Page 3 of Her Mysterious Biker
I shift my gaze to her face, the clear shield on her helmet not hiding the pink blush on her cheeks. Unlike my darkened face shield, which covers my face and blocks the sun—something that can trigger my migraines, not ideal for a biker, but I’ve learned to adapt to almost any situation.
Except this one.
Having her lush curves pressed against my side with the promise of lying in her bed is almost as unbearable as the pain in my head. I stumble slightly as she guides me to her front door.
“Stay with me, big guy. There is no way I can carry you to my bed alone.” She huffs out a breath, tightening her grip on my waist. “Only a few more steps.”
I’m not sure how she pulls it off, but she manages to get both of us into her house and into her bedroom. She lowers me to a sitting position on her surprisingly large king-sized bed that takes up most of the space in the room. I lean back, needing to lie down, but she stops me.
“Not yet, mystery biker. I’m going to have to take off your helmet, shoes, and leathers.”
Fuck. She’ll see my scars if I let her do that.
I make a weak effort to push her arms away as she reaches for the strap on my helmet. Quickly, she lifts the helmet off my head, leaving me exposed to her gaze.
Through the pain, I meet her gaze head-on, needing to see the pity in her eyes, which I know is coming—it always does. From my childhood, when it first happened, to my teenage years, when I asked a girl out and got rejected, and through my time in the military, everyone always gives me that same look. The look of disgust at the angry, twisted flesh that marks my face. The only people who accept me as I am, are my brothers in the Savage Kings.
I hold my breath, waiting for that look to meet mine through her eyes, but it never happens. Instead, she places my helmet on the bed, leans down, and kisses the scars.
“My brave warrior. You’ve been through Hell and back, haven’t you?” I’m too overwhelmed by her caring acceptance to speak. “Let’s get you out of your clothes and into bed so you can rest," she continues.
She kneels in front of me and quickly removes my boots and socks, then stands. She slips my vest over my shoulders and down my arms, carefully placing it on a chair by her bed. Next, she moves to my Henley, slowly pulling it over my head, making sure not to move my head too much.
When her soft hands touch the button on my leather pants, I let out a groan at the contact.
Her hands freeze mid-motion. “Are you okay?” She blinks at me with those exotic eyes—one blue and one brown. I could get lost in those eyes.
“I’m fine, beautiful, it’s just my head. I get headaches sometimes.” I manage to say, trying to hide my desire for her, but failing.
“Okay, well, let’s get you out of these pants so you can be more comfortable.” She finishes unbuttoning the button, then slides the zipper down, her fingers accidentally grazing my hard length, and there is no way I can hide my large, hard cock from her gaze. Even covered in my cotton boxer briefs, it’s hard to miss how her touch is affecting me. “Oh.” Her breathing sounds heavy to my ears. “Um, I need you to lift your hips so I can slip your pants down.”
“Whatever you want, beautiful,” I say, making her cheeks blush a lovely shade of pink.
I place my hands on the bed and push down, lifting my hips to give her room to slide my pants over my hips and down my thighs. Just as she finishes pulling them off my feet, I collapse back onto the bed as an intense wave of pain hits me.
The last thing I remember before finally falling asleep is her soft voice mumbling, ‘I finally have a man in my bed, and he’s asleep.’ She tucks the blanket around my shoulders, something I don’t think anyone has ever done for me my whole life, and places a kiss on my lips—something else no one has ever done and whispers, “Good night, Orion.”
Sometime later in the night, I wake to find a warm body lying next to me. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around it and pull it closer, only half aware of my surroundings, but still enough aware that I don’t want to let this treasure go.
three
Stevie
“Pull yourself together, Stevie.”I silently scold myself. “He’s in pain. He doesn’t need you lusting all over him like one of the club girls.
I don’t know much about motorcycle clubs, only from what I’ve seen on television, but I can only imagine all the 'sweetbutts,'as they’re called, hanging all over Orion. I’m sure he’s used to having a different one in his bed every night.
The thought darkens my mood as I reach into my dresser drawer to grab a pair of underwear and a t-shirt to wear to bed. My hand hovers over the pink lacy panties I bought on impulse last week.
What would Orion think of them?
Feeling a little naughty, I grab the lacy panties and one of my older T-shirts, which reads ‘The Rotation of the Earth Really Makes My Day,’ that I found at a thrift store. It’s one of my favorites—I’ve worn it so much it’s almost see-through, and sadly, one of the sexiest things I own.
I quickly glance over my shoulder at Orion, still asleep on my bed, and my eyes settle on his leather vest in the chair by my bed. What would it be like to be his old lady and wear his cut?
No, I can’t do that without his permission. I turn back to the dresser, my eyes catching his reflection in the mirror as I take off my clothes, leaving myself completely naked. It feels so wicked to be naked in the same room with him, even if he’s sound asleep.
I slip my lacy panties up my legs, loving the feel of the soft lace as it tickles my skin, wishing it were Orion’s hands on my body instead of the fabric. The dampness between my legs increases, soaking the lace of my panties on contact, causing my body to heat up even more.
