Savage Angels: A Savage MC Erotic Romance (10 page)

Outside in the dusk, a row of about fifteen bikes, most of them Harley Davidsons, leaned by the entrance like horses outside the saloon in an old western. It seemed a safe bet to Gypsy that Hacker’s wasn’t going to be in a line with all the rest of them. Far across the lot, away from the lights she saw a matt black bike. Low seat, high bars, no dressing at all. She thought,
that’s him.

She thought it would be fun to really surprise him. Jump in the saddle and wait for him, ready on the hog. But she also knew that if he saw someone on his bike, he’d probably shoot them before he even wondered who it might be, so she stood waiting by the side of the bike like a little groupie.

About fifteen minutes standing around and Gypsy was starting to wonder if this was all worth it, when two drunken bikers lumbered towards her. One was tall and wide, with mean black shades, a mass of frizzy hair and a big, bushy mousey beard. The other was short and fat with a bandana and a face covered in ugly ink. Looked like prison ink from the quality of the art. Both of them had swarthy complexions and she took them to be Mexicans.

The taller one said, “Hey, sweetbutt,” His accent sounded Mexican, “I got something here needs a cleaning. Get your tongue ready for work.” The other one laughed and moved to step behind me.

She said to the first one, “Ooh, I bet you got a cock that tastes of, let me see I’m guessing,” she narrowed her eyes and made her lips purse like a wine snob on a TV show, “don’t tell me, warm, runny enchilada cheese and mmm, I’m guessing... beer farts?” and she licked her lips. He moved towards her and she had to step back to keep the other one in sight. The first one said,

“You’ll be able to give me tasting notes, because my cock is about to be part of your calorie controlled diet for today, with a hosing of cum for afters.” They both laughed and the short one said, “I got a special seating arrangement for you to try while you savor the big sausage,”

Gypsy said, “You know whose hog this is, right?” as she turned to keep the short, fat guy with the bandana in view. The first one said,

“Yeah, but also I know that you ain’t sitting on it, so I don’t think you got any protection there.”

She was still turning, but she couldn’t keep facing both of them. She said, “You sure you want to make that bet, soldier?” but right then the tall one grabbed her from behind. He was as strong as he was big, and there wasn’t anything she could do to get out of his grip. She thought she’d better bide her time. As he held her the other one came up close in front. Put out a finger to pull her shirt forwards. Peered down into her rising hot cleavage. She tried to keep her breathing steady as he leaned his head down to sniff. Then he slipped his hand inside her bra. Grabbed her breast. Started to squeeze. She heard the first one say to him,

“That’s some handful of tit there, Boxer. Does it feel all sweet and doughy?” The vibration of his voice rumbled against her back. The one in front looked in her eye as he said, “they could do with a lashing of cream.” He slid a hand up her thigh and said, “I found the fish course,” as his fat fingers climbed to the top of her thigh and shoved at the side of her panties.

Using the grip of the big man behind to hold her steady, Gypsy snapped her knee up hard into the short biker’s chin. Heard a loud crack as his teeth slammed together and she rammed her other leg up hard, driving her shin into his balls. He groaned and snarled as he doubled over.

Balancing to swing a foot back and drive a stiletto into the man holding me, she felt herself lifted high and then flung onto the ground. Her arm hit the shale and she rolled. She heard the big guy say, “This one’s on fire. We’re going to have some real fun with you, sweetbutt.” He leaned over and his hand grabbed at the back of her head. He started to pull her up by the hair. He dragged her face towards his groin. With his other hand he began unbuttoning his fly. Then Gypsy saw his legs buckle as he sank hard onto his knees.

Hacker stood behind him, nursing his fist. He said, “You boys have had enough fun for now. We going to make an issue of this, or are you going to slip away quietly?” The big one kneeling lifted his head, thinking about it. He looked over at his pal Boxer. Boxer shook his head once. Hacker watched as the big biker climbed to his feet, and Gypsy saw a narrow look of hatred in Boxer’s eyes at Hacker.

The big one dusted himself off as he got up and said, “Okay, Hacks. No biggie, no beef, alright?”

Hacker said... Right...
 
And he watched the two bikers shambled away. Hacker went over to Gypsy. He said... Imagine, you all alone minding your business and a fight starts up... He shook his head... You look alright... and she told him, sure she was.

“The arm of my shirt’s torn though.”

He said, “Yeah. You got a little gravel rash on your arm, too.” She put a hand up to her shoulder. There was a small gash, a little blood and it was sore, but not nearly as sore as her pride. Hacker helped her up and touched her shoulder. Moved it back and forth gently with his hand. He said,

“Not dislocated, nothing broken.”

She looked up into his face and said, “‘Hacks’?” and he gave her a wry smile. That was the most expression she’d seen from him yet. He lifted her chin and looked into her face. She thought he was going to kiss her and she fought the instinct to close her eyes like a schoolgirl. That wasn’t like her. Maybe she was still shaken up.

He said, “If you still want that ride,” he said, “you need to know that there will be a price.” She told him she understood that. He looked at her and said, “Same spoiled brat. You have no clue what you’re getting yourself into.” She put out her lower lip and told him that she knew exactly what she was in for. But he was right, she had no idea.

The pain in her arm throbbed a little, but it wasn’t enough to blunt the thrill of riding on the back of Hacker’s lowrider, his unbelievable ass wedged between her thighs. She clung on as the motor shook itself awake and thumped a relentless beat that Gypsy felt though the saddle and right into her crotch. After the first mile or two of slicing through the cool evening and air, her panties were damp and her clit was buzzing. All the while, her hands slid along Hacker’s rippling ribs and his tight abs. She wanted to dive her hands into his pants right there on the bike. Haul out that armadillo.

She tried to think of a way that she might be able to lean around him, slide her head into his lap. Get it into her mouth and suck on him while they rode. Just the thought of it was almost enough to get her off. She figured she’d better get a hold of herself before they got to wherever it was that he was taking her, or she could just slide off the bike. She could end up as a quivering heap on the ground and that would not be a good look.

They left the highway on a side road, headed uphill in the dusk for a mile or two until they reached a turning with a heavy metal gate across it. Hacker stopped the bike, got off to open the gate, rode them in, then got off again to close the gate behind them. He took them on up for a couple of hundred yards more, until they came to what looked like a big old gas station with garage buildings and a couple of pumps out front. The gas station and garage buildings were was set out on a flat plateau, with scrub and trees behind, and good views of the hills and valleys all around.
 

The lights of the whole of the town twinkled in the nearest valley, looking like a map spread out below them. In the evening light, the whole place would have looked romantic, like a western ranch, if the fence had been made of wood poles instead of steel and chain link. And apart from the bikes. About a dozen Harleys, mostly black leaned in a line in front.
 

As they passed the rusting pumps Gypsy saw that where they would have had signs on the top for an oil company, they had the
Savage MC
colors instead. Over the entrance was a red neon sign that said,
Hell’s Kitchen, Bar & Grill.
Hacker parked up at the end of the line of bikes and led her inside.

In the downstairs room, the scent of weed came from four bikers who lounged with beers and a huge blunt. The biker with the spliff and a long beard looked lazily up at Hacker through blue smoke and lifted a hand in greeting. Hacker said, “Mo. Hey, bro.” He sniffed the air, “That’s the Oregon bud.”

The biker replied, “Righteous weed, bro,” the top half of his body rocking in a slow nod. Hacker said,
 

“I shall relieve you of that.” The biker handed up the blunt, saying,
 

“Partake. Be mellow, fellow.” Hacker took the joint and said,

“Anyone sees Bogart, let him know I’d like words.”

The biker was already building a fresh joint. He said, “That will be conveyed upon his return, brother, be assured,”
 

From the far side of the smoky haze, a bearded biker with a round belly peered over his shades at me. He said... Is that some ’tainment, Hacker?
”
 another one said,

“Something for us to enter?” and Hacker looked at her as he said,
 

“Clear the table, boys, and put on a nice cloth. We got a spread coming.”

Hacker looked into her eyes. Now she began to realize what the price of the ride was going to be. He was expecting her to back out, she could see it, and he was offering her this last chance. Looking around the room, there were four bikers plus Hacker, all with looks of raw, animal lust igniting in their eyes.

The urge to shout
NO!
and to run for the door was strong, but with her stomach quaking Gypsy held her ground. Nobody was going to bail her out of this, she had made her choice and she wanted to see it through. For once, maybe the first time, Gypsy was going to finish what she started.

As she dragged the tails of her white shirt out of her leather skirt and undid the shirt buttons, one by one she looked at each of the five bikers. They were all big guys, and she was still afraid. But she was very excited, too. Being the center of all of that testosterone, that lust, the thought stirred her deep in the pit of her stomach. And lower. The thought of those bikers all reaching for her, clawing for her, their cocks standing, hardening for her, coming for her. Cumming for her. Cumming in her. And cumming on her. Fear thumped in her stomach still, but the thrill beat in her crotch. Gypsy’s little panties were soaking.

Time to get them off. She lifted her skirt to slip them down, and a hand cupped the cheek of her ass. She dropped her waistcoat as she leaned into the hand, and two more hands slid along her legs. She moved her legs farther apart as she shrugged out of her shirt, her big, round breasts bouncing. Fingers found the lips of her pussy and hands slid into her bra, rolled and pulled and tweaked her nipples.

Her dark hair hung and her breasts swung as she slipped out of the bra. Hands were at the tops of her thighs, on her neck, squeezing her breasts, pressing and twanging her clit, spreading the lips of her pussy, squeezing the cheeks of her ass.
 

The bikers stood in a circle and Gypsy leaned back against one, stroking his jeans with her fingers behind her and looking in the eyes of the others across the circle. Then she turned, rolling sideways to the next hairy biker. She squeezed his cock through his jeans as she rolled on, till her pert, bare little ass pressed against the groin of the next biker. She looked in the eyes of the bikers opposite as she reached back to the denim behind her, unbuttoned the fly and found the fat, hot cock inside.

Her fingers wrapped tight around the cock. Gripped it. Pulled the skin down. Pressed it against her ass, between her cheeks. Between the tops of her thighs. All the time she watched as the men on the other side of the circle drew closer, reached for her breasts, put their hands on her pussy.

They all crowded close. Hands were all over her. They lifted her onto the table, and she knelt, legs apart, bare ass up, hungry wet mouth open. Breasts swinging. Now she wore only stockings, shoes and the silver chains, bangles and earrings. As she kicked off the shoes, Gypsy felt a hand on the lips of her pussy, holding her little wings apart, entering her wet opening. A hot, hard cock nosed from behind her, up under her stomach, against her mound.