Page 18 of Striker

I just shook my head and smiled. That woman was a saint and I was so glad to have her in my corner. I opened the bottle labeled ‘bubble bath’ and poured some in the tub. It smelled just like my Little Lark; scents of wildflowers with a hint of vanilla and honey. Sweet, pure, and perfect just like Lilah. I set up the soy candles around the bathroom, then lit them, turned on some of Lilah’s favorite country music on the bluetooth speakers, and turned down the lights. Some slow country song came on, setting the mood just right. I looked around and gave myself an imaginary pat on the back. I did pretty good for a rough biker guy and I was sure my Little Lark would love it.

Satisfied with my handiwork, I turned to go and grab Lilah from the kitchen. To my surprise, she was standing right in the doorway, hand over her mouth and a twinkle in her eye. I smiled knowing that I had completely surprised her. She deserved the best and I planned on making sure she had that for the rest of her life.

Chapter 13

Lilah

Icouldn’t believemy eyes. Striker had set up a whole bath for me while I had cleaned the dishes. My soap, favorite candles, country music playing over the speakers, lights turned down low, he had gone out of his way to make me happy. “Levi Walker. You did all of this?”

He shrugged and looked down at his feet, “Well, not all by myself. Your Mama may have had a hand in some of this...Okay most of it.” He chuckled and made his way toward me. Bending down, he helped me take my sneakers off and led me to the chair. I slowly sat down and let him help me take my scrubs off. I unhooked my bra and let it fall to the floor. Striker growled and turned his head toward the tub. Laughing, I stood up and took a few steps toward him.

“What’s the matter, cowboy?” I ran my hand down his arm, stepping closer, my breasts pressing up against his back.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Get in the tub, Lilah.” His voice was rough and strained, I knew I was driving him crazy. Striker had some pretty good self control, but I knew exactly what buttons to press to make him lose it.

I made my way to the tub and slowly got in. Sitting down, I let my head fall back, enjoying the warm water, letting the relaxing scents take over me. Striker was bent over the sink, still not looking at me. I closed my eyes and let myself be taken away for just a minute. When I opened my eyes, I could see him watching me in the mirror. Scooting down, I quietly let out a moan. I grabbed some soap and squirted it on my loofah. Slowly, and while eyeing striker, I started to wash myself. I stretched out my leg, placing my foot right on the edge. I started from my foot and made my way back up my leg, making slow circles, releasing little moans. I put more soap on my loofah and repeated the slow washing up and down my arms. Then I made my way toward my breasts. I dropped the loofah in the tub and squirted the soap on my hands. I looked over at Striker and could see him slowly losing control. His knuckles were white from holding onto the counter so hard, his cock bulging, begging to be released from his tight jeans. I knew he was going to blow any second. I slowly grabbed my breast and started to rub them. I grabbed them and rolled my nipple in my hand. Moaning, I let my other hand slide down to my pussy. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back and pushed my hand down.

All of a sudden, I could feel Striker’s hand on top of mine in the water, his other gently wrapped in my hair. He lowered his face down, his lips up against my ear. “Little Lark, this is not a game you want to play right now. I will win.”

I pushed my hand further, despite him trying to stop me. Laughing, I looked right at him and bit down on my bottom lip. “You may think you’ll win, but we both know I’m not the one who’s seconds away from losing self control. Come on in and play, baby.” I slowly let my fingers glide inside of me, letting my head fall back and moaned his name. “Oh Striker.”

In an instant, I was lifted out of the tub and pushed up against the tiled wall of the shower. Striker quickly stripped down, throwing his clothes into a pile on the floor and turned the shower on. He grabbed both my wrists in his hand and stretched them above my head, his hard body pressed up against my back. “Tsk tsk, Little Lark. You don’t want me to lose control. I’m not a boy anymore. I’m the President of the Devil’s Highwaymen. I’m a fucking man, Lilah.” He bit down on my neck, pushing his hard erection against my ass. His hand grabbed my waist, pushing his fingers into me. I pushed back into him, grinding myself into his huge cock.

“Maybe that’s what I want,Striker. Maybe I want you to lose control. Show me what a big man you are.” Striker turned me around, my wrists still locked in his hand. He leaned in close, lips right next to my ear.

“Do you know why they call me ‘Striker’, Little Lark?” He bit down on my earlobe, his hand moving toward my dripping wet pussy. Striker slowly slipped one finger in me, while kissing down my neck. I moaned, barely able to form a sentence.

“Oh God. No..no why?” He pulled his finger out and lazily moved it in circles around my clit. With his knee, he moved my legs apart, then thrust two fingers into me. “Jesus Christ, Striker!” He growled as he turned me back around, never letting go of my wrists. His hand stroked up and down my back, making me arch toward him. Striker kissed down my spine, then bit the top of my ass. He stood back up and I could feel his thick, pulsing cock pushing against me.

“So wet and ready for me, baby girl.” He rubbed his cock back and forth, so close to just slipping in me. “I earned the name Striker, Little Lark...” he pulled back and grabbed my hips. “Because I always know the right time to strike.”

He thrust into me, making me scream, “Oh God, Striker!”

He wrapped my ponytail in his hand and pulled my head back. “I told you I’m not a boy anymore. Now I’m gonna show you how the President of the baddest motorcycle club in the west fucks his Old Lady.” He pulled back out and thrust into me again, making me almost fall to my knees. Thrust after thrust, Striker never let up.

“Oh God! Oh God, Striker, I’m so close!” He bit down on my shoulder, hips pumping faster and faster into me. I could feel my body start to shake.

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