Chapter Eleven
Marie
The ride to Coeur d’Alene surprised me.
For one, it seemed to take forever because riding on the bike was work. I had to hold on and pay attention the whole way and given all I’d gone through that day, it wiped me out.
On the positive side, I didn’t have to talk to Horse.
We stopped twice at rest areas so I could pee and Horse could make phone calls. I watched him, feeling naked without my phone. They’d taken it from me, along with my car keys, and I didn’t get the impression I’d be getting it back. Horse didn’t tell me what the calls were about and I didn’t ask. I also didn’t know where the other Reapers were or how my brother was doing. All I cared about was staying upright on the bike.
By the time we pulled off the freeway in Coeur d’Alene it was dark. I didn’t pay attention to where we went or our route. I did notice that we drove through several populated neighborhoods near a very big lake before turning off on a narrow road through the woods. Buildings grew sparse. Horse pulled up to an old farmhouse, complete with quaint-looking outbuildings and a big red barn.
So not what I expected from a biker.
Horse cut the engine and I got off stiffly, trying to stretch.
“Is this your place?”
“Bought it three years ago,” he replied, walking past me toward the wide, covered porch, which had a swing, for God’s sake. Like something on a country postcard. It wasn’t fancy or big, but it was very well cared for and I suspected it had been painted within the last year or so.
I grabbed my backpack and followed him through the front door. I found myself in a living room furnished in what could only be called “man cave”. Big flat-screen, giant comfy L-shaped couch, four different remotes on the coffee table and a poster on the wall of a naked woman straddling a motorcycle backward, flat on her stomach and cheek resting on the back seat.
I hadn’t known bikes and human women could have sexual intercourse, but that was the clear implication. Lovely.
There was a hallway going straight back to what I assumed was the kitchen. A flight of stairs hugged the left wall of the house, which is where Horse headed. I really, really didn’t want to follow him.
“Get your ass up here.”
All-righty then.
I trailed him up the wooden stairs, which were covered in the center with a runner so old you couldn’t even tell what the original pattern had been. Horse flipped on the light and stood on a landing big enough to run the full width of the house, waiting for me. A person could’ve put some chairs and a little table in there, but he just had boxes piled around. Three doors led to other rooms, two toward the back of the house and one toward the front. He pointed toward the front room.
“That’s mine. Stay the f*ck out of it unless you’re invited.”
“Okay.”
“This one’s the bathroom, here’s your bedroom. There’s another bathroom downstairs if you need it, next to the kitchen. Don’t flush the toilet if someone’s in the shower, the pipes are old. Go put your shit away and meet me downstairs. I’m hungry.”
I had a vision of him showering and me deliberately flushing, suddenly burning him. Maybe I’m a bad person but it made me smile. Horse narrowed his eyes at me, suspicious. I ignored him and went into my room. It was small and plain, with aged and scuffed wood floors, cream-colored walls with old-fashioned trim and two sash windows. A queen-sized bed took up most of the space, covered with very modern bedding—you know the type, one of those bed-in-a-bag things with a giant fluffy comforter that you can get for cheap at Walmart. There was a small dresser against the wall opposite the door with a mirror. A small closet stood open on the right.
The place was lifeless, which I appreciated in a way. It would be easy to put my stamp on it, even given how little I owned. I liked the idea of having my own space, separate from Horse and all the confused feelings of anger and lust that came to life whenever I saw him.
I unpacked quickly because I was hungry too, and the last thing I wanted was for him to come looking for me in the bedroom. I still wasn’t sure what his expectations were for the night. Probably not good to give him more ideas than he already had.
When I went downstairs, I found the TV on to some sports network but no sign of Horse, so I wandered back toward the kitchen. Sure enough, a door on the left led to a small bathroom under the stairwell. Double pocket doors defined the dining room opposite, which held a full-sized pool table instead of a dining room table, complete with a light hanging over it with beer logos. Definitely man cave.
That’s why the kitchen startled me so much.
I reached the end of the hallway to find what had to be the cutest kitchen I’d ever seen—like something out of a country-style magazine. Serious reality disconnect… Horse stood in front of the fridge, pulling things out and putting them on a large, wooden butcher’s block in the center. A wrought iron rack dangling pots and pans hung high above it and there were stools all around.
In a normal kitchen that would have taken up a ton of space, but this one was so huge you hardly even noticed. Horse had an old-fashioned farm kitchen, practically a living room in and of itself. Off the back I could see a door leading through a mud room. The walls were bright yellow with cutesy, chicken-themed wallpaper edging near the ceiling. The curtains over the windows were sunny, gingham-checked ruffles edged with lace.
“Who helped you set up the kitchen?”
“My mom,” he said, not looking at me. “She wanted to do the whole house, but once I saw this I made her stop.”
“Why? It’s a lovely room, Horse,” I said, heroically holding off a laugh. It felt good to tease him—it eased the tension just a bit. Horse turned and looked at me, all badass biker in his boots, jeans and leather Reapers’ cut, face black with stubble and hair tossed by the wind.
“I made her stop because I don’t have a p-ssy and I didn’t want to start growing one,” he replied, voice testy.
Fair enough. I couldn’t keep the smirk off my face though.
“Make me some food, I’m gonna go take a shower,” he ordered. My mouth opened automatically to protest his tone, but I caught myself and snapped it shut. Horse held the power in this relationship, not me. It would be easy to forget that—I’d gotten too comfortable around him.
I searched through the fridge and cupboards, finding enough food for sandwiches. I would need to hit the grocery store soon if we didn’t want to starve. By the time he finished his shower I had everything ready and had spent several minutes debating whether or not to start eating without him. Fortunately Horse came back down before I could make the decision, hair all wet and slicked back. Without a ponytail it just brushed the tops of his shoulders. He wore a faded pair of sweats low on his hips and nothing else.
Damn.
I don’t know how long I stared at him, just taking in the tattooed, muscular glory that was Horse almost naked. He broke the spell.
“Glad you like it.”
“What?” I asked, confused.
“My body,” he replied, smirking. “It’s the only one you get to look at or f*ck, so it’s good the package works for you.”
I blushed fiercely, turning away to grab the plates and put them on the block. He took a seat and grabbed his sandwich. I did the same, trying my hardest not make eye contact with him. That was more difficult than it looked because he sat right across from me. He was big and bare-chested and I really, really wanted to take a closer look at those tattoos. I’d seen them before, but not enough to satisfy my curiosity.
“You want a beer?” he asked, standing and walking over to the fridge.
“That sounds good,” I replied, giving myself permission to check out his ass. Nice. He caught me looking as he turned around, but just handed me the bottle and we ate in companionable silence. I drank a second beer and started to feel a lot more relaxed. After we finished eating, he helped me load the dishwasher, perfectly civilized. Sometimes it felt like Horse was two different people—a badass biker jerk who gave lots of orders and a sweet, sexy man who made my body feel things Gary couldn’t even imagine, let alone spark.
Which guy was real?
“You want a shower?” Horse asked.
“Yeah, I think so,” I replied. “Been a long day.”
“Use the bathroom upstairs, it’s nicer than the one down here.”
I nodded and left the kitchen, where Horse wiped up the table and counter like a perfectly normal person. So weird.
Just my luck—no lock on the bathroom door.
On the bright side, the bathroom had clearly been upgraded at some point in the recent past. In fact, looking around I was pretty sure it had been another bedroom at one point, that’s how big it was. All the fixtures matched the house perfectly—big, claw foot tub, and old dresser/vanity that had been converted by putting in a sink basin surrounded by a marble top. There was a sash window on one side, and the fact that it didn’t have real shades bothered me until I realized there wasn’t a chance of anyone ever seeing me in here. Just too far up and in the middle of nowhere.
In addition to the tub was a giant, modern shower stall with jets on both sides and a long bench. It should have been out of place, but somehow it all fit together. The best part? A big skylight that would illuminate the entire room beautifully when the sun was out. I couldn’t help but wonder how a bathroom like this wound up in an old farmhouse.
Horse’s laundry still sat in a pile on the floor, so I picked it up and threw it in the hamper. I figured I would probably be doing the laundry and wondered if he had a washer and dryer. I hadn’t seen any, but I hadn’t seen the mud room yet. All in all, the house might be a little rough in places but it was definitely comfortable. Certainly better than the trailer, and with a lot more potential than the place I’d shared with Gary.
Go figure.
So, the lack of lock was a problem, and as much as I wanted to give that tub a test run, I didn’t feel comfortable with it. Instead I stripped down and hopped in the shower, where I was pleased to find shampoo, conditioner and body wash. They weren’t my usual, but they’d do until I could get to the store. Thankfully the shower had lots of hot water, although it took awhile to reach the second floor. I soaped up my hair and rinsed it, then followed with conditioner.
The door opened and Horse stepped in as I started with the body wash. I should have seen it coming, I mean how predictable? I’d been worried about the tub but honestly didn’t see the shower thing coming. I guess I’m too pragmatic—he’d already showered, why would he want to shower again?
Duh.
Anyway, I shrieked when I saw him, a shriek he shut down quickly enough by grabbing me and lifting me up into his body. I wrapped my legs and arms around him instinctively as he pushed me against the shower wall. Then he took my mouth and I no longer had any doubts how this evening would end.
How to describe that kiss?
Well, it was rough and deep. His tongue thrust into me over and over, and I felt his penis gliding across my slit as he restlessly pumped his hips in time with his tongue. I’d love to say I didn’t enjoy it, that I was a poor little victim of the Big Bad Biker, but that straight up isn’t the truth. I caught fire and would have rubbed myself against Horse like a cat in heat if he weren’t holding me tight. As it was, I dug my hands in his hair and I tilted my head to take him deeper.
One of his hands slid down my back, moving along the crack of my ass. He grazed over my rear entrance and I jumped, but he kept moving down. Then his fingers entered me, and I gotta be honest here, it kicked ass. Horse’s cock slid back and forth along my * from the front and his fingers delved deep inside from the back. He went after my G-spot first, sending me into shuddering convulsions just short of coming. Then he pulled his mouth away from mine and pinned me with his eyes as his fingers f*cked me. That’s when the torture began.
He worked me just to the point of orgasm over and over. I whimpered and moaned, desperate for him to give me more, but he just watched my face with that cold expression of his. I hated that look but there was something about it that turned me on too. He controlled every touch, every bit of stimulation taking over my body, and he wasn’t merciful. Finally he pulled his fingers away from me, hoisting my body higher until my hips were halfway up his chest. His mouth took my nipple right as his finger pushed into my ass and I moaned, stiffening against his invasion.
He ignored me, focusing on my nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth as his finger explored my rear, something entirely new to me. I always thought it would hurt to be touched there, but however rough he was with my breast—and he was rough, make no mistake, alternating between sucking, licking and little tiny bites—he kept his finger in my back passage gentle. I was so turned-on now that I couldn’t begin to process everything I felt. Pressure built in me and I felt my orgasm coming. I stiffened, bracing myself and tensing tight around his finger.
That’s when he pulled away and set me down without warning.
I swayed on my feet until I found my balance while he steadied me. Every nerve in my body was strung tight, jangling and overstimulated. I whimpered in protest, but he just gave me a smile that could have frozen lava.
“Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it?” he whispered, pulling away from me to sit down on the bench, legs spread wide. Bastard. If I’d had any doubts about his arousal before now, the sight of him now destroyed them. His cock was long and hard, his balls drawn up tight, showing just how close he was to the edge.
“On your knees,” he ordered, his voice harsh.
I knelt slowly before him, feeling like a slave wench servicing her conqueror, which I guess wasn’t too far off. I took his cock in both hands, smoothing up and down it as I looked up at him. I licked the little notch on the underside of the head, flicking my tongue rapidly.
“F*ck me…” he groaned, and I couldn’t tell if it was an order or just an expression of how good it felt. He reached down and tangled his fingers in my hair, urging me to wrap my mouth around his cock. Sounded good to me. I opened my mouth, sucking him in as deep as I could, which wasn’t very far because he was so large. Still, what I could take I worked with my tongue, bobbing up and down on him as my hands got into the action. I used my right to jerk him off in time with my mouth. The left I dropped down to his balls, alternately rolling and gripping them. His cock got harder and he started jerking his hips toward me a little with each stroke, holding my hair so tightly it hurt.
Horse leaned back, head turned to the side, eyes closed and an expression of infinite need on his face—that’s when I realized just how much power I held over him. He couldn’t take that from me. So long as he wanted my body, I had my own kind of control.
Holy shit, that turned me on.
I let go of his balls, reaching down between my legs to finger myself. Faster and faster I worked, until I heard him giving little grunts of encouragement and I felt little pulsing twitches start at the base of his cock. My legs quivered as I hovered right on the edge of my own explosion.
Then Horse came in my mouth, something I’d been fantasizing about for months. He didn’t do it halfway, just like everything else in his life. I’ve only ever given a blowjob to one other man—Gary—and it was nothing like this. After he finished, I kept sucking on him as I rubbed my own * hard. He didn’t soften completely, although the urgency was gone. Unfortunately, that’s when he noticed what I was doing with my hand.
“Stop it,” he ordered, reaching down to grab my arm, pulling me to my feet in front of him.
“Horse, please,” I begged.
“Do you realize how much time I’ve spent jacking myself off, thinking of you?” he asked, still sitting. I shook my head, startled by the question. “Any idea what it felt like that time you pulled away from me? Blue balls don’t come close to what you did to me, babe. Enjoying watching it happen to you for a change.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I couldn’t make love with you when there was an audience. I just couldn’t.”
“Make love? Don’t fool yourself, this is about f*cking, Marie,” he said. That hurt, hurt way more than I could have expected. Then he made it worse. “And get used to the idea of an audience, because I’m not gonna let you off easy just because you’re squeamish.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, stiffening.
“In my world we don’t follow the rules, babe,” he said. “There’s nothing about me my brothers don’t know. Remember what I told you while you were packing your shit?”
”Yeah,” I whispered, mesmerized as he leaned forward, nuzzling between my legs, flicking his tongue over my * twice, which was almost enough to sent me over.
But not quite.
I shifted restlessly, wishing I could bring my legs together, squeeze them just enough to finish the job, but he wouldn’t let me.
“This is my p-ssy,” Horse said, reaching up inside me with two fingers, rubbing against my inside wall purposefully. I shivered. “I’ll f*ck it when I want and how I want. We party with the club and I get horny, you spread for me and you don’t bitch about it. That means against a wall, on the floor, in the middle of the f*cking grocery store, you give it to me when I want or this deal is off. Get it?”
I nodded, torn between anger at his words and desperation for his touch. Fortunately he stopped talking and sucked on my *. I blew about ten seconds later, my moans echoing in the shower as I came. It took everything I had to stay on my feet, and even then I gripped his shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
He left me to finish washing, which consisted mostly of getting the conditioner out of my hair and my heart rate down to normal. I wrapped my hair in a towel and pulled on sweats and a ratty t-shirt to go back to my room. The door to Horse’s room was closed and the house was silent. That surprised me somehow. I guess I expected to see him again, that he’d want more from me. I knew he liked sleeping together, we’d done it twice and he’d held me all night both times. That’s when it really sank in.
Horse didn’t want me in his room because I wasn’t his woman. He’d offered me that and I said no—now my job was to service him and stay out of his way. Suddenly having my own room wasn’t looking so good. I actually felt lonely for the jerk, wishing he’d spend the night with me. But Horse had made himself clear—cuddling was for girlfriends and old ladies.
Now I was just a quick f*ck, and it was my own damned fault.