Page 25 of Misadventures of a Biker

“I’m not… I don’t,” she stammered. “I don’t know.”

After what I’d been through, I wasn’t going to do anything without her expressed approval. Once she gave it, I planned to rid myself of every ounce of pent-up frustration that I harbored. When I was done, she’d know what it felt like to be grudge-fucked by a two-hundred-and-twenty-pound biker who just finished an eight-year bit in the joint.

“Well.” I brushed my rigid cock against her thigh. “That’s something you’re going to need to decide. I can’t do it for you.”

The doorbell rang.

Clearly flustered—and maybe a little relieved—she quickly stepped away. After brushing the wrinkles from her dress, she fanned her face with her hand. Flushed to a deep color of red, she looked like she’d just completed a marathon.

I was hard as a rock and sexually frustrated. Looking at the flooring with two men I hadn’t seen in eight years was about as shallow of a desire as I’d ever possessed. I limped to the door and grabbed the handle.

“Wait!” she said.

I glanced over my shoulder. Still fanning her face, she looked back at me innocently. If she was nothing else, she was a cute little bitch.

I raised my brows. “Well?”

She lowered her hand and nodded. “I’m ready.”

“For me to open the door, or for me to look up your dress?”

“Both,” she replied.

Chapter Eight

Teddi

I was perceived as being a shrewd businesswoman. Acting that part was a lie. Playing it to the best of my ability was the only way I could survive in the real estate market. In reality, I was still the little girl who loved being led by the hand, told what to do, and complimented when I met the expectations of those giving the instructions.

In the presence of a man like Devin, I was incapable of acting with any degree of accuracy. I knew he could see through my facade. Being anyone other than my true self was the same as being caught in a lie and continuing to spin the unbelievable yarn, knowing all those within earshot realized it was nothing but a fabrication.

I was done telling the lie.

To him at least.

I fidgeted to make myself comfortable. I hoped I didn’t look like I just had finished having an earth-shattering orgasm. I hadn’t, but I came close when Devin brushed his chest against mine. I tidied my dress and tried to clear my head of the clutter. My panties were soaked, and my mind was mush.

Devin reached for the door. The muscles in his arm flared. I could tell he was in shape, but I’d had no idea to what degree—until he took his shirt off. The stark white wifebeater he wore clung to his flat stomach and broad chest like a coat of white paint. I tried not to stare, but I found his tattoos intriguing. His bare arms were covered with various pieces of colorful work. I darted my eyes from one to the other. As the door swung open, I knew one thing for absolute certain.

I was in over my head.

Two men, both built like lumberjacks, stood just outside the doorway. Dressed fractionally better than what I expected, they were wearing matching outfits of jeans, boots, and khaki-colored, long-sleeved shirts. A newer model Ford pickup truck was parked in the driveway behind them.

The bigger of the two men—a massive man with hands the size of Christmas hams—stepped toward Devin. His mouth twisted into a smirk. “What’s shaking, Bone?”

Devin shook his hand as if he hadn’t seen him for years. They embraced in a hug, each slapping the other on the back.

“Just trying to get this house sold,” Devin said. “How’s things on the other side of the alley?”

“Things are good, brother. Things are good,” the man replied. “Damned good to see you.”

“Good to be seen.” Devin gestured to me. “This is Teddi. Teddi, this is—”

“Frank,” the man said, gesturing to an oval-shaped patch that was sewn to the chest of his shirt. He stepped around Devin. His dark, shoulder-length hair dangled in front of his eyes, and his face was covered in a few days of stubble. He offered his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

His hand engulfed mine completely. I felt small and incapable. I glanced at Devin. He gave a smile of reassurance.

I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Frank.”