Read Online Bitter Sweet Beginnings by Tara Oakes - Free Book Online

stroked, caressed and whispered to on a regular basis. He even gave it a name. It was Marilyn, after Marilyn Monroe, the second sexiest woman alive according to pop.
    The first, he always made sure to add, was Ma.
    I pinch the center of the material and pull hard, whipping the cloth tarp away, exposing the old bike. I get an instant hard-on.
    I haven’t ridden in days, and the need is strong. My own bike and I are like one, but this bike, my pop’s old bike…. it’s like the epitomy of riding experiences. I grab the choke, press hard and kick start the bike until those familiar grumbles rattle through me, making me feel alive.
    The bike has been sitting for a couple of weeks untouched, but it’s as ready as a virgin on prom night. I pay one of the local kids to pop over every few weeks to check on it. This bike is my pop’s legacy. It’s kept like a shrine and one day long after I’m gone, I hope Brendan will care for it just as I do.
    I take a deep breath, rev the engine, filling the old cavernous barn with the grumbling and let go, taking off down the drive to clear my head.
    The only protection from the whipping wind against my skin are my shades and my black t-shirt. It feels good, though, the stinging scratching against the flesh of my arms, my neck, my forehead.
    I feel the strength and the power of the of engine as I open the throttle and let the bike have the freedom it’s been deprived of for too long. Each turn, each swerve, the tires hug the asphalt, making love to it in its own way.
    There are some things that are meant for one another, things that are simply not complete alone. Things like the cut I wear and the tat that mirrors it underneath, on my flesh. The power of the bike between my thighs and the open road below, each specifically built for the other. My cock and….
    No.
    How is it that I can’t even manage to get through this ride without my thoughts finding their way back to her?
    I’ve always kept a separation between the man I am on this bike and the man I am off it. They never mix, they never cross. Yet today, right now, she’s seeping in and shattering that.
    I’ve gotten as far away as I can, both in body and, I thought, in mind, but it’s not enough. I’m miles and miles away from her, yet in some ways, closer than ever… because I can’t escape her.
    The softness of her voice as it soothes me, lies or truth, it doesn’t matter as long as it’s her that speaks them. The light that flickers in her eyes when she watches me fuck her, taking every inch and every ounce like air needed to live. She needed me as much as I needed her to need me.
    The first time I brought her to the clubhouse, no matter her underlying reasons, she somehow found her way into my soul. She didn’t know it then, neither did I, because it was the smallest and most subtle of things that did it. It was just something I felt, something I needed more of… like a drug.
    I was sitting at the bar, high on a stool. She sauntered out from the back, helping Lil’s recover after we had gotten her back from the Slayers. Her hair was bouncing with each step her gorgeous legs took in my direction. Those same legs that were wrapped around me just hours before in the dark.
    Her pink, plump lips were pouted, composing herself as she strutted through the crowd like a pro, aware that they all knew what she and I had done in my bed. Those were the same lips that were wrapped around my cock and that kissed my mouth, talked dirty in my ear, and screamed my name loud enough for the whole clubhouse (sleeping or not) to hear.
    Her tits were pointed up, her shoulders back, holding her head high and not giving one shit what any of those other eyes watching her might think. She was only watching me.
    It was supposed to be a one-night stand. That’s all I was looking for, all I wanted, but it was just a small exchange of words that somehow sealed our fate. I told her I’d give her a ride and to just sit tight until I was good and