Savage Angels: A Savage MC Erotic Romance by Alice May Ball Page B

the sentence he was looking down the massive barrel of a handgun, the same dull black as the bike. His cock was still jutting out and pointing now at the biker. I couldn’t keep from giggling. Man’s got a gun in his face, Dwayne’s got his cock aimed at the guy.
    The biker’s voice didn’t change as he stepped off the cycle, keeping the gun right in Dwayne’s face,
    “You need to reassess your situation, citizen.”
    Even whacked on crack, Dwayne wasn’t quite stupid enough to argue with a gun in front of his teeth. The biker waved towards the car. “Drive carefully, citizen.” Dwayne hesitated. The biker cocked the pistol’s hammer.
    Dwayne slid around and got into the car, still trying to cram his cock back into his pants. It was still too big. With the car door in one hand and his cock in the other, he almost fell back out, and he had some trouble getting himself behind the wheel with his hand and his cock in the way. Dwayne was always wonderfully coordinated, right up until any time he had to think.  
    Finally, with his face red he fired the engine, he looked over at me, maybe still thinking there was a chance I’d scuttle in beside him. Poor Dwayne didn’t know much, and he sure as hell didn’t know me at all. His wheels kicked up some dust as he spun the car around and away.
    The biker smiled as he watched Dwayne’s big exit. Then his blue eyes found their way back and along over to me. He stood looking at me for a while. I was one hell of a mess spread out there on the ground. The pink tip of his tongue touched his lips, and he pulled his lips in between his teeth to get it back in, and to stop himself from grinning. Then he started towards me.
    His walk was quiet, a slow, feline roll. His feet slung wide and his shoulders rocked, his hips swung in counterpoint. All the time his head was steady, low but watchful. Hot, supple flesh hung with leather and denim, with the swinging beat of a piston-driven machine.
    Our eyes locked and something like a piston banged in the pit of my stomach. This boy was more than just trouble. He was mayhem and pillage. This was a man who could hurt you in all the right ways. I should have run. I should have thanked him and stepped neatly away into the night. Called a cab on my cellphone. I should have called my Daddy. But I was pinned down on my elbows.
    One knee up, stockings ripped and my legs apart, I was rooted to the spot. There was blood in the corner of my mouth. I licked it away with the tip of my tongue. My skirt was around the tops of my thighs and my thin, sheer panties were soaked and clinging to the swollen lips of my aching, gasping pussy. My big round breasts heaved almost uncovered in the night air inside my thin, open shirt.
    I thought that this rough biker, padding towards me with that gleam in his eye, I thought that he might haul up my ass in his big paws, rip my panties aside and take me right there. Shove me onto my back, pry my thighs farther apart, rise up, his hips pressing between my legs, denim against the cool skin of my buttocks.  
    Feel his way into my panties. Penetrate me, impale me on his long, hard rod. Force himself through my hot, unprotected petals. Nail me right there on the ground. He could have me right there and then, there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. I was so open, so exposed.
    But, no. He held out his gloved hand, with a faint, shy smile like a gallant and chivalrous knight. His eyelids fluttered as he said, “Ma’am.” I might have kicked him if I wasn’t lying down. He was almost ready to take his hand away before I reached out for it. As I stretched my fingers reluctantly towards him, he did whip his hand away. He quickly took off the glove then offered his upturned hand again.
    As my fingers touched his palm, a jolt like an earth tremor shook through me. I was sure that I saw his eyes widen at the same moment. He pulled me up. My cheeks came up level with his hard chest. I felt the heat from his body reach my