Angels from Hell: A Biker Erotic Romance (5 page)

Shep resists a moment longer, then rises. “Charlie is going to kill me. Even if we do this, we should wait until after the race.”

Shep has made a good point, but it doesn’t matter, not now. I have been too long without the touch of a man. I want Shep’s touch, tonight. “Don’t tell him,” I say. “Not until after the race.”

***

We take our time undressing each other. Now that we are committed, Shep seems to forget his reluctance and focuses on me. Really focuses on me, unlike any lover I have ever had.

We lie on the bed with him tucked in behind me in a loose spooning position. I’m ready to go, but Shep takes his time. He draws his fingers slowly down my spine. His touch is electric. It causes me to squirm in pleasure and anticipation. As he caresses me, his hands seem to be everywhere. His lips leave flashes of pleasure at every touch and his tongue leaves a hot trail that he cools with his breath. He attends to my needs, my desires. He gives me everything and asks for nothing in return.

I roll over and open my legs, silently offering myself to him; but, he refuses to rush. He spends an eternity kissing me. His lips are gentle and warm, as he covers my body with his. As much as I enjoy his kisses, he is taking too long. I push him away. “Please. Please take me,” I beg, desperate to feel him inside of me.

“Patience,” Shep breathes, as he begins to move lower, kissing, suckling, licking, driving my desires higher still. I reach for his manhood, but he flattens himself to me, stopping my attempt. “Patience,” he whispers again. His Australian accent becomes heavier. “I want to savor each moment of my time with you.”

As his tongue swirls around the point of my breast, he begins to lightly caress the inside of my thighs with the tips of his fingers. I hear myself whimper softly at his touch as I begin to squirm again. After a lifetime of the most exquisite tortures, Shep leaves my breasts and moves lower still. As he slowly kisses along my stomach and sides, I gasp and buck, thrusting my hips into his hard chest. Normally ticklish along my sides, I discover ticklish becomes something much more when deep in the throes of passion. His touch is making me wild with desire.

I beg Shep to stop, to release me from this hell of desire he has placed me in, but he refuses. He never wavers in his slow, methodical march downward. When, at long last, he arrives at my V his hands leave my breasts and begin to stroke my sides. Once again I writhe and twist and moan. I flail gently, as he torments me. “Shep, please,” I beg again. I am on a hair trigger, burning with desire.

When his hands leave my sides, I nearly gasp in relief. Then, I feel his breath on my womanhood as he blows gently, the sensation incredibly erotic. When his fingers touch me, opening me to him, I can feel my orgasm leap close. I require only the gentlest of nudges and I will fall over the edge. With a gentle touch of his tongue to my button, Shep pushes me into the abyss.

I hear myself grunt, low and deep, as my orgasm pours through me like a cleansing wave. My body quivers ever so slightly, as I strain against the torrent of pleasure. As I relax, panting with the power of my orgasm, I feel Shep touch me again. He drags his tongue though my wetness. He attacks my womanhood, pulling and nipping with his lips. He uses his tongue like a broadsword with long powerful strokes, or a rapier, probing into all my secret places.

“Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God,” I murmur, as he destroys me with his lips and tongue. I come twice more in quick succession. Each orgasm is more powerful than the last. I grasp at his hands, gripping them painfully tight. I need the contact to ground me, lest I lose myself. Shep continues to probe and tease with his tongue, pressing me. A fourth orgasm lurks just out of my reach. I strain for the orgasm, reach for it. I am desperate for the relief it will bring.

Shep pulls one hand free of my grip and I feel him insert a finger into me. He touches my sweet spot, stroking me. He sets my nerves afire with the motion of his finger. With a soft moan I can’t contain, I crash into the most mind-numbing orgasm I have ever experienced. My body twists of its own accord. I try to roll over, my back arching painfully as I strain. Every muscle pulls against the other. Then, with an explosive expulsion of the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, I relax. The orgasm releases its hold on me.

“Shep, stop. Stop,” I gasp, as I pull at him weakly. “I need a minute. Please, Shep. Jason, please.” Shep stops his probing and licking. His tongue no longer having any effect. As I lay panting, my heart slowing from its mad gallop and Shep moves over me. He settles lightly on me, kissing my lips gently. He seems willing to wait as long as necessary for me to recover my strength. I return the kiss, weakly at first. As the kiss progresses, I feel a new surge of need. “Now,” I command. “Take me now.”

Shep pulls his hips back and probes softly until he finds my opening, then slowly enters me. We gasp together, relishing in the pleasure of our joining. I realize, as he enters me, that he is wearing no protection. Thank God I’m on the pill because there is no stopping now. My need overwhelms my good sense.

The four orgasms have dulled the edge of my need, but the feel of Shep’s manhood moving in my wetness is still incredible. I wrap Shep up, gripping him with my legs. I pull his head into my shoulder. My hands roam his back as he fucks me.

We move together, time coming to a stop as we give and take pleasure. I continue to hold tightly to Shep, needing to feel his closeness. A sheen of sweat forms between our bodies, lubricating our movements and only adds to the moment. I can feel another orgasm building, but it no longer matters. The joy I feel at our joining enough.

Shep has been taking his time, his thrusts slow and firm, but as his thrusts become harder, faster, he begins to groan deep in his chest. “I’m going to come, Claire. I’m going to come,” he gasps into my neck, his breath hot as flame.

I want him to come. I want him to come hard, to give back some of the pleasure he has given me this night. “Then, come,” I whisper into his ear as I tighten down, gripping him as tightly as I can. “Please, come.”

Shep’s groan as he begins to drive even harder and faster into me acts like throwing gasoline on a fire. I can feel the lurking orgasm. “Please, come,” I whisper again. “Please, come with me.”

Shep powers out of my grip, rising up onto his strong arms. I grip his arms, holding tight as he pummels me, thrusting hard and fast. I watch as his face twists into a mask of sweet agony. Then, he shudders hard with a sustained groan and his head drops.

Watching Shep slip into his orgasm is my undoing and I feel my orgasm take me. It isn’t a mind twisting orgasm like those I had earlier. This one is softer, more comforting. It is like a warm bath on a cold night or a drink of cold water on a hot day. It is deeply satisfy in a way the others were not. As Shep settles against me with a sigh, he begins to kiss my neck. “I have wanted to make love to you since you arrived,” Shep says softly.

His choice of words interests me. “Make love to or fuck?” I ask.

Shep is quiet for several moments as we hold each other. Our breathing falls into sync. “At first, it was just fuck. But later, these last couple of weeks, it has become more. You’re not like any woman I have met, Claire. You’re so…strong. So very beautiful and strong.”

I can feel my eyes fill with tears at his words, but I say nothing. We lie together for the next hour, saying little. We cuddle and kiss. I can feel a bond forming with this man. As I lie in his arms, my head on his chest, listening to his heart, I realize I don’t care about the any of the things that I once found off-putting. I look beyond the difference in our ages, beyond the tattoos and the bad-boy attitude. I can see the real Jason Shepard…and I like what I see. “You have to go,” I finally say, the very speaking of the words makes me want to cry.

“Let me stay,” Shep says softly, as he kisses the top of my head.

“No, you have to go. Charlie can’t know. Not until after the race. After that, come back to me. But until then…” I say, my voice trailing off.

Shep heaves a great sigh. “I know. No distractions. It’s going to be hard to…to ignore you this next week,” Shep says softly. “To see you every night and yet not be able to touch you.” 

“I know. But we must do what we must.”

Shep doesn’t move and I don’t either, not wanting to give up this closeness. Finally, Shep begins to disentangle himself. “Claire, I can’t tell you what this means to me,” he says sitting up. He turns to look at me, touching the side of my face.

I touch the side of his face in return but say nothing, not trusting my voice.

***

The next week passes in a blur and Charlie and Shep join me for dinner each night as we agreed. Shep and I strive to act normal around each other, but I find it difficult to not let my gaze linger on him. The desire to kiss him each night as we part is so strong that I take to telling them goodbye from the kitchen, using the mundane task of cleaning up the meal as a distraction. 

“I’m going to the race,” I announce Friday night.

“Claire…” Charlie begins.

“No.” I state firmly, my tone brooking no argument. “I’m going.”

Shep and Charlie look at one another. “I’ll take care of her,” Shep says. “Don’t worry.”

Saturday Shep arrives about six p.m. with a box. “Headphone,” he says, pulling them from the box. “So you can listen in and hear what is going on.”

I notice that Shep isn’t wearing his
Kings of Chaos
jacket. It is one of the few times I have seen him without it. I take the headphones. “Thank you, Shep. For everything,” I lean in to kiss him, but he pulls back, avoiding the kiss. “Not now. Later. I have to focus.”

I smile, but don’t press the matter. “You find me to be a distraction?” I ask as I put the headphone back in the box.

“Claire, you are the only thing I have been able to think about all week.”

“That’s sweet,” I say with a smile. His words giving me a warm feeling. “Tonight, I want your head in the game. Then, afterwards, I want you to bring me back here. Can you do that? Can you think about nothing but Charlie for the next eight hours?”

Shep takes the box from me. “Let’s go,” he says, all business.

***

We arrive at the “track” a little before eight. There are already a few people there. I recognize a man from the
Kings of Chaos
. Like Shep, he is not wearing his jacket. “Let me explain the rules,” Shep says, as we dismount his bike. “Nobody is here. You talk to nobody, unless it is business. You recognize nobody. Understood?”

“Understood,” I say firmly.

“Good. There are no spectators, so you will be helping me. Just stick close to me, okay?”

“Got it,” I say.

I help Shep set up a table. As more and more people arrive, a few of whom I recognize from the Kings, I start directing traffic as Shep instructs. I notice that there is a steady stream of bikes entering the track. Shep explains they are checking the track for debris. As darkness descends, Shep hands me a small but very bright penlight. “Don’t shine it into anyone’s face,” Shep instructs. “We have to protect the racers’ night vision.”

At 11, a train of bikes leave the starting line. Each bike carries a passenger, delivering the corner marshalls. At midnight, I sit with Shep at a table. We are flanked by two men with pistols prominently displayed on their hip. Each rider, wearing their helmet to protect their identity, steps to the table. They hand Shep the entry fee. He carefully counts the cash then gives me a nod. I offer a fish bowl with twenty five dog tags inside. Each has a number embossed on it. The rider selects a tag and hands it to me. I write the number on a whiteboard with a start time before handing the tag back to the rider.

At 12:45, Shep calls all the riders together. Loudly and slowly, he counts the money and places it in a box. He attaches three padlocks to the box and hands a key to each of the armed men. He pockets the third.

As men and women begin to arrange the bikes, the night is full of the sound of shrieking, highly tuned engines. Shep puts his headphone on and picks up a clipboard with a light and stopwatch on it. I don my headphones.

“Charlie. Shep. You copy?” I hear in my headphones.