Page 33 of Biker's Prisoner: Property of Bucky

“I’m going to eat your pussy, little biter. Ain’t shit you can do about it but lie there…”

“I fucking hate you.”

I laugh. “Okay.”

“I hate all white people,” she says proudly.

“Okay.”

Zayna lets out one last desperate grunt as I slide my hand inside her pants, getting us so much closer to the promise I made. She squirms beneath me as if moving her hips could stop me from getting my hand past those panties. My heart throbs, ready to leap out of my fucking chest from how different she feels down there. Different from everything I know since I was faithful to my last woman and she was just… regular.

Soft, full lower lips greet my fingers and I’m so excited to touch all over them that I don’t realize just how slick Zayna’s pussy feels beneath my hands. I move two fingers forward and she’s so fucking wet that both fingers slide too far and enter her tightness against my will and hers. Zayna lets out a loud moan and her hips move forward on instinct, pressing her body against mine and willing me to go further. I thrust my fingers forward more. Too late to hold back. Too late to stop myself. And her pussy feels so fucking tight that I want to know more. I need to feel her…

Chapter Fifteen

Gideon

Iduck as the half-burned scented candle Tamiya throws whizzes past my head and nearly bounces on the dirt around where I’m sitting comfortably in my Adirondack chair with a Blue Moon beer. Iwasasleep, but I quickly jerked awake when I heard her slam the back door, and now assess how much goddamn trouble I’m in.

“Tamiya… My beautiful wife…” I ask tentatively as the angry pregnant woman comes stomping towards my peaceful resting spot. Her legs are just as skinny as the day I met her so that big baby bump looks like she’s going to bowl right over. I grip the armrests of my Adirondack chair, fighting the urge to get up and offer to help. She nearly scratched out my left eye the last time I tried that.

“Get up, Gideon.”

“It would be faster if you started with what I did wrong.”

“I threw the candle at your head. I think that was pretty clear.”

It woke me up, but I don’t know if I would call that clear communication. I stand up and spread my arms wide. Offering her a hug has to work. She’s pregnant. Tamiya softens a bit and comes close to me. I flinch as she hugs me, half expecting her totry sliding a pocket knife through my leather cut. She’s tried that before…

This time, it’s a genuine hug. My wife rests her head on my chest and I feel like a dick for ever suspecting her of having wicked intentions at all. She sighs and clutches me tightly, those perfect titties resting in the right spot against my chest. Explosions of warmth when I hug her just make me want more. I kiss the top of Tamiya’s forehead, ready to escalate this fight into something more…

I stupidly lose track of the fact that she threw a candle at my head. She sighs as I kiss the top of her head and I think I’m already halfway where I need to be.

Tamiya pierces through my delusion. “Why the fuck did you let the club leave a black woman in the middle of nowhere with your psychopathic, racist cousin Ruger?”

She didn’t have to say his name. I have one cousin known for both his racism and his psychopathy. But his name is absolutely not a turn on. My dick practically knots itself to retreat from this inevitable firestorm about to rain out of Tamiya. How is this my fault? And why does she think I have any control over Ruger or the club’s decisions? My body tenses up, but Tamiya clings to me tighter.

I fucked up.

“Baby,” I whisper, my heart pounding as I feel increasing desperation to smooth things over. “Chances are, she fell in love with Ruger.”

“Gideon? Do you think I fell out of a coconut tree?”

I officially have dry mouth. I wish I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol either. I can’t tell if this is part of one of Tamiya’s racial sensitivity questionnaires or if there’s some other deeper meaning I ought to be aware of.

“Baby,” I whisper again. “I just think how beautiful you look carrying our child.”

If I remind her that we’re having a baby together, I think it will lower her chances of ending my life. It’s worked for me so far. Tamiya’s hands wander to my lower back. My wife can cause tension just as easily as she can heal it.

“Okay,” she says gently. If I didn’t pass that test with flying colors, I at least got a C+. “I need you to take me over there so we can get this woman free from Ruger and then you won’t have anything to worry about.”

I don’t have to ask if it’s a threat.

“Tamiya…”

Her hand moves over my chest and my heart pounds nervously as she cups my dick outside my pants. Okay, now I’m confused. Is this a threat? Or does she just enjoy this tension between us as much as I do…

“Baby?” Tamiya says sweetly, her hand on the outside of my pants feels like heaven. “I need you to do this… Take me out there and we can… figure it out.”

---