Page 4 of Her Biker Daddy

“I want names, baby,” he grunts out and I nod, not caring what happens to those jerks at all. “Who else?” he adds as his eyes hold me hostage.

“Then we have my mother who was having an affair with my ‘father’ which in turn resulted in me, but it was a secret affair so of course I’m a piece of trailer trash and a bastard that ‘doesn’t even know my father’s name’ according to everyone I went to school with. Then there’s the fact that she wouldn’t let me get a job before I finished high school that was outside of the house, so until last year, I could only babysit, and that paid shit. I don’t know why she was so adamant about keeping me in the house. I think it has something to do with the creep she was dating before the shower perv,” I tell him, watching his eyes darken even more with every word. “He was sent to jail by the feds when I was sixteen for making some seriously depraved videos, but when he was arrested he told my mom that he’d be out in no time. He never came back and after a year and a half of her sending him money, it finally came back as unknown recipient. That’s at the same time as I was graduating so I finally was able to get out of the house and get a real job—shitty as it may be.”

“Fuck baby, if I’d known I’d have taken you home with me the first time I saw you,” he says, his hand holding the back of my head and all I can see is truth in his gaze which I love. “Do you know who your father really is? He couldn’t have gotten you away from her?”

I can’t stop the snort that falls, and his brow lifts as I try to stop the laughter the mere idea of my ‘father’ stepping in to protect me causes. “Sorry, just trying to picture that.”

“So, you do know him?” he asks, and I nod. “Would I know him?” he adds, and I nod again. “Would the town know him?” he questions, his tone growing darker, and I nod yet again. “Who is he?”

“The ‘oh so honorable’ Mayor Jackson,” I answer, nodding as his brow lifts, his eyes widening as they glance over my green eyes, one of the one features beyond my red hair that I share with the man. “He knows. His wife knows. His kids know. I’m pretty sure most of the police department’s higher ups know, and none of them would do a thing to help me. They’d be more likely to hurt me like those two tried tonight than to help me.”

“Fuck baby…no more,” he grunts out, his hand coming up to my face, holding it and me gently yet firmly and I love it. “You’re mine now, baby. No one is going to look at you sideways let alone do anything to hurt you. I’m taking you home with me. Tonight, you can sleep in your own bed if you need, but starting tomorrow, you’re in mine even if you just sleep next to me for now, you got that? You’re mine to take care of the way I deem best.”

“In and out of bed?” I ask, pressing further against his hardness that’s poking my stomach still.

“In every fucking way, baby girl. You belong to daddy now and what daddy says, goes.”

“Take me home, daddy,” I sigh, leaning my head against his hand as my eyes flutter shut, heat and wetness exploding inside me. My nipples hardened to sharp points when he said the one word I’ve been whispering every night when I touch myself, picturing his face in my mind. If I wasn’t wearing this specific bra, he’d clearly see just how much I like hearing him call himself that, let alone how much I love being able to say it out loud now.

“Come on, baby,” he states, moving me the few steps back to the bike and he climbs on after grabbing his helmet. He pulls me forward, putting it on me before guiding my leg over the bike and onto it behind him. A little moan slips out when he grips my thigh tightly, pulling me further up against his back. “Are you okay, baby? Did those bastards hurt you there?”

“No daddy, I just like your hands on me,” I tease him, enjoying the way his hand tightens further on me before he releases it.

“Behave baby girl. I’m not taking you for the first time on my bike or in front of other eyes. That can come later,” he adds, and shit, my body reacts to that almost as much as when he called himself daddy. He wraps my arms around his chest, and I hold on as he starts the bike, resting my head against his back as he roars off, taking us away from this place.

My jaw drops a bit when he pulls through a gate, giving me my first view of the club’s compound. There are half a dozen houses along the road we head down, and the large building ahead of us grows even larger, until he pulls around the side of it and stops the bike in a garage.

He helps me off the bike, stowing the helmet as he grabs out a bag along with my purse, my car keys in his hands, as his other grabs mine, taking us through a door and into the huge building. I’ve no idea what this place was, but it somewhat resembles a school. There are rooms up and down the hallway. They’re wide and the floors have different tiles along the edges of it than down the middle. The walls have holes spaced evenly along sections that don’t have shit covering them.

“Was this a school?” I ask Tate as we turn a corner, and the space is more of the same.

“Yeah, it’s the joint county middle-school/high-school that was being built until it came out that the county commissioner stole the funds and they couldn’t afford to finish building it, let alone afford to then send kids out to it from all over the county rather than them staying at their smaller K through 12 schools. It went up for auction and the club bought it about fifteen years ago. It’s been through some internal remodels since then, but these rooms down here are used for members that live-in,” he explains, turning us down another hallway.

This part has to be something they updated because while you can still somewhat tell it was meant to be a school building, it’s definitely not like the ones where you have offices just inside the front doors. Our school had doors with huge windows in them and the space around the door was full windows. You can tell where that’s likely what was intended here, but instead of windows, that space is filled in with drywall, an extra heavy looking door in the middle of it.

There are walls built out from either side. You wouldn’t be able to see down the hallway if the door was open, and there are hooks and box trunks lined up all along both sides of the walls. Some of the hooks are empty, but plenty of others hold jackets and cuts like Tate’s wearing. Tate moves to one, putting his sleeve-less cut on a hook, then toes off his riding boots and stuffs his feet into a different pair of boots. They look pretty worn, not nearly as tall as the ones I’ve always seen him wear, and I’m curious about it as he takes my hand back into his, pulling me up against him.

“You can go barefoot or just shoeless in our place all you want, baby girl, but always wear shoes with thick soles anywhere else in the place. They know they’re supposed to clean up their shit, but sometimes fights break out, especially if we’ve got new prospects that don’t know their place and shit gets broken. I don’t want you getting cut on glass, okay?”

I nod, heat flowing through me because the look in his eyes when he said I can go shoeless…it’s almost like he knows. It’s not really possible though, is it?

“I like the pink ones the best,” he says, and my cheeks heat further as my eyes widen.

He really can’t mean what I think he does. “Tate…”

“My second favorite ones are the white ones with the fur around the top,” he whispers against my ear as his hands slide down my body, his big hand cupping my ass, making every bit of me quiver in the best way. “I always picture you bent over in front of me, your sexy ass pointed up my way, with a fluffy little plug sticking out of it when you’re wearing them.”

“How long have you been watching me?” I ask, my nipples once more hard little points under the layers. They hurt as the fabric tries to contain them, but I know it’d feel amazing for his fingers or mouth to be on them instead, and I desperately want that right now.

“From the first day I saw you. I wanted nothing more than to storm into the diner, bend you over and fuck you right then and there, baby girl. Took all of my willpower not to do it when you told me you were eighteen,” he adds and I flush, remembering the sneaky question he sent my way the first time he came in. He’d teased me when I went over to his table, asking if I was even old enough to be up working that early in the day. It was barely six-thirty, my first day working alone, so I hadn’t thought anything of telling him I was eighteen, until now.

“You wanted to know…”

“If it was legal to touch you?” he says and I nod, flushing further. “Fuck yeah I did, baby. Your pretty little face makes you look young still, but your curves say you’re all woman. I don’t play with little kids though, never have and never will. Never wanted someone to crawl in my lap, onto my cock and beg to be fucked, beg to be daddy’s good girl for life until I found you, baby.”

“How much…when did…what all…” I can’t begin to finish any of the questions, my entire face has to be flaming with color. My neck and even my ears feel hot, so I know it’s bad.

“Shit baby, what’s got you so embarrassed? I know you want to be daddy’s good girl, so this can’t be just because I said I want you to beg to be fucked now.”

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