Page 33 of Ink's Devil

His eyes close as though he’s thinking, then he gives me his reply, “Eight.” He raises his eyebrows.

I grin and give an uncaring shrug. Sounds like I’ve been there before. And though it had surprised me, it hadn’t been punishment at all.

Ink’s still staring at me intently. The next thing he sayssotto voceis a complete surprise. “I hope you’ve chosen wisely, little girl, as mine is the only biker cock you’re going to be riding. You won’t be fuckin’ any of my brothers. You understand?”

I gulp, not completely comprehending. Not that I like any of them more than him, but is he saying once we’re over, I’m out of the club, or, is he suggesting, we won’t come to an end? I don’t ask for clarification, uncertain he’ll provide an answer I want to hear.

“Who wants dessert?” Mom asks cheerily, completely oblivious to our quietly spoken and entirely, seated as we are around the dining table, inappropriate conversation.

“I could manage dessert.” But Ink’s eyes are focused on me, and somehow, I doubt it’s my mom’s apple pie he’s contemplating.

Chapter Eleven

Ink

Beth’s mom is a hoot, coming out with inappropriate shit which makes me laugh. I’m enjoying myself being here with the two women, something I’d never have predicted. Rather than wishing I was back at the clubhouse playing pool, I’m perfectly content right where I’ve found myself.

I settle into their home, fast feeling nothing like a visitor. Patsy suggests we watch a movie, and with my feet up on the coffee table—which apparently isn’t a sin in this house—and a beer in my hand I’m quite agreeable. Though my face falls when they put something calledLove Actuallyon, but it turns out to be hilarious and I’m doubled up half the time.

The character who visits the United States reminds me of when our chapter went to help Tucson out of some trouble they were in, and I met Wraith, the VP’s wife, Sophie. Part of me had wondered whether he’d married her just to hear her accent every day and those quaint UK English terms. I chuckle as there’s one in particular I remember.

“What?”

I enlighten Beth on what’s amused me. “The VP’s ol’ lady in the Tucson chapter is from England. She comes out with some shit. Calls Wraith a wanker when he’s done something foolish and when something’s good it’s apparently the dog’s bollocks.”

After laughing in disbelief, Patsy asks, interested, “You’ve got other chapters then, Ink?”

Half watching the film which they’ve clearly seen before, I run through our other chapters. That starts a discussion of the history of the Satan’s Devils. Then we get onto hobbies. I don’t have time for many other than the things I do with the club, so I describe how I love just taking off on my bike. Patsy proudly tells me what I already know, that Beth runs half-marathons. Gets placed regularly too.

A grin slides onto my face, and my eyes sneak down to her legs, relishing how they feel around me.

But I’m interested enough to ask for more information.

Beth replies, “A half-marathon is thirteen miles give or take. I can do that between two and two-and-a-half hours. Want to join me sometime?”

I work out, but I prefer muscle building. I’m not even certain I could walk thirteen miles without my feet blistering. “Tell you what,” I wink, “I’ll ride along behind you.”

A gentle snore from the armchair shows even in my stimulating company, Patsy has fallen asleep. Beth and I exchange smiles, and I take it as my cue to leave. Especially when I see Beth try to hide a yawn.

While I’d love to spend a few hours with my cock buried deep inside her, I have too much respect for Patsy to subject her to hearing me fuck her daughter in her house. As for my earlier idea to take Beth back to the club, time’s gotten away from me, and I know she has work tomorrow. For the first time that I can remember since I was in my mid-teens, I prepare to take my leave of a woman without my dick getting any satisfaction.

Beth sees me to the door, and stands there, hesitantly. When neither of us move, she says a goodbye and turns to go back inside.

It’s then I strike. I curl my hand out and grasp her shoulder, swinging her back around to face me, then pull her tight against my chest and bring my mouth to meet hers. It seems lazy, I don’t need to bend, just reach forward and she’s there. For some reason, I find that her body parts mirroring mine as they rest against them, immensely satisfying. We stand, kissing, the only movement being lips against lips and tongues against tongues, our pelvises pressed together, but both keeping still, as if each of us knows a little thrust here or a swerve of the hips there would drive both of us crazy.

Her taste is like summer, her perfume as intoxicating as any drug I’ve ever imbibed. Her touch, firm, demanding, her little moans showing her frustrated desire clearly matches my own. She’s beautiful, with brilliant blue eyes which sparkle in the light of the porch lamp overhead.

When at last we part, I lower my forehead so it rests against hers and run my hand through the loose strands of her hair. “Is it always blue?”

She laughs, the sound like a stream’s burble, happy and bright. “Nope. I go through the full range. Had this done to match my bridesmaid’s dress. May go purple or pink next time. Or even multi-coloured like a rainbow.”

“They can do that?” My eyes open wide.

“With a lot of time and money,” she informs me. I tilt my head to one side and half close my eyes trying to imagine it. Sounds like it could be a good investment.

The possible reason why she alters her appearance comes to me. “Do you colour your hair to give people something to focus on?”

“Other than my height.” Her eyes narrow. “Yes. It’s easier to deal with a ‘oh your hair is blue’ than a ‘just look at the size of you.’”

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