Rising Heat (Outlaw Biker Boys) Page 7

  I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, rather surprised at myself. I had never dreamed like that before. Never experienced the physical pleasure that a mere dream could initiate. But oh, how real that dream had seemed! His lips on mine; warm, soft, caressing, yet commanding at the same time, evoking more response from my own.

  The sensation of his palm circling over my nipples; his index finger and thumb gently squeezing, teasing them to full hardness. Followed by the sensation of his warm, wet tongue swirling around that hard, erect nipple, me reaching upward, aching for his touch. And while his fingers and his mouth had focused on my breasts, the fingers of his other hand had explored my abdomen, slowly making their way over my mound, caressing and massaging me with long, gentle strokes. Slick and wet, his fingers slid easily into my depths. And then my hips started to rock.

  My heart accelerated just thinking about it, just reliving the dream. I lay with my arms down by my sides, my fingers clutching the sheet beneath me as I closed my eyes and relived every moment. The way his tongue had brought me near to screaming with pleasure as I experienced masterful oral sex for the first time. The heat of his tongue on my pussy, dipping into my slit, then suckling my clitoris before he started the cycle all over again. Not stopping until I exploded on his tongue.

  When he pulled away, I immediately missed his warm skin against mine. I felt alone. I craved his warmth and his touch. Even for those brief seconds, I missed the skin to skin contact.

  I didn’t have to miss him for long.

  The pleasure of his weight pressed me into the mattress, and I welcomed every ounce. With his knee, he separated my legs, settling himself even deeper between my thighs. I felt his hipbones. My hands clasped those hips, pulling him closer, needing his body to merge with mine. Our mouths connected, seeking, searching, taking, giving.

  He deepened the kiss, and I felt his erection pressed against my inner thigh, throbbing with desire of its own. I can’t deny that I felt a special sense of power knowing that I could evoke such a reaction in him. He wanted me. Me. I felt the evidence.

  “Fuck me,” I’d said, surprising myself. Although normally self-confident, I was less so when it came to sex. But I wanted him. Needed him. Lifting my hips, I begged him with my body as much as my words.

  I screamed when he plunged into me, his thick, engorged cock spreading me wide. Then I laughed, a deep, throaty sound as I spread my legs farther, wrapped my heels around the back of his thighs, and then, just to emphasize how powerful I felt, grabbed his ass, pulling him deeper inside me.

  He chuckled deep in my ear, sending another surge of pleasure through me. I was on sensation overload. His mouth. His cock. His chest pressed onto my breasts. The warmth of his breath when he whispered my name. I rocked my hips, circling them, trying to pull him ever deeper inside me with each thrust.

  “Deeper, Ash!” I urged. “Harder!”

  He obliged, balanced now on its hands above me, our only point of contact where our sex connected. He stared down into my eyes, his jaw clenched as he sought to please me, the veins in his arms bulging, the ones in his neck throbbing. His lean hips, thrusting, his stomach tightening at the culmination of every stroke. His ass was rock hard as he plunged into me, harder, faster.

  Even now, just imagining that oh-so-vivid dream, I felt myself grow wet. My pussy throbbed. My nipples arched upward in invitation, but there was no one there to suckle them. Nevertheless, I closed my eyes. Refused to touch myself. Wanting to see just how far my imagination, this fantasy, would take me in my half-awakened state.

  It took me all the way.

  My grasp tightened on the sheets while my body rocked with the power of my fantasy, of the way he shifted positions and his cock touched something so deep inside. I pulsed, then exploded through my orgasm. One so powerful, I lay there, panting, my pussy throbbing with contractions, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. Whoa.

  Finally, after my heart rate returned to normal and I lay there on the bed self-satisfied, I wondered what it would be like to make love to Ash in real life. Had I given him superhuman powers in my fantasy, or would he live up to expectations? I realized that I wasn’t being quite fair. After all, how could anyone compete with a fantasy?

  With a sigh, I finally dragged my lazy ass out of bed. I only had to work until lunchtime this morning, so I would be off by twelve-thirty. Then I would meet him and see what happened next. I didn’t even care that I’d be meeting him so close to the pet store. Who cared if one of my employees saw me. What I did on my own time was none of their business.

  Trying to shove thoughts of Ash out of my mind, I showered, shaving extra close. I tried to tell myself I wasn’t paying special attention to my bikini line for him. It was just way overdue. By a lot.

  Dressing quickly, I took a last look in the mirror. Was that a smug expression I saw reflected back at me? Probably. Was it because I knew that people would be surprised to see someone like me hanging out with someone like Ash? I growled at my reflection. There I was doing it again, putting both of us into boxes. Just because he had tattoos and looked a little rough around the edges and rode a Harley didn’t mean that he was a bad boy. The smug expression transformed into a smirk. Who was I kidding?

  I wondered what he did for a living. Did he work at a gas station or was I presuming, just because of the way he’d been dressed, or half-dressed when I saw him, that he had a low-paying blue collar job? For all I knew, he could be the CEO of a company. Again, shame on me for judging a book by its cover.

  It didn’t matter anyway. I’d see Ash today, and that would be it. It was better that way, I told myself, keeping him as a fantasy lover. I would drink coffee, talk, then leave. When we separated, I wondered if he would give me a handshake, or maybe a hug? How did one say goodbye under such circumstances? What if he kissed me? Would I kiss him back?

  Aggghh!

  I had to stop this. Just stop over thinking everything. I was driving myself crazy. It. Was. Just. Coffee. If he’d wanted more, he’d have made that apparent when I was in his loft with him, alone. But no. He hadn’t flirted, hadn’t made a pass, hadn’t taken advantage of the situation.

  Was I disappointed?

  I refused to answer that question. Instead, I went to work and kept myself busy at the store, waiting on customers, stocking a row of shelves, pulling receipts, you know, the usual stuff. By the time twelve-thirty rolled around, my stomach began to rumble. I was starving. I clocked out and headed out of the store, weaving my way among the teenagers, the families, a few elderly couples out for some shopping. It was a lazy, warm Saturday afternoon. The crowd at the movie theater at the other side of the parking lot was thickening. Many people went to the movies on Saturday afternoons here, mainly to get into some air conditioning. Back home, I would’ve been heading for the beach.

  When I turned toward the section of the parking lot where I’d parked, the heat tried to melt me. It wasn’t that hot outside, but being in the air-conditioning all morning made it seem warmer than usual. I paused at the edge of the sidewalk before I stepped off the curb, digging my hands into my pockets for my keys. I always liked to have them ready. I didn’t usually carry a purse. Instead, I’d shove my cell into my front left pocket, my keys into the right, and my small man’s-style wallet into my back pocket. That’s it. Simple.

  Just as I stepped off the curb, I noticed three guys on motorcycles about twenty yards from the front entrance and for a moment, wondered if Ash was here.

  I looked closer. No. He wasn’t with the group, and I felt the sting of disappointment. After today, I wondered if I’d always see a motorcycle and think of him.

  The motorcycles looked big, black, and shiny. They weren’t running, and the guys were just sitting there. The one facing me smoked, while the other two were turned toward the other entrance. One of them had a shaved head. I immediately thought he might be a neo-Nazi, but then again, maybe he just had a shaved head. There I went, jumping to conclusions again.

  They all wor
e jeans and black jackets, and I wondered how they weren’t sweating their armpits off. Taking another quick glance, I noticed the large round logo in the center of the back of the jacket. A skull with two six-shooter-type revolvers held up on either side, clutched in skeletal fingers. The word “Outlaw” was emblazoned in black lettering on a white background on a half arc above the skull emblem.

  Great.

  A motorcycle gang hanging around the front doors of a huge discount store. I wondered how long it would be before the cops showed up, then mentally smacked myself again. Here I was turning these men into villains when, in all likelihood, their girlfriends or wives were inside, picking up something for a picnic with their kids.

  Dang. I really was judgmental. Much more than I’d ever realized.

  My stomach sank when I made eye contact with the one facing me. It sank further when he tapped his buddy on the arm, and the two other men turned to look at me too. One of them stuck out his tongue, wiggling it suggestively.

  Gross.

  I took off for my car, the hair on the back of my neck prickling. I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder to see if they were still looking. No sense in drawing unwanted attention to myself or having them think I was afraid. Or worse, interested.

  I walked quickly, but forced myself not to run, even as I continued to feel their eyes on my back. Or was I just imagining it?

  Risking another glance, I realized I wasn’t. They were still there. Watching.

  I quickly got into my old Honda Accord, locked the door, and jammed the key into the ignition, sighing with relief when it started on the first crank. I was really rattled today. My fingers even shook as I reached for the transmission.

  I guess I was just anxious to meet with Ash. To spend time with him and get his obligatory coffee meeting out of the way and over with. I wondered if, in the light of day, he would make me feel as safe as he did in the darkness.

  My belly did that little flip again as I remembered his arms around me as he removed the snake. Even in the chaos of being thrown over his shoulder, I’d also felt protected, as if he were a physical barrier to anything bad. Not that I expected him to protect me, but I knew, just by looking at him, that Ash would be more than capable of protecting anyone if protection was needed.

  I pulled my car out of my space and slowly drove toward the exit. To my surprise, the rumble of several motorcycle engines erupted into life. I glanced in my rearview mirror and the bikers were only a short distance behind my car.

  Gripping my steering wheel tightly, I forced myself to stop looking in the mirror and concentrate on what was ahead. I turned right out of the parking lot and merged into traffic, praying the men didn’t follow. To my remarkably intense relief, the three motorcycles turned left, their engines roaring as they disappeared in the opposite direction.

  Idiots. I was including myself in that word too. I was an idiot for being so paranoid.

  It only took me a few minutes to reach the coffee shop where I’d agreed to meet with Ash. Now I kind of wish that I had canceled. All I wanted to do was go home, curl up in my bed and fantasize about the sexy biker I could never have in real life.

  A minute after I parked, the rumble of a motorcycle engine made my heart give a little thump. For an instant, I wondered if it was the men from before. Then I saw him, waiting for the light to turn before he rounded the corner.

  Because of the noise his bike made, people automatically looked. Ash didn’t seem to notice the attention. From my car, I watched as he passed through the intersection and maneuvered his way into the parking lot of the coffee shop. Tattered, white-washed jeans. Black biker boots. Dark blue t-shirt and well-worn jean jacket. A dark blue bandanna tied around his forehead. Black Oakley or Serengeti sunglasses shaded his eyes.

  He must have remembered my car because he headed my way, the engine getting louder by the second. Around him, some people stared, some shook their heads. I felt uncomfortable, suddenly at the epicenter of unwanted attention.

  I couldn’t help but feel annoyed. Why did his motorcycle have to be so damned loud? Couldn’t he just drive a car like most people around here? He would have a car living in Denver, wouldn’t he? Nobody in their right mind drove a motorcycle in Colorado in the wintertime. The blizzards, the blowing snow, the black ice. It would be asinine to even attempt to ride a motorcycle in those conditions.

  When he pulled up in a spot in the space next to my car and turned off the engine, I breathed a sigh of relief. As he climbed off his bike, removed his sunglasses, and tucked one of the ear pieces down into his shirt, people still stared. Not so much with annoyance anymore, but curiosity. He was extremely good-looking.

  In the daylight, I saw that he had a nice tan, and his hair was windblown, not pulled back in a ponytail as it was last night. His long legs striding toward me made me remember the sensations he had evoked in my dream fantasy this morning. I felt the heat of a blush creep up my cheeks. As I watched him approach my car, I frowned at his bland expression. He wasn’t scowling, but he wasn’t smiling either.

  Was he regretting setting this up? Or maybe he wasn’t sure of my reaction. Perhaps he was simply surprised that I showed up at all. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  I reached for the car door and opened it, surprised by the feeling I got when several people drinking coffee at one of the outside tables did a double-take. I barely resisted the urge to grin. No, I wasn’t interested in a romantic relationship or even a one-night stand with Ash Bascom, but you know what? I couldn’t help but feel a tad bit superior to be seen with him. And special.

  “I have to admit I’m kinda surprised that you actually came,” he commented.

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Did you think I was going to stand you up?” Without waiting for him to reply, I offered a shrug, not wanting to lend importance to the comment. “I never turn down a free cup of coffee. Besides, I just got off work, which isn’t far from here. It was convenient.”

  He said nothing but merely nodded, then gestured toward the doors of the coffee shop. Walking next to him, I realized once again just how tall he was. I came up to the middle of his chest. In fact, if he was standing in front of me without a shirt on, I think my eyes would’ve been leveled at the top strand of barbed wire tattooed just about equidistant between his collarbone and his nipples.

  As we stepped to the door, I was surprised when he took a half step in front of me and opened the door. He stood back to let a middle-aged couple through, then gestured for me to enter in front of him. Okay, so he had manners.

  “Want a muffin or a bagel or a pastry or something with your coffee? Then we can sit outside if you want.”

  Although I was hungry, I shook my head. “No, just a cup of coffee, please.”

  “Pick your poison.”

  I didn’t even have to think about it. “I’ll take a skinny caramel mocha, please. Small.”

  He nodded as he stepped to the counter. He ordered the caramel mocha for me and a large black coffee for himself.

  “Name?” the barista asked.

  “Ash.”

  The barista, a young girl who couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen, glanced shyly up at him, stared a moment, then nodded. She wrote his name on both cups in black marker, then busied herself making the order. Ash paid the cashier, then we stepped to the side to wait for our coffee. Neither one of us said anything during the wait. I could feel curious eyes on us. Well, on him, mostly. Maybe curiosity when it came to me. What’s she doing with him?

  It didn’t take long for our order. Ash took them both, then gestured outside toward the patio. There weren’t a lot of people outside, most wanting to be inside to escape the midday heat, but I welcomed it. Based on his tan, Ash liked it too.

  This time, I opened the door and held it open as he stepped through, making his way toward a small table near the end of the building, away from the drive thru window. He placed both cups down on the table, then waited until I sat down before he did. Indeed.

&n
bsp; “You like the sunshine, don’t you?”

  He glanced at me in surprise and then grinned. Oh my God, why did he have to do that? The flash of white teeth. He had dimples. The twinkle in his eye. How could I not be attracted?

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You’re tan, for one. For two, the fact that you wanted to sit outside. I get the impression that most people think this kind of weather is outrageously hot.”

  He shrugged. “When you grow up in a place that gets as cold as it does here, anything above seventy-five feels hot. Where do you come from? You a Colorado native?”

  I took a sip of my coffee and shook my head. “San Diego. I’ve not quite spent an entire year here, so I’m still trying to get acclimated to the weather.” I didn’t want to say too much about my personal life, but that was an innocent enough question. Turnaround was fair play. “Were you born and raised in Denver?” He didn’t answer but simply shook his head no, sipped his coffee, and looked toward the street past my shoulder.

  I said nothing, not feeling particularly inclined to break what I considered a rather awkward silence. He took a couple more sips of his coffee and then turned to look at me. “I want to offer an official apology for the way I acted last night, Kathy,” he said. “It was boorish of me to demand that you bring a tank over just when you were closing up.” He shrugged. “I can be an asshole sometimes.”

  Boorish. The way he said it, with that slight tone of distaste. His mannerisms. He spoke well. He was educated, I sensed that.

  “I have to admit that you’re the first to ever made such a demand. Normally, I wouldn’t have agreed, but I just got promoted to assistant manager. I’m not quite sure about the limitations of my duties or what’s expected of me. My boss can be kind of… well, sometimes he can be quite a jerk. To be honest with you Ash, I was afraid that if I didn’t do what you asked, you would call and complain and I’d get fired. I can’t afford that.”