good but she didn’t want to stick out like a sore
thumb. This would be her first official showing as his old lady. It made her
feel like a prize pony in a contest. In the end, she opted for a pair of dark
skinny jeans and a flowing black tank top with silver straps. She’d exchanged
heels for a pair of black combat boots she’d bought the first week she and
Shooter had been together.
Things had been going well for them. What if they didn’t
like her? What if she offended someone? Her stomach tightened, like a shirt
shrinking after being submerged in cold water. After fluffing the hair she’d
wrapped in curling rods the night before, she placed her hands on her hips.
“This is as good as it’s going to get, Moore.” Sticking her
tongue out, she laughed at her silliness. Being with Shooter brought out her
playful side. He made life seem a lot more exciting and carefree. It was hard
to be a bundle of nerves when the person you were with avoided stress like the
plague. His unique take on the world made for interesting conversations.
The familiar rumble of his motorcycle vibrated the air and
she grinned. Grabbing her black purse, she hurried out of the room to the front
door and opened it. Eager to meet the men he considered family and see how
Shooter lived, her body tingled.
“Hi.” She pushed forward on the balls of her feet, and he
grinned, giving her a slow once-over.
“I think that’s some sort of record.”
“You never have to wait on me.”
“No, but I don’t think you’ve ever met me in the driveway.”
“I missed you?”
“Yeah, it’s been a long five hours.”
“Shut up, Shooter.”
His deep chuckle made her stomach flutter. The intensity
between them never faded. One look and her panties were drenched. So much that
she’d started stashing extra pairs in handy places.
The look on Joey’s face when Juliette had shoved a pair of
thong underwear in the inner pocket of her purse and zipped it shut had been
priceless. After her quick explanation of what she’d done, Joey had whispered,
“I have to get me one of those.” It still made Juliette smirk.
Shooter handed her the black helmet he’d had customized with
an Old English J in white. Placing it on her head, he tightened the
chinstrap, and she climbed behind him like a pro. She’d come to enjoy riding
bitch.
“Anything I need to know before we get there?” she asked.
“Same as usual—any problems, let me know. I’m going to
introduce you to some old ladies. They’ll look out for you. I think you’ll like
Prez’s old lady, Boston. She’s a firecracker but fair and down to earth unless
you rile her up. Which I can’t see you doing.”
“Thanks?” she queried. He laughed and faced forward.
Clutching his waist, she leaned in against his back as he pulled out of the
driveway and onto the road. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the wind in her face
as it blew her hair out behind her.
With Shooter, the normal things didn’t apply. He liked her
dressed up the same way he did dressed down, just out of bed, sweaty from the
gym. When there was no need to put on airs or live through the
pretend-to–be-perfect phase most couples did, you got to the heart of things in
a direct manner.
They pulled up to the gated facility and her mouth became a
desert. The scantily clad women entering the building ahead of her made her
swallow hard. Someone ran down to open the gate and Shooter pulled in, parking
his bike a few yards down from the others. Once the kickstand was lowered, he
moved off and offered his hand. She took it and pursed her lips.
“Don’t be nervous, baby. They’ve been looking forward to
meeting the woman who tamed me.”
She snorted. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
“That’s because you’re smart.” He wrapped his arm around her
shoulders and guided her into the large warehouse-like building. Loud rock and
roll spilled from the inside as they approached the entryway. Shooter opened
the door and she preceded
thumb. This would be her first official showing as his old lady. It made her
feel like a prize pony in a contest. In the end, she opted for a pair of dark
skinny jeans and a flowing black tank top with silver straps. She’d exchanged
heels for a pair of black combat boots she’d bought the first week she and
Shooter had been together.
Things had been going well for them. What if they didn’t
like her? What if she offended someone? Her stomach tightened, like a shirt
shrinking after being submerged in cold water. After fluffing the hair she’d
wrapped in curling rods the night before, she placed her hands on her hips.
“This is as good as it’s going to get, Moore.” Sticking her
tongue out, she laughed at her silliness. Being with Shooter brought out her
playful side. He made life seem a lot more exciting and carefree. It was hard
to be a bundle of nerves when the person you were with avoided stress like the
plague. His unique take on the world made for interesting conversations.
The familiar rumble of his motorcycle vibrated the air and
she grinned. Grabbing her black purse, she hurried out of the room to the front
door and opened it. Eager to meet the men he considered family and see how
Shooter lived, her body tingled.
“Hi.” She pushed forward on the balls of her feet, and he
grinned, giving her a slow once-over.
“I think that’s some sort of record.”
“You never have to wait on me.”
“No, but I don’t think you’ve ever met me in the driveway.”
“I missed you?”
“Yeah, it’s been a long five hours.”
“Shut up, Shooter.”
His deep chuckle made her stomach flutter. The intensity
between them never faded. One look and her panties were drenched. So much that
she’d started stashing extra pairs in handy places.
The look on Joey’s face when Juliette had shoved a pair of
thong underwear in the inner pocket of her purse and zipped it shut had been
priceless. After her quick explanation of what she’d done, Joey had whispered,
“I have to get me one of those.” It still made Juliette smirk.
Shooter handed her the black helmet he’d had customized with
an Old English J in white. Placing it on her head, he tightened the
chinstrap, and she climbed behind him like a pro. She’d come to enjoy riding
bitch.
“Anything I need to know before we get there?” she asked.
“Same as usual—any problems, let me know. I’m going to
introduce you to some old ladies. They’ll look out for you. I think you’ll like
Prez’s old lady, Boston. She’s a firecracker but fair and down to earth unless
you rile her up. Which I can’t see you doing.”
“Thanks?” she queried. He laughed and faced forward.
Clutching his waist, she leaned in against his back as he pulled out of the
driveway and onto the road. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the wind in her face
as it blew her hair out behind her.
With Shooter, the normal things didn’t apply. He liked her
dressed up the same way he did dressed down, just out of bed, sweaty from the
gym. When there was no need to put on airs or live through the
pretend-to–be-perfect phase most couples did, you got to the heart of things in
a direct manner.
They pulled up to the gated facility and her mouth became a
desert. The scantily clad women entering the building ahead of her made her
swallow hard. Someone ran down to open the gate and Shooter pulled in, parking
his bike a few yards down from the others. Once the kickstand was lowered, he
moved off and offered his hand. She took it and pursed her lips.
“Don’t be nervous, baby. They’ve been looking forward to
meeting the woman who tamed me.”
She snorted. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
“That’s because you’re smart.” He wrapped his arm around her
shoulders and guided her into the large warehouse-like building. Loud rock and
roll spilled from the inside as they approached the entryway. Shooter opened
the door and she preceded
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