Chapter 9
Road
Intense heat weaves through my muscles, making them tense and ready when I sense the hard erection lined up with mine.
Knife-fight, my ass. Blue-eyed boy came here for this , no matter what lies he’s been telling himself to rationalize it, but this isn’t the moment to call him out. The wordless truce between us is fragile and could be shattered by a single wrong word.
I can smell the truth all over him. He's taken a shower before mounting his bike, and has that addictive scent on him. Pine, leather, smoke, like a fucking campfire beckoning me to come close and taste the meat sizzling in a skillet.
He wanted to smell good for me. Wanted to be juicy and fresh. Who am I to reject such a delicious offering?
I squeeze both of his wrists against the cold asphalt, and then flex my shoulders, rolling my body against his. We’re dressed. I don’t really know how he looks naked, beyond the glimpse I got of his backside in the hospital gown. I don’t even like him, but his wide-eyed gaze is like a vibrating leash rewarding each and every thrust I make.
The stifled moans are even better. He bites his bottom lip, as if trying to tempt me into a kiss, but does everything to avoid eye contact. And yet, he rocks back against me, legs spread. A shiver goes down my spine when I’m reminded of what he said to me those months ago.
‘I would have let you’ .
Fuck. I’m so horny for anything he meant he’d let me, because it suggests the kind of dynamic I want. He’s not fighting me when I hold his wrists, and he’s not trying to get on top either. Clyde’s warm breath tickles my cheek, and I can’t believe who I’m grinding against, but I don’t hate it.
If I didn’t know he wants this , I could have gotten so much more wrong about him.
Or I’m blind to all his shitty flaws, because he makes horny grunts under me and rubs against me ever quicker, like we’re two undersexed teens, not grown-ass men. Does it matter? As long as no one else finds out, I don’t care.
The night grows hot when my body speeds up. I can barely take credit for Clyde’s moans, because I’m no longer in control. Primal instinct has taken over, and the unexpected pleasure is just happening to me, almost as if I’m its very willing victim.
His skin is pink and looks so delicious with the glaze of fresh sweat that I can’t help myself and dive in, lapping salt and musk off his stubbly cheek while we rock together. He stirs, taking sharp gasps. His hips push hard against mine, and his leg curls above my ass, holding me close.
This is what dreams are fucking made of. The delightful heat of the friction between us doesn’t even feel real, but then he’s arching, thrashing, and I don’t need to feel his cum on my skin to know I’ve finished him.
All I want is to follow, but determination takes hold, and I unzip my pants with a trembling hand, moving over him even as he collapses, breathless and sweaty. Any touch feels like a threat to my sanity now, but I pluck my painfully stiff dick and shove it under Clyde’s T-shirt, resuming my grinding.
I’m almost embarrassed how fast it’s over.
Even though I’m already coming, fresh waves of arousal keep hitting me when my cockhead rubs over the hair on his tense stomach.
Clyde might have been avoiding eye contact, but now that his hands are free, he’s not trying to scramble from under me. Instead, I sense his fingers inch up my arm. I’m still brainless with my orgasm, but I regret that I have my jacket on, because I’m starving for more skin-to-skin touch.
As if reading my mind, Clyde dips his other hand under my jacket. The way he slides his fingers under my tank top is so tentative, I’d call it shy. It’s so hard to imagine a loudmouth like Clyde Turner being timid . He had no hesitation when he almost stabbed me several times tonight .
When he presses his face to my neck, I just about melt into him, imagining us with no clothes on, and my dick deep inside him.
It’s so quiet. Almost as if all the woodland critters hiding in the trees surrounding the garages are holding their breath as they watch us. With my nose and lips tucked into Clyde’s smooth hair, I’m in a state of bliss. Who cares about the outside world, when I can have this bubble?
I move my arm under his head, so he can use it as a pillow while my other hand explores the waistband of his pants. I sense him stiffen, but he doesn’t stop me when I undo the zipper, and then slide my fingers past the waistband of his underwear, into sticky heat that makes my toes curl.
I’m touching his dick. And his cum.
He’s softening, but it’s no less hot to touch him now. He’s so responsive to me too. Clyde’s breath hitches against my skin when I give his dick a little squeeze. Nails dig in under my ribs, but it’s not painful. Hopefully, getting his rocks off took Clyde out of his stabby mood.
I love that he wants to explore my body even after we finished. My heart is soaring at all the things I want to do to him— with him. I never let myself think about it much, but he’s the hottest guy I know, and he wants me. I’m not letting him go now.
I gasp when his hot wet tongue rolls along my neck, and he even rubs his leg against my hip. He wants me. Wants me bad. I bet he’s got no one else. Like me. We could give each other the relief we both need. It wouldn’t have to affect anything in our real lives, especially if the truce sticks.
I’m not letting go of his cock until I have to, but I use my other hand to draw patterns on the side of his head as I dive in, focused on his lips.
Our eyes finally meet, and his are so dazed and half-lidded. I’ve never seen him like that, so blissed out and unguarded. Another new side I’m desperately eager to explore. But as soon as I move in for a kiss, his pupils widen, and he backs out just enough to deny me what I want even though he’s still under me.
“I’m not that gay,” he scoffs, and it’s so dumb I can hardly comprehend it.
My hand is still on his dick. He licked my neck. He came under me.
But a kiss is too much?
I want to laugh in his face and make some dumb jokes, but the peace between us is fragile, and even I can restrain myself when it’s needed. Sometimes .
I don’t want him sliding out of my arms yet, so I nod and nip his cheek, before tracing the imprints of my teeth with my tongue. Fuck he tastes good.
I want to have him every damn day. This is… this is everything.
He's so fucking perfect. His long hair has come undone and now lies over the asphalt like spilled gold. He's still flushed, smells like sex, and wears a leather jacket that looks so good on him. I’ve never wanted to admit it about a guy I hate, but there's no denying Clyde Turner is my biker wet dream.
I can live without kisses. For now.
“You know this ends with one of us dead?” Clyde whispers, but it doesn’t sound like the threats he greeted me with. And to make things more confusing, he slides his fingers up my spine as though he’s counting each vertebrae. It feels so good I can’t help but lean into his touch.
“Are you always this negative?” I ask, tasting his ear. Love how he shivers and tips his head a bit, as if asking me to continue. Maybe if we lie here long enough, he’ll get hard again.
“I’m just realistic. This wouldn’t fly in my club even if it wasn’t… you . And secrets have a way of being spilled eventually.”
But the mixed signals continue as he arches into me, lazily exploring my body with his rough fingers. While one of his hands settles on my nape, the other slides to my stomach. Even after coming, I’m so excited it’s hard to have a serious conversation with him, but I need to focus if I want to do this again.
Preferably without the stabby bit.
“Nah, it’s actually the other way around. I’m the only guy you can fuck around with without either of us getting killed,” I say, and when Clyde rolls his eyes at me, I grab his chin and move on top to get all of his attention. “We both have everything to lose. We’ll be careful,” I say, parting his legs with my knee. I need him thinking with his dick to get my way.
Damn, I’ve never felt this desperate for more after sex was over. He’s so solid in my arms, his muscles hard, shoulders and arms almost a match to my own. In comparison to our brief rutting, everything I’ve ever done with women seems painfully bland, as if I’ve only now gotten a taste of real liquor after a lifetime of living on flavored water.
Clyde groans and rubs the back of his head against the road. I love that he’s not pushing me off even as he’s overthinking the obvious.
It’ s either me or no one, and he knows I’m right. He would have fucked around with someone out of state or something otherwise, but just like me, he finds it too risky.
“Fuck.” He takes one more deep breath, and looks into my eyes, tempting me into kissing him, but I won’t push my luck, no matter how soft his lips appear. “But just to be clear, we’re not ‘buddies’ now. I don’t like you, and you don’t like me. We’ll just be… two bodies. Two people who need something. Everything else stays the same.”
This time, I can’t hold in a snort and smell his hair as I lower my weight on to him. “Sure. You can be my fuck puppet. My sexy sack of juicy meat,” I say, squeezing his hard pec.
Clyde gasps but removes his hands from under my jacket. I already miss the touch. I’ll be fucking hungover after this high tomorrow.
“A hot male body to come with,” he whispers, once more avoiding my gaze.
In the ten years I’ve known him, I’ve never learned as much about him as tonight. I never really wondered about what Clyde Turner wants beyond being part of a powerful gang, making money, and sowing havoc. His club has been nothing but a hindrance for all the years since I joined the Vultures. He’s the brother of the man I killed, and still, all I want is to undress him and lie in a hot tub, quietly touching, so that club talk doesn’t ruin the mood.
I’ve never wanted anyone this much. I even think the avoidant part of him is doing it for me. Like I’m a wolf, and he’s a stag that bolted. I’ve got no idea if I have a chance of winning, but I’m still gonna chase.
“When do I see you again?”
I let him slide out from under me, and catch a glimpse of his soft cock as he tucks it back in.
“We got the burner phone, we’ll arrange something. I’ve got some… stuff to deal with.”
What stuff? I want to know everything about him all of a sudden. Not just like before—what he’s scheming as one of the Butchers. I want to know where he lives, who he meets, his daily routine, his dream bike, his favorite food, even who his tattoo artist is. I’m greedy, and only he can sate me.
This secret will be a wall between me and my family, my club, but if other people can lead double lives for years, why not me? I’ll just not let it affect me in the days between our meetings. It will be sex. Fun. Nothing more. We’re both guys, so how hard can it be to keep things drama-free?
We’ll fuck, maybe have a drink, then fuck again, wrestle a little maybe, and go back to hating each other on the daily.
I won’t let anything that happens between me and Clyde affect my club, and I know he feels the same way. “Fine.”
He gets up. I wasn’t expecting Clyde to smile at me, and my heart does a weird little backflip. He’s only ever scowled at me, mocked me, or picked fights, so this makes me feel kinda special. As though our rutting session was so good for him he can’t help but smile. And he looks damn handsome like that. Fucking biker catnip in the headlight of his vehicle. Long hair in disarray, stubble, black boots and a cigarette he sticks into his mouth.
He’s about to turn around, half a step toward his bike already, but then gives me another glance and points between us. “This? This was good.”
“You smell good,” I say without thinking and pull out my pipe to do something with my hands. Otherwise, I’d grab him by one of those long legs and pull him in for another round, but it’s already so late.
I’m rewarded with another smile, and then he walks off, leaving behind a cloud of smoke.
Only once he drives off with a roar of an engine do I notice he didn’t even pick up his knife. I suppose that’s one reason to message him first thing tomorrow.