Motorcycle Man(128)

Hop, Brick, Dog, Boz and Hound, all members of Chaos, and their women had come up. We drank beer. We shot tequila. We ate chips out of the bag (I didn’t even put them in bowls!). We dipped those chips in jars of store bought dip that I also didn’t put in bowls. We laughed. We played music loud. Some of the boys and girls smoked pot though Tack didn’t and they didn’t press it on me. I thought that was cool since I was riding a happy vibe and didn’t want to discover the consequences of saying no to a high biker. And the night ended when most of the couples started making out (yes, even Tack and me) so Tack gave the sign that the party was over (he did this by announcing, “The party’s over”) and the boys loaded the girls up on their bikes.

It was a blast!

Now it was late and Chaos was gone and I was standing outside Tack’s wondering when I became the woman who would serve chips in a bag and then make out relatively hot and heavy with her man with a bunch of bikers and their babes in attendance.

Then I quit wondering because I was tipsy, happy, Chaos was gone and the real party could commence.

When Dog and Sheila disappeared, Tack released my chest but grabbed my hand and tugged me into the house. Then he shut the door and locked it.

This done, he turned me into his arms.

“You drunk?” he asked a question he knew the answer to, grinning his sexy grin down at me.

“Yep,” I answered, rounding him with my arms, leaning into him and allowing his sexy grin to do a number on me.

“How drunk?” he asked, still grinning down at me and I rolled up on my toes, pressing close and holding him tight.

“Smashed.”

“Good,” he muttered, let me go but grabbed my hand again and dragged me to the refrigerator.

There, I watched him open the door and tag a tub of Cool Whip.

“What’s that for?” I asked as he closed the door.

His eyes came to me.

Looking in his eyes, I knew what the Cool Whip was for.

Then I got a top-to-toe tingle that I fancied shimmered straight off my skin.

I grinned.

Tack didn’t grin. He tugged on my arm and dragged me down the hall to his bedroom.

Dinner was chips and dip, beer and tequila and good company.

Dessert was Cool Whip and Tack.

In other words, dessert was the bomb!

* * * * *

I woke naked, draped over Tack, smelling the musk of him I loved, feeling sluggish, mildly hungover and definitely sated.

I didn’t know the time since Tack didn’t have an alarm clock.

“Babe, I get up when I get up. Don’t need a machine tellin’ me what to do.” This was Tack’s explanation of not having an alarm clock and seeing as he was an early riser, it worked for me as when he rose, he saw to it I did too. Therefore, I couldn’t find out the time.

I did know the sun was shining bright but since it was Colorado in August this could mean anything.

I also knew it was Saturday so whatever time it was, it didn’t matter.

I lifted my head and saw my man was sleeping. As in out.

This wasn’t surprising. He drank a lot of beer, shot a lot of tequila and ended the night energetically in a sex marathon that lasted a long, long time where he insisted on doing all the work.

But I was up in a way I knew I was up. Not to mention, I had to go to the bathroom.