FoA Chapter 10

You never sleep well when you’ve been drinking. You have dreams about wrecking your bike and getting spanked… but not in a nice way. Dreams where Stark chases you through the clubhouse, swinging her club. You dream about Stef being mad at you for not dragging Ingrid into the parking lot and kicking her ass.

The weirdest dream is Jan standing over you, naked, jerking her huge cock. You shut your eyes and flinch as the hot, pungent cum falls on your face and chest.

You wake up bleary. It’s quiet. Your head is swimming… you’re still drunk, but awake… half asleep. Ingrid is in your arms. In the night, either she got close to you or you got close to her. She’s the smaller spoon, and your arm is around her. You’re totally hard downstairs, and pushed up against her smooth, full, perfect rear end.

The second you move, she wakes up. You feel that momentary stiffness in her body… then it’s gone. She settles back down with a sigh. Then there’s a slight movement of her hips, which you feel in your cock.

“Mm,” she mumbles, moving a little. It’s not clear if she’s awake or not, really. You don’t know. You keep still. If she’s still asleep, you don’t want to wake her. But then she shifts against you, and your erection rubs against her. You want to pull away or be polite, but you just hold your breath.

Ingrid snuggles back against you. She’s so soft and warm. You can’t take it. You put your arm around her and sigh… you have to breathe. You feel every movement from her body and notice every breath she takes. Her arm moves, and her hand… you feel her reaching back. You’re dizzy from ****, but her soft fingers touch your shaft, then wrap around it. She hitches her hips and spreads her legs, guiding you. You go with it, pushing to help her.

Your head slides between her damp lips down there, and she’s incredibly warm and wet. As good as it feels to have your cock up against a peachy ass, it obviously turns her on to have a fat, hard cock rubbing around behind her. You push in, hugging her to yourself. Your hand finds her pillowy breast and digs in, squeezing it as you enter her. She sighs, and your hips take over where your brain can’t.

In the quiet, your short, ragged breaths and her sighs are the only sounds. It’s like having your cock pressed into molten lava. Her walls squeeze and massage you. Her buttocks are soft pillows against your hips, and your fingers dig into her breast even deeper. You stop yourself from biting her shoulder and kiss it hard instead, no doubt leaving her with a horrible hickie as you thrust. It happens with no warning, and you can’t control yourself like you would normally. You grunt and hold her, shaking as you lose control below the waist and pump your load out inside. Her walls tease and squeeze you as you gush with a groan, embracing her soft body.

You close your eyes and hug her, twitching inside her, breathing her scent. The room is still spinning, and you willingly drift away.

You wake up alone in the bed. There’s some headache and grogginess, but you come back to alertness pretty fast as you sit up, groaning.

The first thing you notice is that Ingrid is gone. It’s clear that nobody’s here but you. It’s daytime… so you slept through the night. You’re also sore and sticky down there. You vaguely remember what happened during the night, but not really…

You swing your legs off the bed and try to think.

Sudden panic hits you. You paw around and find your phone. It’s there, and it’s not broken or anything. All your stuff is still here. Your wallet… you’re OK.

“Fuck,” you say with a sigh.

You are OK. You are OK. You have not forgotten that you are totally in the middle of nowhere. Ingrid is trusting you not to give the location of this place away.

Processing what happened. Choosing what to do. It’s a lot.

You shouldn’t fuck over Ingrid. She didn’t fuck you over, so that’s fair. And you’re pretty sure that you had sex with her last night, so that’s one more reason not to do anything that’s going to cause problems. You’ll have to forget the location of this place, which means you can’t be picked up here.

You put yourself together and stumble out into the warm, summer morning. It’s humid and gross, but that’s normal. You tough it out and make the exhausting walk all the way to the highway, where you go all the way to the nearest mile marker before calling for a ride from Vicky.

You picked Vicky because you have a feeling she won’t ask questions or judge you. She’ll see what you look like and smell the sex, but… she’s the only person in the club that you can’t just picture their reaction.

You hear the roar of her bike long before you see her. She looks a little hungover herself, but there’s no judgement in the way she looks at you.

“Where do you need to go?” she asks, offering you a helmet.

“Goldfinger,” you tell her. You have to get Stef’s car.

It goes well. Vicky isn’t an asshole like Jan. She gives you the lift you ask for, then leaves. You get Stef’s car and haul ass back to Gurlberg. It’s a process to get Stef’s car back to HQ, then your bike back to home, then to clean up and pull yourself together, but you do it.

Once you’re clean, smelling good, and dressed in fresh clothes, you do something that you don’t do very often: you cross the street and go into the coffee shop. There, you eat a pastry and drink a tall coffee, sitting at a table by yourself.

You’re trying to relax. You’re thinking about last night. Not just the woozy sex that you had in the dark with Ingrid, but what came before: your conversation in the bar. You have to report all this to Stef, or at least part of it.

You look around the coffee shop. There are some cute college girls here, but none are as stunning as that redhead. Or Ingrid. You came over here hoping to see the redhead, but you’ve obviously missed her. And… even if she was here… you just wanted a distraction.

You have to face reality. That means facing Stef. You text her, and she tells you to come to her house. You aren’t sure if that’s laziness or caution, but you get your still-tender ass on your bike and ride over there.

Stef’s house is in a good neighborhood. Just passing by, you would have no idea that the leader of a biker gang lived here.

Well, the bike out front is a clue… but it’s a nice house, and the yard and everything are perfect. You stroll up to the door and knock.

The door opens, revealing a short, blonde. She’s pretty curvy now, but you’ve seen photos that she’s slimmer in. She is extremely pretty, and her name is Jessica. She’s wearing a bathrobe. This is Stef’s wife.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” you reply with a smile, a bit uncomfortably. Jessica is not really ever around the club. You’ve never spoken to her, but she obviously knows everything. She doesn’t know you personally, but she must know more or less what you are. Maybe Stef has told her about you. Maybe not. “Is she here? My name’s Adella.”

She nods with a smile. “Come in. I’m Jessica.”

As you enter the house, Stef appears, fully dressed, but her hair is damp. She’s obviously just showered.

“Let’s talk outside,” she says curtly, stepping past you.

“Nice to meet you,” Jessica says as you follow.

“You too.” You close the door behind you as Stef sits on the front step, squinting in the sunlight. She looks up and down her beautiful street, then at you. You join her, wishing there was something softer to sit on than bricks.

She gazes at your bike. “Where’s my car?” she asks.

“I left it at my place. Stark was there last night. Have you heard anything about them looking for you or your car?”

“No. Everything’s quiet.”

“Then she didn’t see it, and she didn’t see my face. There was a girl selling product, but I didn’t get any information. I think I convinced her not to sell around here, but…” You gesture vaguely. “I have no idea where their goods are.”

“You’re too nice. I’d have beaten it out of her,” Stef says grimly.

“They’re just like us.”

“We only sell in our own territory, Adella. We’re the polite ones.”

That’s fair enough. It’s just that you and this other club are probably more alike than you are different.

“She won’t come back,” you say.

“Then we’ll need a different plan. And I need my car back.”

“What? Oh.” You understand what she means. It makes sense.

Last night you rode behind Ingrid on her bike, this morning you rode behind Vicky, and now Stef rides behind you. She doesn’t have a huge chest like Ingrid, but she still feels pretty good back there. You check out your street to make sure Stark isn’t lurking, then roll to Stef’s car, which you parked behind your building.

She takes off your loaner helmet and looks up.

“So that’s where you live, huh?” she asks you as she climbs off the bike.

“Yeah,” you say, embarrassed.

“Which one?”

“Above the Juice Bar.”

“You’ll have to show it to me sometime,” she says, holding her hand out.

You come to your senses, blushing, and give back her keys.

“Call everyone,” she says. “Meeting tonight. And be ready, because the red bead’s yours.”

“Wait, what?” You cock your head, puzzled. The bead? Oh, right. From the game.

“You didn’t come through, Prospect. Red bead’s the lightest punishment I’ve got. Just hope it isn’t Jan. Make the calls.”

You watch her walk toward her car, twirling her keys.

She’s acting cool, but she’s worried. She’s right. You didn’t come through. You got laid, and you aren’t in major trouble… or so it seems. But the club still has a problem.