SOFIA SOL

Barely a sliver of moonlight traces over our naked bodies, entwined in a bed of overgrown grass that nobody here has time to mow. A knotted oak tree hides us all the way in the farthest reach of our enormous backyard behind the dilapidated plantation we Ciphers call home.

Our home. All of us.

Including the sweaty young hunk on top and inside of me. We’re not supposed to be locked like this. And for good reason.

So they say.

Sex is a line we’re forbidden to cross with each other. It’s not like he and I are genetically related.

We aren’t.

But we might as well be.

From my earliest memories he’s been in my life.

They all have been, those voices we can hear in the distance while Melodi cooks jambalaya for the Ciphers as they drink from ice-cold beer cans, celebrating and not noticing our absence. The laughter is riotous. After we make it home safely from a dangerous job like today’s, it’s party time. But their guffaws and back-slapping and bets would halt if they knew who was making me moan like this.

My father would lose his shit.

My mother might be worse.

I swear she was put on this planet to ride my ass.

And his dad’s biker name is after the most fearless creature in the Guinness Book of World Records. With those three at odds, if they found out we fucked, bloody fists would be inevitable. That’s part of what makes this so damn hot.

I moan as he pushes inside me, and he groans the sexiest sound a woman can hear.

We’ve obeyed their strict rule about no sex, for years. Out of respect to the structure. The elders rule the Ciphers, as they should…I guess. Hard for me to submit to any kind of authority, and I’m not alone in that. We all have that character flaw—it’s why we’re so happy here among a bunch of law-breaking bastards and bitches.

Motorcycle clubs are families of a wilder sort that no normie can understand. Some of us are joined by blood. Others by bond alone. We’d die for each other. Some of us have.

We’re just not normal.

Never will be.

Never want to be.

So how fair is it that we’re made to stay platonic? We train together every day, get sweaty, sneakily eye droplets sliding down hard muscles and ripe curves. For years!

Enter temptation.

Enter succumbing to desire.

Enter, finally, me.

My back arches under his body of rock and muscle and discipline. His cock is long, not thick, which was surprising considering how stocky Atlas is. But it feels fantastic. In the darkness we move like animals, his length stroking inside me with an urgency, aware of the time.

I peek back at the sound of my father’s laughter. “He’s not coming out here, is he?”

Atlas stops moving and cranes his neck. “Nah, they’re all in the kitchen still. Just stop moaning so loud.”

“I’ll try,” I grin, running my fingers up the cords of back muscles. “Lie to me. Say they’re coming outside.”

“They’re walking up,” he growls. “How’s that?”

“So good,” I moan, gripping him. The sizzle builds in my core, pools in my thighs, wrapping them tighter around his rock hard ass. “The forbidden, fuck I love it!”

“I knew you’d feel this good, Soph,” he growls, pulling my head back by my hair. He sucks on my extended tongue and we immediately deepen the rough kiss, the first we’ve ever shared, devouring each other. It feels a little weird, if I’m honest.

“You hear them?” I moan.

“Yeah.”

“They could come out any minute!”

He grins and pummels me. “We worked up an appetite on that mission.”

I grab his thick bottom lip, give it a nibble, and release it. “We sure did.” He serves me ten long strokes making me writhe, everything burning. Suddenly I feel his nails threaten to cut my skin. My hand flies up. I slap his face, hard. “No marks!”

He grins, challenges me, “Afraid?”

“Try that one more time and this will be the last time you fuck me. Got it?”

The wicked smile evaporates. “Won’t happen again.”

We start to move and he takes his anger out on me, fucking me with his bruised ego. I like it more than any woman should.

My breaths get ragged and I buck underneath him. “Atlas, come on, why are you holding back?”

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do,” he snarls, falling for my plan to get him riled up more. “You’re not the boss of me!”

Oh, but I am.

Grabbing his earlobe with my teeth I hiss, “Make me cum!”

He goes nuts.

Moaning, I crane back and bite my lip, core pulsing in thick bursts. His shaft is filled to capacity, thrilled by my challenges, cutting a memory into me that we’ll have for the rest of our lives. But I don’t want to think about that right now.

I add for good measure, “I’m your little bitch!”

“That’s fuckin’ right!” He captures my neck with his teeth. Not too hard, just a taste. He won’t leave a mark and risk never being inside me again after I warned him. “You’re my dirty little bitch. Your sweet, hot pussy, I love it. Ah fuck!” he groans as his orgasm nears.

“Martinez, don’t you dare come inside me!”

He gives the most amazing wince. “I’ve got this.” But his lip’s curled and dark eyes flash with lust and heat. “Steady,” he groans to himself, “Steady now.” He’s watching my face as I near the edge, and his changes, eyes flickering. “You’re so beautiful Sofia Sol, you know that?”

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear that shit right now.” I smack his bicep, grip it, and arch up to kiss him. “I’m close,” I whisper, “Don’t bring up sentimental bullshit and ruin it.” He digs his knees into the backs of my thighs, circling his sculpted hips, his cock begging pleasure from my body. “So close…so close…oh oh ooooooh!” My pussy tightens, clamps down on him in hot pulses, mind going numb and eyes rolling in the back of my head. “Yes!”

He grimaces, fights the urge to join me.

His inner animal is disciplined a lot more than mine is. His father taught his two sons well how to control themselves. I’ve seen it on the missions, and now I’ve had my first taste of it in sex.

I wouldn’t have chanced this if I couldn’t bank on that control. I’ll be damned if Atlas causes a war by leaving a baby in my belly.

Because I’d keep it.

And then where would we be?

Stuck.

No, thanks.

As the throbbing wanes ever-so-slightly, the first signs that I’m coming down, I shove him off of me. Atlas reacts with shock, until I dive and take his cock in my mouth to finish him. Sucking and licking his slippery length, I taste myself and love every second of it. It’s meant to be this good. It’s supposed to be dirty. It’s supposed to be fucked up.

To drive him absolutely insane, I cup his tender sack and press on the skin just behind it. Poor guy has to bite his arm to stop from roaring as hot semen shoots between my lips in thick pulses. I tease the intensity of his orgasm to lengthen it as long as I possibly can. It only ends for guys quickly when they’re in their heads, think you don’t enjoy it, or when they don’t give a shit about you. But I’m a woman who loves to get men off, and that trait will melt even the most jaded male.

On the road I’ve taken more lovers than I can count. I’ve also lost track of how many have cried when I casually announced I was moving on. They didn’t bawl or beg because they particularly liked my company. I’m not easy to spend time with. I’ll tell you my opinion even if you don’t want it. My standards are high, but unpredictable. Some things matter very much to me, and other things that might to another woman, don’t. But you never know which until I make it really fucking clear.

I’ve been called a bitch, a whore, a cunt, a demon, the devil incarnate, insane, dangerous, fucking crazy, out of my damn mind, and once…a sociopath. That’s the only one I argued with because it was so far from the truth that it pissed me off. Sociopaths don’t feel anything. They don’t experience other people’s pain. They’re the serial killers of the world whether they’re actually taking lives, or just emotionally and spiritually killing people for the sick fun of it.

I’m not a sociopath in even one cell of my being. I feel more than I want to, and I fight for those who can’t fight for themselves. We all do here. You’re not a Cipher if you don’t give a shit.

“Sofia!” my mother calls from the house. “Dinner!”

I’ve just eaten, thanks.