Chapter 3
THREE
The office is exactly what I’d expect from a bar like this—dim, cluttered, and smelling faintly of old smoke and booze. Harsh fluorescent light flickers overhead, highlighting a beat-up desk littered with papers and bulletin boards full of curling flyers and half-forgotten reminders.
I turn as the door clicks shut behind me, and my pulse picks up as biker guy locks it.
My eyes rake over him as I take in the tattoos wrapping his hands, arms, and neck, and the way his leather cut clings to his strong, broad shoulders where his dark hair hangs loose. And his equally dark eyes bore into me as he takes a step forward, looking like he wants to ruin me.
And I want to let him.
As I step into him, his hands grab me, forcefully pulling me into him. Our mouths crash together in a kiss that should hurt, but I welcome every bit of it. The taste of whiskey and smoke mixes with the smell of leather and pine, and I breathe it all in as my hands go straight for his belt.
I keep kissing him as I work it open, then slide my hand into his boxers and wrap it around his already hard cock.
He groans against my lips, and a jolt of heat shoots through me like a reckless hit of something I shouldn’t want.
“Fuck,” he pants, his voice rough against my lips as his hands slide under my shirt and graze my abs. “How did I know you’d be a filthy fucking dream…”
“Keep going,” I say, giving him a squeeze. “See what else you’re right about.”
“Hm,” he mutters, shaking his head as he bites his lip, and his eyes run over me. “You’re going to make me obsessed.”
The corner of my lips tilts up, and he immediately leans in to devour me in another heated, rough kiss.
He pushes me back until I hit the desk with a thud, and my hand slips from his cock as I fall back against it.
But I’m not complaining as his hands undo my belt, then he drops to his knees in one smooth move, yanking my pants down just enough to free me.
Then he looks up at me with those dark, piercing, dangerous eyes, and I still.
He’s fucking hot.
“This…” he murmurs, letting his gaze trail down my chest to my cock, standing hard and ready, “is a work of fucking art.”
I lift an eyebrow at him, but he’s dead serious. And as his lips wrap around my cock, I don’t even give that another thought.
He takes me deep into his mouth with ease, sucking me in a rhythm that’s both frantic and measured, while his hands trace up my thighs. It’s like he’s eager, yet worshipping… devouring and savouring all at once.
Pleasure pulses through me as my breaths come sharp and uneven, and my fingers slip into his hair.
And as I watch him, something stirs inside me.
This guy is a contradiction of chaos and control.
He’s both too much and not enough, a chaotic mix of fast and slow, and tender and rough, like even he doesn’t know what he’s going to do until he’s doing it.
And I’m here for it.
I don’t need to make sense of him, or of this. I just want to feel it. And to take it all in. Every sharp edge mixed with every soft touch. And I want more.
His hand wraps around my cock as he lets his mouth drift to my hip, dragging his lips along my skin. Then, in a sudden move, he bites me.
A rush of air escapes me, and my heart thuds.
His eyes lift to meet mine with amusement flickering in their depths. “You like a little pain with your pleasure?” he asks in a low, smug voice.
I respond by tightening my grip in his hair, hard enough to make him tip his head back.
He smiles darkly. “Me too, baby.”
And suddenly, I’m moving. I pull him to his feet and push him back against the wall with a satisfying thud. Then I drop to my knees, pull his pants and boxers over his hips, and pause as my eyes widen in surprise.
Even his dick is tattooed.
As I glance up at him, he just shrugs with a smirk. “Gotta live a little, right?”
I take a moment to look into his eyes as curiosity momentarily takes hold. There’s something so interesting about him, with his wild ease, paired with danger wrapped in dark playfulness. Like he’s performing a role he knows too well, and yet there’s something deeper beneath it all.
But I’m not here to figure him out.
I take him into my mouth and let the fire ignite in me again. I chase it and let it build, as every moan from him feeds something I didn’t know was still alive in me.
“Fuck,” he groans as his hips twitch. “Your mouth is fucking incredible.”
I move in closer to him, my hands landing on his ass as I pull him towards me and take him to the back of my throat.
The sight of his tattoos over his abs, thighs, and his cock sends heat pulsing through me, and the scent of leather clinging to him is rough and intoxicating.
His muscles flex under my fingers as his groans grow louder, and it pushes me to take more and completely give in.
Because for the first time in a long time… I feel something.
“Jesus Christ, you look so fucking good,” he mutters as he looks down at me with an intense look in his eyes.
I reach for my own cock and stroke it as I keep sucking him, never breaking eye contact.
“Fuck yeah,” he moans. “Stroke that hard cock for me.”
I keep my gaze locked on his, sucking him deep while I work myself and watching as he slowly comes undone.
His chest heaves, his eyes turn glassy, and his grip in my hair tightens.
Pain blooms along my scalp and merges with the pleasure sparking through me, lighting up nerves I didn’t even know were starving.
“Oh, fuck,” he grunts as his eyes flutter shut for a moment, and his body tenses. “I’m coming.”
The taste of him hits my tongue as he comes with a groan, and I watch his chest rise and fall with ragged breaths. As I swallow him down, his grip in my hair slowly loosens, and a new kind of hunger enters his gaze.
He suddenly grabs me, pulling me to my feet as he spins us around so my back is now against the wall, and he presses in to me. His gaze drops to my mouth as his tongue sweeps across his bottom lip, then his hand wraps around my cock with a slow, firm stroke.
A low moan slips out of me, and he leans in closer, his other hand sliding up my chest until his fingers brush over my throat. Immediately, I lift my chin and meet his eyes, giving him permission.
He strokes me again… then wraps his fingers around my neck and squeezes.
But not hard enough.
“You can do better than that,” I say, keeping my eyes locked on his.
His eyes narrow slightly as he seems to study me for a moment. But it doesn’t last long, as he tightens his grip hard enough to steal a breath and send a pulse of electricity right down my spine.
He keeps stroking me, increasing his speed until my body starts to give way beneath the flood of sensation.
Pain and pleasure blur together, twisting inside me like they’ve always belonged in the same breath.
Hurt and comfort… Control and surrender.
It’s overwhelming, but not in a way that makes me want to pull back.
But in a way that makes me want to dive deeper, as I chase a high I didn’t know I needed.
I’ve been numb for too long, and the feeling of his hands, his weight pressed against me, the fire in my throat, and the pressure building between my legs is actually making me feel something again.
My moans grow louder and my breath becomes heavy as I tip closer to the edge, consumed by the need to let go.
He nudges my chin higher with his hand still tight around my throat, forcing my eyes to his.
“Come,” he says darkly, looking at me like I’m something to be devoured.
My release crashes through me like a dam breaking wide open.
It tears through my body with an intensity that leaves me breathless as my muscles tense, and I groan as he jerks me through it.
His grip on my throat tightens just enough to make me feel it in every beat of my pulse, and in every quiet place that forgot what it meant to ache.
When he lets go of me, the absence of pressure leaves me longing.
But I quietly watch as he lifts his hand to his mouth, and slowly licks my cum from his fingers.
Then he steps in, placing his palms on the wall on either side of my head as he pushes his tongue past my lips and gives me a taste of what he’s done to me.
When he pulls back just enough to look at me, he smirks. “You’re a fucking delight.”
I huff out a breath with a small shake of my head, and he just chuckles, stepping back to zip up his jeans.
I watch him as I pull my own pants back up, and he turns away to straighten the desk where papers scattered. And my gaze drifts to the large Basin Kings patch stitched across the back of his cut.
I don’t know much about the Kings. They keep their real business locked up tight, but everyone’s heard the rumours.
Auto theft, chop-shop deals, flipping stolen rides…
with their bike and auto garage as a front.
Classic outlaw shit. They've been around Fredericton forever, but I’ve never paid them much attention.
Even as a kid back in Moncton, I remember the patches and the stories.
And since I moved to Fredericton to work at the University of New Brunswick, I see them around quite a bit. But they haven’t touched my life in any way, so why would I care?
He turns to face me, and my eyes drop to the name stitched over his chest. The one I purposely ignored out in the bar.
A. Roy. Vice President.
Well, I guess now that I’ve sucked off their VP, it’s affecting me a little.
He doesn’t say a word as he watches me with one eyebrow slightly raised, and the corner of his lips curved like he’s waiting to see what I’ll do next.
And as I stare right back at him, taking in the dangerous look in his eyes, something in me shifts.
It feels like a crack in the numbness… a flicker of something both welcome and unwelcome. Like it’s something I may have been looking for… but now that it’s here, it’s raw, unfamiliar, and inconvenient.
So I don’t touch it.
“Well,” I say with a small nod. “Thanks for that.”
Then I walk out, grab my things, and leave.