and stroke up, rubbing my thumb over that wetness, and spreading it across the broad head of his cock.
His hips lift, and I take the hint, sinking my mouth down over him, taking him all the way to the back of my throat. After several strokes, his big hands grab me, and spin me around until I’m on top of him, my legs spread, and his mouth on my pussy. His arms lock tight on my hips, holding me immobile while he laps at me.
He brings me close to the edge so quickly I’m surprised by my own body’s reaction time.
He breaks his attention to growl, “Finish me off, princess, or you don’t get yours.”
I smile, and do as he says, until he’s comes long and hard down my throat with a roar. Then he rolls us, pinning me to the bed, and gives me mine.
When I’m floating back to earth for a second time, he covers my body and takes my mouth for a long kiss. I taste myself on him, and its erotic as hell. Finally, he lifts his head, and stares down at me, smiling.
“Goddamn, woman, you were made for sex.”
I stroke a hand over his jaw. “You’re not bad yourself, Memphis.”
“Gonna want more of that, princess. A lot more.”
I smile up at him, happier than I’ve been in years.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lola—
We walk outside to the bike under a clear, sunny sky. Still, Memphis pulls a bandana from his saddlebag, and runs it over the seats and chrome, drying the last of the droplets from last night’s storm.
As he squats down, tending to it, angry voices carry to us, drawing my attention to a small group of adolescents, standing in a group across the street, waiting for the morning school bus. They’re probably eight or nine years old. There are no parents or adults in sight.
“You’re such a dork. I’m gonna call you Davy the Dork.” A boy in a backward ball cap shoves another kid. “Davy the Dork.” He shoves him again, and this time the other boy falls to the ground.
“Stop it. Leave me alone,” the fallen child shouts back.
The other boys laugh, while one little girl tries to shove the bully away. “Stop it.”
The bully shoves her off.
Next to me, I feel Memphis rise to his feet, and I glance back to find his gaze zeroed in on the group.
He wipes his hands, and tosses the rag on the fender. “Wait here.”
“What are you going to do?” I ask, but he’s already headed across the street toward the boys. Of course I don’t obey his order, instead following a few paces behind.
Memphis steps in front of the bully, and backs him up until he’s pressed against a wrought iron fence that encircles a front yard. The bully stares up at Memphis, his eyes big, and his face white as a sheet.
“You got a problem with my nephew here, kid?” Anger radiates off of Memphis, and he’s suddenly every inch the badass Royal Bastard his patch proclaims.
The bully shakes his head, and stutters out in a shaky voice, “N-no.”
Memphis arcs his brow. “No, what?”
“No, sir.”
“What’s your name?”
“Johnny Haskell.”
“Well, Johnny pipsqueak Haskell, I’m his Uncle Memphis,” he jabs his thumb over his shoulder at the victim of this boy’s abuse, “and the next time you lay a hand on him, I’m gonna come lookin’ for you—and make no mistake—I’m gonna find you, and you’re not gonna like it when I do.”
The boy’s terrified eyes drop to Memphis’s MC cut.
“We clear?”
“Yes sir.”
“Tell him you’re sorry, and you better sound like you mean it,” Memphis growls, his face inches from Johnny.
The kid peers around Memphis to the boy on the ground. “Sorry, Davy. Won’t happen again. I swear.”
After a moment, Memphis steps back, and leans over the boy on the ground, extending his hand, and pulling him to his feet. “You okay, Davy?”
“Y-yes, sir, I mean, Uncle Memphis.”
The corner of Memphis’s mouth pulls up, and he gives the boy a light tap on the chin and a wink. “You have any more trouble with this kid,” he pauses to take in the others, “or anyone else, you let me know. I’ll handle ‘em.”
Davy gives him a trembling smile and a shy nod.
Memphis puts his hand on his shoulder. “I’ll see you later, dude.”
The school bus lumbers around the corner, its engine groaning as the driver moves through the gears. Memphis steps back as it lurches to a stop, and the door swings open with a whoosh. The children race