Page 59 of Pigeon

“Not much. When they need something, free labor or money, they call. Otherwise, no. I helped them out early this spring with planting because Dad had broken his leg. Didn’t stop him from being a dick, though. They expect and demand things but never appreciate anything. I avoid them as much as possible.”

“Then I’m not missing out on not having met them. Family can be a blessing or a nightmare. Sounds like we’ve had both,” Ivy says while grazing her lips against my skin.

“I got my first tattoo when I was 17 years old. I knew the reaction I’d get at home for it but didn’t care. My body, not theirs and all that. When my dad exploded, I knew I was done with being his whipping post. He grabbed his favorite whip, and the fight was on. Even at that age, I was pretty muscled up with all the hard labor from working a farm. I wrestled the whip away from him and pinned him to the barn wall. I never hit him, wanted to but didn’t, but I told him that he’d never hit me again. Things changed a little for me after that, but only because my dad knew I would win a physical fight. I left soon after. Worked various jobs, anything that kept me in food, and bought a bike. Eventually made my way to Denver, met the Angels, and have been here since.”

“I’m glad you found your club,” Ivy states. “Kind of wish you had hit your dad, though.”

“I like this vicious streak you’ve been hiding, woman.”

“Thank you for sharing with me,” Ivy says before flicking her tongue against my nipple.

“Share anything with you, honey.”

“How’d you get tagged with Pigeon as your new name?”

I laugh out loud before sharing that too.

“My first bike didn’t have a windshield. Itook a pigeon to the chest while riding next to Trigger, swerved, hit his back tire, and put both of us on the ground.Neither of us were seriously injured. We were slowing to make a turn, but both bikes had some damage. Trigger didn’t know I’d been hit by a suicidal bird and thought I just hadn’t been paying attention and hit his tire. He started ranting at me about being careless, and I kept trying to interrupt him to explain. The rest of the guys ran up to make sure we were okay, and Petey turned to Trigger and said ‘pigeon’ before yanking off some feathers that were stuck to my clothes. Tossing them at Trigger, Petey teased him, saying he was wiped out by a pigeon. Trigger was still spitting mad but started calling me Pigeon after that. It stuck and became my road name. I’m still grateful to this day that it wasn’t a woodpecker or a yellow-bellied sapsucker that hit me.”

Ivy laughs hard before gliding her finger to a tat of a feather on my forearm.

“That a pigeon feather?” she asks with a giggle.

“Yep.”

“I much prefer calling you Pigeon to those other choices. Not sure I could moan yellow-bellied sapsucker during sex and not have it ruin the moment,” Ivy chokes out.

“Smartass. How about you show me how well you can moan Pigeon then?” I ask as I pull her body on top of mine and plant my hands on her ass, grinding her hard onto my cock.

“Can I play first?” she asks with a sly smile.

“Fuck yeah,” I groan.

Ivy stands on the bed over me and pulls her shirt over her head. Wanting to enjoy the view, I lean over and flip the bedside lamp on. Lying back down, I point a finger at her panties. Grinning, she slides them down, lifts one foot and then the other out, and tosses them to the side. Grasping her calves, I stop her from moving. Taking my time, I let my eyes roam.

“Cup your breasts,” I rasp.

She does, and I feel my cock harden and rise.

“Take one hand and slide it down to your pussy, Ivy. Open yourself, so I can see everything.”

Once again, she complies with my wishes. I slide down the bed a little and toss my pillow to the floor.

“On your knees, baby. Straddle my face.”

“Thought I got to play this time,” Ivy whispers but does so while doing as I ordered.

“You’ll get your turn,” I answer while wrapping my arms around her hips and pulling her against my mouth.

It only takes a few swipes of my tongue before Ivy’s gripping the headboard and rocking against my mouth. A few more swipes, and I stab my tongue into her opening, listening to her moans of Pigeon. I quit thinking about anything but making her come, and it happens sooner than I expected. Nipping her clit, her body jerks in pleasure.

Moving quickly, I slide out from under Ivy and kneel behind her body. Pushing her down to her elbows, I slide my hand through her wetness, finding her clit, and pressing on it with my thumb. Her body jerks in response.

“Need to fuck you,” I mutter while gliding my cock between her folds.

“Please,” she moans.

Pulling back, my cock finds her wet opening and slides in. Pushing deep, I hold still for a moment, fighting for control. Being inside Ivy is always a battle to last longer than a teenager. I win against my body’s urge and stroke slowly in and out of the body I crave to stay planted inside of. Reaching forward with one hand, I find a breast and tug on her nipple. Using the other hand on her hip for leverage, I up the strength and speed of my strokes. When I get close to exploding, I stop again and wait for control.

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