a score in the back of the net.

“We’ve done good.” Resting her cheek against my shoulder, Ashe brushed her hand across my chest.

I kissed the top of her head, hooking her closer to me. “So much better than good. More than I ever expected. Fucking awesome.”

And for once she didn’t correct my language, because she was swiping a tear from her cheek.

 

What happens at Bike Week stays at Bike Week. Or not. And I’m so damn glad it didn’t.