Breaker_A Motorcycle Club Romance_The Wylde Ones MC Read online

  “I said, what the fuck is going on here?”

  “Oh, um …” The guy closest to me, Freddy, speaks up, rubbing his hand behind his head. He’s got a blooming black eye and blood coming out of his nose. The others don’t look much better, but since he was the one that spoke up, I keep my attention on him and make it unwavering so he can’t weasel out of giving me an explanation.

  “Oh, um, what?”

  “It was just a misunderstanding, Booster. Sorry.”

  “A misunderstanding that has the whole club out here in the front, acting like a bunch of animals instead of grown men that know how to handle their shit?” I get no answer. “But that’s all right. I don’t blame you.”

  I look over to where Happy is standing, for some reason seeming pleased with himself. However, when his eyes catch mine, the expression falters, and he knows that he’s in trouble—I can tell by the look on his face.

  “Happy. Come here.”

  He swallows and walks over, apprehensive as a child that’s about to be scolded by their parent. It’s a pretty close comparison.

  He doesn’t seem very happy when he comes to step in front of me, something that I relish in.

  “Can you tell me why you weren’t able to handle a small, tiny little misunderstanding, Happy?” I ask him. “Can you tell me why, despite being my vice president, you apparently can’t get one simple little thing done without having to call on me?” Before Happy can respond to that, I look out to everyone.

  “If I’m not here, chances are, I’m doing something important, or getting some much-needed time to myself. I would like it if I didn’t have to have shit that needs to get done interrupted over bullshit. That being said, there’s only one reason why I had to be called here today, and that’s because someone wasn’t able to do their job. So I don’t blame most of you here.” I look back to Happy. “Don’t let it happen again.”

  Happy nods, looking pissed as hell, but he doesn’t say anything extra. That doesn’t surprise me, and it almost amuses me how little a spine he tends to have when the cards are properly down.

  The boys disperse around us, calmed and subdued in the presence of their leader. I stay and keep watching, just to make sure things look like they’re going to stay that way. I talk to a couple of the boys; shoot the shit. Not all of them are infantile if they don’t have someone to hold their hands, but there are enough of them that do that have me wondering how much more of this I can reasonably deal with for the next few years.

  When everything looks good, and most of the boys are either in the clubhouse or the ones outside are in good spirits, I decide that I’ve had enough time here and wasted enough of it that it’s about time to head back to Lena’s house. I think maybe—though it’s highly unlikely—she’s awake and waiting so we can pick up where we left off.

  Well. No matter how unlikely it is, I’m still going to go and see. I’ll just spend the night there otherwise, since she still needs to be watched.

  I go to leave, figuring that anything else that happens, either Happy will handle, or he won’t—but it won’t be my problem—except Pixie, a club girl that usually hangs around Happy, comes over.

  Pixie’s a fine little piece, and she and I have tangled in the sheets in the past.

  Note: in the past.

  I haven’t been interested in any of the club girls in a while, especially not after getting eyes, and now hands, on Lena. She’s got these big tits and a nice figure, and she presses it up against me before I can get to my bike properly.

  “Hey, Booster,” she says, her voice a little breathy and high-pitched. “You look a little frustrated. It’s been a while. Let me take care of you?”

  It would have been a temptation if this were months or even a year ago. But it’s not right now. I have shit to do.

  Deciding to be nice instead of being a dick to her, I nudge her away lightly.

  “I have things to do, Pixie,” I tell her, ignoring the disappointed, crestfallen look on her face. “Maybe next time.”

  I don’t wait around to see her reaction; I don’t really think it’s necessary for me to do so, to be honest. Instead, I get on my bike and ride away.

  I get back home in record time, having taken a short cut or two and sped along the road without a care in the world. I find the lights out when I pull up, and I know that Lena’s likely not awake. That’s okay. I head inside, grab myself something to drink, and head upstairs. There’s not a peep in the house, and when I get to my room, I can see why. Just across the way, there’s Lena in my bed, sleeping. I’m tempted to wake her, but she looks so beautiful and peaceful. I don’t dare disturb her when she needs her sleep.

  I walk up to her quietly, not wanting to disturb her too much or at all, really. She’s curled under my blankets with her face pressed into my pillow, and a faint sleeping smile on her face. It occurs to me that I’ve never had a woman in my bed like this before. I don’t date, so I don’t have women staying over. We fuck, we cum, and maybe wash up together for another round before it’s popping them on the ass and sending them on their way. Lena and I haven’t even screwed yet, yet she’s all cozy and comfy in my personal space like this.

  Oddly enough … I don’t mind it.

  The tender thought catches me off guard a bit. I don’t do the whole sentiment thing. I doubt that I ever will. But I chalk it up to caring about her in a practical sense—after all, she’s going to be the mother of my child, and therefore there’s something of a connection there that I’m fostering, right? Whatever the reason, I figure that it’s that, and it doesn’t stop me from undressing and climbing into bed with her, wrapping around her tightly. As though I’m trying to keep her safe.

  Chapter Ten

  Booster

  I wake up with Lena’s hair in my face and her ass pressed against my morning wood. I have the idea, somewhere in my hazy morning-horny state, to spread her open and roll her over, mount her, and pick up where we left off the night before.

  She’s got school, however. And I said that I would take her. And most of all, I told her that I wouldn’t disrupt her life too much.

  Usually, I wouldn’t give a shit. But those … oddly soft feelings from the night before linger, and instead of taking what I want, I think about what’s best for Lena right now, and that’s getting up and getting ready for her job.

  Lena’s up before me, usually. Except I’m pretty sure that giving her pussy a wild ride (even without my dick) last night wore her the hell out. That’s fine with me. There’s a sense of pride that I feel that I tuckered her out with something like eating her out; I can only imagine how great it’ll be to wear her out when I fuck her.

  But … thoughts like that don’t make my dick softer. I nudge her gently as I get out of bed.

  “Lena … It’s time to get up. You need to get ready, and I’m going to take you to work.”

  Lena mumbles in her sleep, a tired, grumpy kind of thing that I might expect from a kid who doesn’t want to get up to go to school in the morning, not from one of the teachers who has a job there. It makes me laugh a little; it’s cute, and it damn sure shouldn’t be.

  “Come on. I’m gonna make breakfast. Up, up.”

  I leave her mumbling, face down in my bed. I know that she’ll get up eventually; she’s too passionate about her work, and I know that she’s likely ready to get back to it. She seems like the kind of person that hasn’t ever missed a day of class—I’m pretty sure if she hadn’t been in a wreak, then she wouldn’t have agreed to my condition that she stay home in the first place.

  She’ll make a good mother …

  The thought lingers in my head a little longer than it should, a little more fondly than it ought to be, as I’m downstairs making breakfast for the two of us. I’m not the sentimental type. I don’t get mushy feelings for women. I chalk it up to the fact that Lena’s a woman that I’m planning on having a baby with, and I leave it at that.

  By the time I’m done with making breakfast, Lena’s making her way down
. She’s in the same clothes that she was in when she crashed—but I doubt that her colleagues are going to notice it. I miss the way that she looks with my shirts covering her naked body underneath, but I like the way her skirt hugs her hips. I grin at her as I set our plates down.

  “Lookin’ good.”

  She blushes, and tries to hide it by getting a bite of food. She hums at the taste; she really likes my cooking.

  “Thank you. But I look just like any other teacher.”

  Nah … no other teacher makes me want to bend them over their desk, take a ruler to their pretty little ass, and make them scream my name—

  “Ha, yeah. All right.”

  We finish up, and it’s time to take Lena to work.

  The whole way there, I’m hyperaware of the fact that Lena’s behind me. Her supple body presses to me, her arms wrapped around tight so that she can hold on. The position has her skirt hiked up on either side of me, too. The creamy, bare expanse of her thighs is a vision that I have every time that I look down, and I can swear I feel the interested heat of her pussy radiating off of her, sensual and inviting in ways that I can’t describe.

  I’ve got a bit of a hard on that’s not going to be taken care of anytime soon by the time I get her to the school. I want nothing more than to snatch her back onto my bike when she slides off and drive us down to the nearest deserted alleyway and just take her then and there, where the city can hear her crying out my name while she cums all over my cock.

  Instead, I give her a smirk like I’m not going fucking insane just over a taste and whiff of what she’s got between those thick, pretty thighs of hers.

  “I’ll see you later, Lena.”

  I think my smirks fluster her. She blushes, tucking her hair behind her ear.

  “See you later, Booster.”

  I watch her as she walks off. She’s got such a good shape … her ass sways side to side in a subtle rhythm, so you know that it’s natural and she’s not trying too hard. I like that. I also like how people’s eyes linger on me, darting between Lena and me. A few—probably teachers and some of the students—lean in and whisper to each other.

  Yeah, fuckers, eat it up. Lena Hedlund is mine, and there’s nothing anyone can say to change that now.

  Of course, for all my desire to claim Lena as soon as possible … that doesn’t actually pan through.

  Lena ends up busy, working both her own classes and subbing for another on what’s usually her free period. Apparently one of the other teachers in a different department got sick, and Lena’s the go-to for picking up other people’s slack. That means almost double the workload for Lena, and no time for me to whisk her off up to my room to put her face down, ass up.

  That’s fine. I told her I wasn’t going to intrude on her life as long as she wasn’t getting fucked by other men.

  It’s neither here nor there, since I end up occupied with club business—so even if Lena was free, I’d be the one cockblocking us.

  Sweet, sweet irony.

  I do drive her to and from work, however. I make time enough for that. Her new car will be coming in at the end of the week, and it’s odd to say, but I’ll actually miss driving her. I like having her on my bike, like she’s my girl. I like the looks that we get and the blush that she has when she tells me about how the other teachers are asking about her new beau. The word amuses me; I tell her she’s allowed to tell them whatever she wants about us. Their opinion doesn’t matter to me, what matters is Lena.

  When Thursday rolls around, I resign myself to knowing that it’s close to the last day that I’m going to be riding Lena home. It’s an odd sinking feeling; I push it down because while it’s the last time I’ll be driving her, it’s not the last time I’ll be seeing her.

  After all … we still haven’t consummated our agreement. And I intend to do that many, many times.

  I need to get back to the club to sort out some books that Happy isn’t smart enough to figure out. Before I can drive off, Lena stops me.

  “Hey, Booster. Are you free tomorrow night?”

  The question catches me off guard.

  “Hm?”

  “Are you free tomorrow night?” she repeats. “I won’t have a lot to grade and I was wondering if you wanted to come over for … dinner?”

  Her statement sounds like it was supposed to be something else—like she’s not inviting me over solely for dinner. Not like I’m opposed.

  I smirk at her, and nod.

  “Yeah. I’ll be free for dinner.”

  I leave her there, her face flushed but pleased. I wonder if she’s ever invited a man over to her house expressly for him to fuck her—I like to think that I’m the first one. The first that’s had her cumming rivers with a mouth, the first that’s going to cum in her, the first that’s going to father for her.

  I want to be so many firsts for Lena. I want to claim her wholly.

  Friday comes around, and I’m eager. I almost don’t want to wait for the evening. Having her on the back of my bike is agony, and watching her go raises those urges in me again to whisk her away from her job just so I can bust her wide open.

  I resist.

  I behave.

  I know that, tonight I’m going to get what I want, and when I do I’ll be allowed to have it again and again because Lena’s going to be addicted. I intend that damn much.

  She’s on the back of my bike now. Her skirt is shorter than I’m used to, and more of her is exposed to my vision. It’s almost too distracting, and I catch myself sliding my hand along her creamy skin while I drive us to her home. She invited me over to dinner, after all.

  I could tell her exactly what it is I wanna eat, though, and it’s not a Friday meal.

  We pull up, and I let her off. She has to adjust her skirt where it’s ridden up, but I pull her to me. Admittedly, I’m impatient. I can’t think about food; all I can think about is what she has me here for.

  I slide my hand between her thighs under her skirt, skimming just outside her panties. It makes her gasp, her thighs instinctually parting as though her body knows my touch and knows who it’s supposed to open up for. I like that.

  I fondle her a little, out in the open in front of her home. She doesn’t have neighbors, so no one will see, but it’s still the animal element to it that’s got me hot.

  Would she let me fuck her outside, on her porch, make her scream and moan and echo to the wilderness?

  God, I fucking hope so.

  I slip my finger into her panties, over her slit. She’s already wet for me, and I’m rock-fucking-solid at the heat between her legs. I slide into her, slow. Torturing her with just a taste of what I’m going to give her when we’re in her home.

  “Booster …” She backs her pretty ass up against my hand, and I ease another finger into her.

  “Yes?” I ask. I don’t remove my fingers from her. In, out, an easy rhythm that has her breath starting to come out in pants and a little whine in her throat.

  “We should … go inside … dinner …”

  I chuckle, and withdraw my fingers.

  “If you insist.”

  I make a show of cleaning my fingers off, sliding them into my mouth and sucking the juices of her pussy off the digits. She watches with wide eyes and flushed skin. I give her another grin and make my way up her porch.

  She’s quick to follow, snapping out of the stupor and almost eager to get inside—so much so that she fumbles with her keys. I like this … I like how badly she wants me and how easy it is to make her undone just by having my fingers in her.

  What will she be like when I fuck her? Just as pliable?

  I step inside after her. it’s the first time that I’ve been inside her house, and it suits her. I look around briefly—there’s books and bookshelves everywhere.

  You can tell Lena lives here.

  But I don’t keep my attention on the surroundings for long. I’ll pay attention when it matters. Right now, Lena’s shrugging off her jacket and looking at me like she doesn�
��t know what she’s supposed to be doing. Dinner, according to her little reminder to me when I was playing outside, but dinner’s not on my mind.

  I pull Lena toward me, and she doesn’t protest. When I kiss her, her lips part almost submissively, willingly, and I growl against her mouth.

  “I don’t want dinner,” I say.

  “Neither do I.”

  That’s damn good, because I’m not waiting around for another interruption. I had every intention, the night she finally agreed, to take my time with her and make her addicted to my touch before I fucked her. I’ve already done that—I’m not wasting my time with foreplay, not for round one, at least.

  I kiss her, pushing her back. I spot a table, I assume in the dining room. I don’t really care about the layout of her house right now. With a bite to her lip, I turn her around, pressing her face down to the wood. She moans at how roughly I shove her down, and something about that makes my cock ache even harder.