He gave a rueful laugh.

“Me neither, got up too early this morning.”

A thrill ran through me—he’d been eager enough to see me that he’d gotten up early!

“So you have business down here?” I asked, trying to sound casual. He shook his head.

“Just you, babe.”

I grinned at him like an idiot. So much for being cool.

“So what do you want to do?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Do you really have to ask?”

I laughed nervously. He might be gorgeous, but I couldn’t just jump into bed with him, not like this. I needed a little warming up first.

“Um, how about I show you around the area a little, maybe go down to the river or something?”

He gave me a knowing look.

“Chicken.”

“Maybe.”

“Okay, we’ll play this your way. You want to pack a lunch or go out?”

I thought about my bank balance—growing, but still low—and decided a picnic was the way to go.

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll have something pulled together.”

“You’d better change too.”

“Why?”

“Because you can’t ride a bike in that dress. Put on some jeans.”

“I’ve never ridden a bike before.”

Horse leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the mouth.

“Lookin’ forward to being your first, babe.”

Chapter Seven

It took more like half an hour, but I packed a lunch, a blanket to sit on and some condoms (carefully zipped into a pocket in my purse), just in case. Horse handed me a black helmet that looked like what a German army guy would wear—you know, the kind that flares out a little around the edges? I wasn’t quite sure how to adjust it, but he put it on my head and fixed the straps carefully, like I was fragile and precious. I loved how that made me feel. Then I got on the bike behind him, which was an experience in and of itself. The Harley was big and wide, and I had to spread my legs around his hips. My naughty bits didn’t miss the symbolism there. I wasn’t quite sure where to put my arms, but he grabbed my hands and pulled them around to his stomach.

“Hold tight,” he said. “Tap my stomach if you need me to stop for some reason and watch out for the pipes. They get hot.”

“Okay,” I replied nervously.

Then the bike roared to life and we pulled down the driveway.

How do I describe that first ride?

Well, for one thing, the bike vibrates. A lot. I suppose over time it would numb your rear, but for those first few minutes it felt like sitting on the world’s biggest sex toy. It didn’t hurt that my arms were wrapped tight around a hot, muscular guy who’d made it clear he appreciated my assets. I squeezed him tight as we pulled out onto the highway, holding on for dear life as he opened the throttle.

I’d promised to show him the sights, but he had his own agenda and apparently knew the area well already. After about half an hour, we pulled off the highway and headed up into the hills on a gravel road. This was much slower going and before long it turned to dirt. The next thing I knew, we turned down a narrow track that barely deserved to be called a road. It dead-ended at a turn-around. Horse killed the engine.

I dropped my hands, accidentally grazing his erection. I jerked my hand away, embarrassed, but he grabbed it and pulled it back, rubbing it up and down his length.

“Missed that, babe,” he said. I didn’t reply, feeling strangely shy, but when he let my hand go I didn’t stop touching him. I thought about his dick, how big it was, how hard it’d been the last time I’d seen it, all for me. I shifted on the seat, tilting my hips forward into the hard leather. It felt good to have my legs spread so wide… But I wanted to feel his shaft in my hand. I reached for his fly.

“Shit, babe, not gonna f**k you in the parking lot,” he said, laughing. I squawked, jerking my hands away, embarrassed. “Got a better idea. C’mon.”

I hopped off the bike, knowing my face must be bright red. Horse grabbed our picnic stuff and one of his saddlebags, holding out his hand. I took it and he pulled me along a trail through the brush.

Now, you have to realize that eastern Washington isn’t exactly the garden of Eden. It’s mostly desert and scrubland, with low, rolling hills. But as I followed him along a gully between two of those hills, more and more green appeared, along with a little trickle of water. We hiked along the stream for about half an hour until we reached a small, round pond that gave off wisps of steam.

“A hot spring!” I exclaimed with delight. Horse looked smug as I ran to the edge, reaching down to trail my fingers through the water. “How did you know about this? I grew up around here and I’ve never heard of this place.”

“I know all kinds of interesting things you don’t,” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. I snickered. But I stopped laughing and started running when he dropped the picnic stuff and lunged toward me. I screeched and giggled as he caught me from behind, pulling me back to the ground on top of him and tickling me. He lay on his back, arms around my chest, legs around mine, and held me in place as he reached down for the hem of my tee. He jerked it up and over my head, pausing to tickle me again every few seconds.

Then his hands went down to the fastening of my jeans.

“Don’t you dare!” I yelled, but he just laughed and ripped them open. He got them loose and pushed them down over my hips. At that, I bucked hard and he let me go, which pitched me forward. Before I could even think he was on me from behind, jerking my jeans down my legs. He stood up, holding them out of my reach triumphantly.

“You’re gonna pay for that!” I yelled, still laughing. I stopped laughing though and started running as he dropped the jeans and lunged toward me again. That worked just about as well as it had the first time, which was not at all. He caught me up and threw me over his shoulder, carrying me over to the spring, giving my butt a little smack, saying, “Quiet, woman.”

I screamed “No!” before I hit the water with a splash.

It was like jumping into a hot tub—not too deep, but deep enough I wasn’t in any danger. I surfaced, scowling at him and dropping my head back into the water to get the hair out of my face. Then I popped back up to glare at him some more.

Horse doubled over laughing at me.

I splashed him as hard as I could, which made him laugh more, then turned away to pout.

Mistake.

The splash he made jumping in nearly knocked me over, and then his arms came around me, pulling my back into the curve of his body. He’d stripped down to his boxers. His hands slid over me, stroking my curves, and I melted.

“Baby, you’re cute when you’re wet,” he whispered in my ear, sliding a finger down into my panties. He pushed my bra down with the other hand, rolling my nipple between his fingers as he toyed with my clit. I shuddered and arched my back as he flicked his finger faster and faster, playing me like a guitar. I guess I’d been in a constant state of arousal all morning, because I came like a firecracker.

“Holy shit…” I moaned, collapsing against him.

He kissed the back of my neck, then turned me around to face him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, kissing him with everything I had. This time it was my tongue taking over his mouth as I dug my fingers through his hair. My bra was pushed down below my br**sts, ni**les chafing against his chest, and everything between us was all wet and slippery and delicious.

Finally he pulled away, sucking in a deep breath. I used the opportunity to reach down between us and grab his cock. He loosened his arms, making it easier for me to reach, and I pushed the fabric of his boxers down below the length of his erection. I cupped the underside of his penis, drawing the heel of my hand up and down along the edge of the ridge around the head.

“Fuck, baby, that feels good.”

Encouraged, I gripped him and started pumping up and down, faster and faster, until his hands tightened on my hips and his breathing grew ragged. I slid my hand down below, cupping his balls, rolling them in his sac, then drew them back up and squeezed him tightly around the base. He shuddered, grabbing my hand in his and jerking it up and down along his cock, way rougher than I would have done on my own.

“Fuck me…” he muttered, resting his forehead against mine. “Like that, babe. Keep going, don’t stop.”

I pumped him as fast as I could, savoring his little grunts of desire and satisfaction. Then I felt a throbbing deep inside his shaft. His seed shot out between us through the water, and he grunted violently as he came. I caressed him slowly as he softened until he pulled my hand away, drawing it up and around his neck.

“You’re so f**king hot,” he whispered, lifting me and kissing the below my ear. “I can’t believe how hot you are. I hated thinking about you all slutted up and going out without me, letting some other guy hold you.”

“Well, I spent the night listening to Jeff moaning and barfing, so that was sort of a bust,” I whispered back. “None of them would have come close to you anyway. But I still wish I’d had more time to visit with Cara.”

He shrugged.

“Jeff did what he had to do.”

His words struck me as odd.

“What do you mean?”

“He needed you at home, so he asked you to stay even though he probably hated keeping you in, that’s all.”

“Oh,” I said. “Yeah, you’re probably right. He’s been so good to me, it was the least I could do.”

I laid my head against his shoulder and we sat there in the hot water, savoring the moment, urgency gone.

Then his stomach grumbled so hard I felt the vibrations.

“Hungry much?” I asked him, smiling.

“I ate breakfast six hours ago,” he replied. “Wanted to get here and see you. Would have come last night if I could’ve.”

“I hate to end this, but maybe I should feed you.”

“I won’t argue. Your cooking’s almost as good as your hand jobs.”

“Horse!” I sputtered, blushing. I leaned back and splashed his face. He dunked me and we wrestled a little bit before finally climbing out to get some food.

Fortunately it was in the nineties, so even sopping wet we weren’t too uncomfortable. It felt sort of strange sitting down to a picnic lunch in my panties and bra, but I figured it wasn’t much worse than wearing a bikini. Besides, my undies were pretty—black, with eyelet lace and polka dots, and just a hint of a push-up on top. The panties were boy cut, high in the back across my butt, and I enjoyed feeling Horse’s eyes on me as I set everything up.

It wasn’t anything fancy—just some chicken sandwiches, veggie sticks and watermelon, with cream-cheese brownies for dessert—but he seemed to appreciate it.

“Jeff’s lucky to have you around,” he said between bites. “I wish I had someone taking care of me like this.”

“You live on your own?” I asked, trying to sound casual. I didn’t think he had a girlfriend, but we hadn’t actually talked about it. Probably should have asked that before grabbing his dick in the pool.

Oops.

“Been on my own since I got out of the service.”

“Army?”

“Marines. Two tours in Afghanistan, that was enough. Came back, bounced around for a while, joined the club.”

I wanted to ask how it had been overseas, but it wasn’t exactly a question you just blurted out, so I just gave him a questioning look, hoping he’d volunteer something. He caught my eye and smiled, eyes crinkling just a little bit around the edges. Seeing those tiny wrinkles reminded me that I didn’t even know how old he was.

Hell, I didn’t even know his real name. Double oops.

“What’s your name?”

“Horse.”

“I mean your real name,” I replied, shoving his shoulder playfully. “I don’t know you at all, it’s weird. Tell me something.”

“My real name is Horse, that’s what I go by. That’s what the people who know me use. But if you want to see my driver’s license, have at it.” He reached over, snagging his jeans and dragging them toward us. He pulled out the leather wallet attached to his pants with a chain, flipped it open and slid out his license. I took it and giggled when I saw his name.

Marcus Antonius Caesar McDonnell.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he replied, grinning. “Mom had me while Dad was serving time. Wasn’t a long haul, but damn she was pissed at him for leaving her alone while she was knocked up. She loved history and was reading this whole big series about Rome, so decided f**k it and named me after some Roman general. Worst part? She didn’t even get the name right. Marcus Antonius Caesar wasn’t a real guy. Dad shit himself, but by the time he got out it was a done deal.”

“I can’t decide if that name kicks ass or is the scariest thing I’ve ever seen,” I said, giggling.

“It’s my name, therefore it kicks ass,” he replied gravely. “Seriously, though, I never used it. Dad’s the one who named me Horse, first time he saw me.”

“Wow, even back then?”

“Even back then,” he said, looking smug. “It stuck. Mom hates it.”

“So it says here that you’re thirty years old and live in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho.”

“Correct.”

“And that’s where the club is based?”

“That’s where my charter is. The mother charter is down in Oregon, we’ve got seventeen overall. Not the biggest, but we’re dominant in our territory, which goes a long way. We’ve got nomads all over the country too, and even some guys overseas fighting. The Reapers were founded by Marines after ’Nam, and that’s still where a lot of our prospects come from.”