Page 11 of Ribbons and Role Play

WepickWendyupat her place. I called dibs to drive her from her house to our starting point, but I’m not sure I remember how to ride a motorcycle. The hints of white leggings in the gap between her black, thigh-high boots and her dress make it hard for me to think.

If she’s cold on the ride, I’ll have to rub on all of her cold parts. What the fuck? I sound like a perv.

Seating myself between her legs, my inability to think escalates. The pressure of her legs splayed around me, knowing that her pussy is open, has me ready to spin her into my lap so I can sink inside of her.

My innocent little stepsister has ruined me, even with the fast and impersonal sex she insisted on. It’s killing me not to have sex with her again so I can take my time making love to her. More important than what I want though is what she wants…space.

She’s had enough of men negotiating her pussy lately. My stomach turns every time I think of our father writing her into a contract.

If time will help her accept us, I’ll give it to her. Axel was a genius to invite her to the toy run.

I hate that she’s going to be on the back of Axel’s bike when we drive to the second location, and Nova’s bike on the way to the third, but she’s the best addition we’ve ever made to our toy run.

The kids are enamored with her. She helps them on and off the bikes. She corrals the little ones with ease, getting them to line up for pictures with the row of Harleys. She has a good eye for staging.

Our father is a dumbass for firing her. She’s the best graphic designer the corporation has, even without formal training. She’s going to school so she can up her game even more, but she already eclipses the other employees.

Visual organization isn’t the skill I want to help her develop. That’s just the thought I allow myself to have.

The thought I’m tamping down because it would get me arrested for public indecency is my desire to fuck her right here. Watching her light up as she talks to the kids, I’m ready to pump her full of babies. I hope I already have.

The Aubergine Affair normally has a birth control policy, but since the auction wasn’t actually for sex, the policy was waved. I didn’t bring it up because I wanted to get her pregnant. That has to be a pipe dream. Surely she wouldn’t have been willing to let any winner get her pregnant.

Her cheeks get rosier as the night goes on and I fall a little more in love with her at each stop. She’s as cheerful with the last kid as the first. She was made to be a mother.

When we get back to the clubhouse, Axel grabs a mug and packet of hot chocolate and preps it for her. When I pour shots of whiskey for the rest of us, she says, “Hold on a second. I like cocoa, but why don’t I get that?”

“Because you’re underage.” And you might be pregnant, but thankfully I shut my mouth before saying the last part.

“After what we did at the sex club, you’re going to call me out on that?”

“I have my reasons,” Axel says.

She relents with a pout, then sips her cocoa, her tongue darting out to lick the chocolate from her lips. My cock’s hard again. I really need to get a grip on this. Would this be the drawback to being with her? I’ll walk around with an eternal boner? That’s acceptable.

Other MC members continue bringing bags in from the back of the truck that we took around with us. While it’s a good visual to have us riding with huge Santa bags on our bikes, we pick up too many toys to handle all of them.

The four of us sit in a side room. Somebody left cards and dice on the table but that’s not how I want to pass the time with her. Wendy has both hands cupped around the mug, and I wrap my fingers around hers.

“Hey, Nova, go turn up the heater.”

She says, “It’s okay. I’ll be warm in a second.”

Nova heads to the thermostat. “I’d rather you be comfortable now.”

I want to hear her talk about the kids. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“Yeah. I can’t believe how many toys you picked up. I’ve heard about your toy run before, but I didn’t realize how big it is.”

Axel mumbles, “That’s what she said.”

I sure as hell hope Wendy didn’t hear him but she snickers. At least the overused joke didn’t offend her.

“Now it’s time to sort the gifts.” I hop up and grab a notebook from the cabinet. Flipping it open in front of her, I explain, “Here are all the kids, their ages, and types of things they’re into. We usually do a pretty damn good job pairing the stuff we collect with individual interest, if I say so myself.”

Nova adds, “It’s easy to pick out the kids who like fantasy and make sure to give them the toys that fit that. The kids who are thinkers get the more educational stuff. The kids who need creative outlets get the artistic items. It’s fun, and if we get it wrong, a kid might try something new and find out they like it.”

“Are you glad you’re trying something new, Wendy?” I ask her as I tighten my hold on her hand.

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