CHAPTER 5
Polly
Ibegan to think optimistically that Abraham wasn’t nearly as terrifying as I had feared when he said he would take me now to tell my apartment manager I’d be leaving my lease.
First, I met the rest of Legends MC.
Mac I had already met, he was the youngest vested member and did a lot of the admin work and front desk, as well as miscellaneous mechanic work and repairs.
Unc was the name of the man in a wheelchair and he oversaw the Shop.
He had an old Western-style moustache and he grinned to see me again.
“You’d make a great pickpocket,” Unc laughed.
I felt pleased at the compliment.
“Maybe—”
“No,” Abraham interrupted. “No, you are not going to be a pickpocket.”
Vladdy was a tall, muscular Russian man in his 60s who was in charge of Security. I didn’t think I’d want to get on the wrong side of Vladdy.
The last member of the Legends MC was called Fizz, and he was a tall, beanpole-shaped man in his 70s with a long, fluttering white moustache.
“And what are you the specialist of?” I asked.
“Pissing me off,” Abraham growled.
“Munitions and special projects,” Fizz said. “I can build the prettiest little explosives you’ve ever seen.”
“That’s great!” I said enthusiastically, but Abraham was already pointing back into the bedroom.
“Let’s go get your shit. But you need some other clothes first,” Abraham said.
“I don’t have any other clothes!” I protested, but he fished around in his battered dresser and pulled out a T-shirt.
“Just wear this for now.”
I went into his attached bathroom, which I was pleased to see had a big, spa-sized hot tub, and pulled on the T-shirt. It swamped me, but when I borrowed one of his belts I looked less like someone coming back from a sneaky link in a disreputable hotel room.
Then I followed him obediently outside, having to practically trot to keep up with my much shorter legs.
His ass definitely filled out those jeans in a very. . . eye-catching way. There was nothing wrong with looking was there?
But as soon as we got to my car, I realized Abraham could barely squeeze into the passenger seat.
“No, missy, I’m not going anywhere in that and neither are you. We’ll find something else for you to drive.”
I barely had time to wonder what that meant, now following his long strides across the yard, when he wheeled out his motorcycle.
It was absolutely massive, so big I didn’t know how anyone could control it, let alone race it.
“Why do they call you the Bonemangler?” I asked. “Is it because of all the murders you’ve committed?”
“I don’t judge,” I added hastily.
He only gave a snort, grabbing a battered helmet and popping it over my head.
“I try to keep the murders to a bare minimum. Now get on behind me.”
I’d never ridden a motorcycle in my life, and I was wearing only a T-shirt and high heels, but I hopped on behind him, shivering a bit as he pulled my hips forward so they were flush against his back.
His cut smelled delicious with old, ripe leather, and I was forced to hold on tight as Abraham kicked the motorcycle into gear.
It felt so. . . obscene to be driving down the road with my pussy practically smashed on his back. Lewd and naughty.
Abraham drove smoothly, with confidence, all the way out to where my crappy apartment building squatted like a dung beetle on the earth.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, as Abraham leaned against the bike and lit a cigarette.
But no matter how I begged the manager, Derrick had no interest in letting me out of my lease early.
“That’ll be two months rent,” was all he said to me. “Plus extra cleaning fees.”
Gloomily, I went back outside. It would wipe out all my savings to do that, but I could just barely manage it.
“They probably are desperate to get people to stay in these crappy apartments,” I said indignantly as I explained the situation.
Abraham’s expression didn’t change, but he exhaled a wreath of smoke in the air.
“Stay here,” he said.
“But—” I began.
“Stay here.”
Oh my god, what kind of voice was that for a man to have? So low and gravelly, rough-edged and rugged.
While I waited, a brand new Porsche painted a bubblegum pink whizzed past me, but it wasn’t until its driver screeched to a halt that I recognized who was behind the wheel.
It was Bridget, my ex’s new wife.
She hopped out, dressed in one of her many smart little golfing outfits, and carrying her usual quadruple-shot espressos.
“Pollllllyyyyy, I almost couldn’t believe that was you! You always look so, so, like a little mother. No offense. In a good way. So did you, like, lose your pants or something?”
I looked down at myself.
Abraham’s big shirt was swamping me, but the belt made the hemline ride up a bit, so I was practically in a miniskirt.
“Nope. This is just what I wear now.”
“Come here,” she said. “Let me see if I’ve got any loose change in the car for you.”
For a moment I was struck silent with indignation at the sight of her rifling in the car console, change and ratty old dollar bills held out in her open hand.
“A little something to tide you over,” she said. “Have you tried eating more cheaply? Beans taste almost as good as steak, really they do.”
“Honey, as his ex-wife I recommend you don’t give Perry beans. They make him excessively gassy.”
Bridget made a face, as if she didn’t like to be reminded that Perry could emit the rankest gas.
And just as she held out her hand full of random car money, Abraham walked by, and she jerked up in such surprise that the coins fell all over the pavement.
He didn’t even glance over at her.
“Let’s go.”
“They’ll let me out of the lease?” I asked incredulously.
“Not only that, but they’ll pay for a moving company for your things.”
“I can’t believe you did that! You’re a magician!” I cried, clapping in excitement.
The muscles in his forearms flexing, Abraham picked me fully up in the air and plopped me right down on the motorcycle.
Then he swung his leg over so he was right behind me and I was practically riding on his lap.
I saw Bridget’s jaw go slack at the sight of me with this massive muscular man in a cut.
“Who the hell?” she was mouthing at me when Abraham gave my spread cheeks a resounding spank and kick-started the bike.
“Let’s go.”
He turned the motorcycle around and we left, a nice handful of gravel splattering all over the back of Bridget’s bubblegum pink Porsche as he spun out of the parking lot.
It felt very decadent to be riding in the front too, with both his big thighs on either side of me, our bodies pressed together, and by the time we were home I was almost squirming with the closeness.
“That was amazing! I really like riding!” I chattered as soon as he lifted me off the bike and removed my helmet. “How long have you had that bike? Did you make it yourself?”
Abraham only grunted.
“Go into the bedroom.”
I practically skipped my way there.
“I can’t believe I’m finally rid of that place! They sucked so much. One time I saw a cockroach there and no one would come kill it so I had to trap it in an empty Chinese takeaway container. How did you get them to let me out of my lease?”
“People like to do what I tell them to,” was all he would say about it. “Now bend over the bed.”
I never thought freeuse would be something I’d be into, but there was something so satisfying about not having to think about it. Or overthink it.
So I instantly bent over his bed and flipped up the bottom of my T-shirt so he could see my silky panties.
He put one hand out and tightened it around the fabric, dragging my panties down my thighs until they were puddled in a wet pile underneath me.
“Spread your thighs.”
My fingers gripped on the bedspread, the contents of my purse all spilled across it in my haste to obey him.
Then I almost choked as the Prez notched the head of his cock at my entrance. Damn, it was big.
I tried to control my breathing as he spread my cheeks and began to press his way in, but I was soon puffing and gasping with each inch. No matter how much I wiggled it felt like he was not going to fit.
And all of a sudden he was in, and I didn’t have a chance to catch my breath before he began rhythmically thrusting, long hard pounds with his cock that seemed to stretch every inch inside.
I considered myself difficult to get off, but the way he was combining spanking my butt with these dominating strokes, meant my whole body was tingling with arousal.
My phone buzzed.
Bridget said she saw you with a very big man today, are you doing all right?
“You can answer,” Abraham rumbled from behind me.
“That’s a very improper thing to do!” I squealed, but grabbing my phone, I did my best to obey.
I’m doing fine, I like big men
Perry answered instantly.
Don’t be ridiculous, she said you were acting very out of character. Riding a motorcycle??
You don’t know me very well. I like men who are big everywhere and ride motorcycles.
My clit was getting ground into the bedding, and I wanted to squirm with the pressure but there was nowhere to go. And heat was starting to pulse in my pussy, soak down my thighs.
Polly, think about your reputation, for God’s sake.
I’m happy to have a reputation for liking big men on motorcycles.
I texted as quickly as I could, having to correct a bunch of typos because my nipples were hard and tight, and I felt like I was about to explode. . .
Now don’t contact me unless it’s about Laurie, I finished, before hanging on for dear life to the bed and starting to shake.