Shelter From The Storm (The Bare Bones MC Book 6)(31)
In the parking garage, our group had swelled to about fifteen scoots. There were a couple of guys wearing cuts that marked them as members of The Friends of Distinction MC out of Las Vegas. Fox told me they were like a brother club to us. But for some reason they looked meaner than us, maybe because they wore chains and ball peen hammers around their waists. They didn’t even make the slightest effort to hide their large caliber pistols stuck down the back of their pants.
Wolf was there, apparently having ridden two up with Tracy. I wondered how he’d stolen her away from Tobias. There were also a couple of guys from a club named The Bent Zealots. They seemed well-mannered, and Fox said they were actually a gay club. That intrigued me.
But I didn’t have much time to ponder on their sexy asses, because Ford was standing on the seat of his bike, yelling like a referee. “All right, you bastards! The Bare Bones are heading for Winnemucca. Anyone is welcome to come with us. We’re one band of brothers connected at the heart.” He pounded his heart for emphasis. “But we’re not stopping for one more dickhead cop ticket.”
“Yeah!” shouted a few guys like Duji, Faux Pas, Sax, Knoxie, Wild Man, and Speed. They all cast daggers with their eyes at Gollywow. And that’s how I found out what a Fast Riding Award was. It was not good.
But the enthusiasm, the power in that parking garage was unbelievable. Fifteen men and fifteen women fist pumping and roaring. Women climbed on the backs of men, hanging on like baby possums. Men started their engines and revved them like the starting line of the Indy 500. It was wild.
Ford’s last vows were, “If any pigs stop us, we fight! Anyone not willing to fight can just stay here and swim in the f*cking pool and gamble all their money away like a scum-sucking rat bastard.”
I was so excited I actually grabbed Fox’s arm and jumped up and down, rubbing my tits against his bare skin. I didn’t want to risk looking at his reaction, but I was unbelievably aroused by the show of brotherhood, the feeling of belonging. Right behind me some loud numbnuts bellowed,
“The sun never sets on a Bare Bones patch!”
Normally I’d be annoyed—my ears were going to ring all day now—but when I turned around and saw it was the amiable Wolf Glaser, I just laughed even harder. Fox grabbed me right back—in front of everyone!—and effortlessly lifted me by the waist. I easily slid my arms around his neck, still unsure of his intention.
He was smiling too, carried away with the emotion of the moment. He had to shout to be heard above the yelling, the tailpipes. “I’m glad you came with me, Pippa. Whatever happens, I’ll see that you stay safe. I’ll hunt down anyone who tries to hurt you.”
And then he kissed me.
It was a bruising, punishing kiss, full of pent-up lust. It only lasted for a few shocking seconds, but it was like he had poured part of his soul into me. I nibbled lightly on his shapely lips, letting his soothing being ooze into me. Spearing my fingers through his thick, glossy hair, I reveled in the luxury of the moment. I had never felt so safe as in those few seconds.
He broke the kiss, grinning to beat the band. I’d never seen the serious, thoughtful man this happy. He even slapped me on the ass then, commanding me to “hop on board, woman.”
He didn’t know I’d inserted those Ben Wa balls earlier that morning, just to see what the motorcycle’s vibrations did to me.
Well, let me tell you. Don’t try that at home, kids. Between the balls bouncing around in my cunt walls and my clit mashed up against Fox’s tailbone, I nearly came off about a dozen times. It was hard to keep a straight face, and I spent a good deal of the ride just leaning against Fox’s satiny back in a sort of half-conscious state, smiling lazily like a sloth.
We’d hooked up with at least six more bikes of the Friends of Distinction by the time we rumbled into town. But true to Fox’s word, he broke off from the club’s route and found a safe parking spot one street over in the lot of an old-timey casino complete with murals of the Pony Express. Between the hangover and the Ben Wa balls, I was ready for anything, and I wobbled in my new cowgirl boots when Fox gave me a hand dismounting.
He noticed. “You okay?”
I nodded fuzzily. “Let’s see the sights.”
We were immediately in the midst of a display of beautiful motorcycles, none of which I knew anything about. Fox schooled me on the difference between a touring class of bike and a builder class, and I was blinded by the amazing paint jobs on some “trikes” and sidecars. We shoved our way through crowds of bikers smelling of hot leather and pot smoke, and tons of women much better built than me in miniscule leather bras. They were brassy women, loud and inked, and I didn’t feel I was a thing like them. I was a simple girl with lank, straight hair, no ink, and barely enough to fill a regular bra. It made me feel small and insignificant.
Fox gazed fondly at a Harley Sportster with alarmingly high handlebars he said were called “ape hangers.” “I used to have an ’04 like this. One of the things I hated to leave behind in New Mexico.”
In my rattled state of mind, this must have sounded like an opening to me. “You said you were a real lawyer there. Why’d you have to leave?”
He crooked a grin at me. He put an arm around me to move me off down the street. “If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.”
“Not really.” I persisted, like a brat. “I mean, you know my deepest, darkest secret. I trust you not to tell anyone in Pure and Easy. Or anyone, period. I know next to nothing about you, but you’ve given me the best orgasm of my life.”