Bikers Don't Ask Twice:: (Outlaw MC Erotica) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Roseleigh Gorge
what a real man looked like.
He seemed to be experiencing the same thought when he looked at me. Evidently I wasn't what he expected either.
"Wow." He said.
I bent my head to the side and let my aching neck muscles stretch. The ride here hadn't been a gentle one.
"Want a picture?" I said.
"You're not what I expected, honey."
"What the hell do you want with me?" I said.
The gentle look left his face and was replaced with something mean, but it didn't sit right. It was like he was forcing it.
"You just shut up. I'm gonna leave the stocking off and let you get some air for a sec. But then it goes back on."
My brain ticked over and I wondered how I could buy myself some time. I always liked to think that my intelligence was my best asset, and usually it was, but in this situation I was going to have to use something else.
I bit my lip and let my tongue poke out seductively.
"Maybe you should leave it off. I'd hate to go back to that thing when I could be looking at a face as hot as yours," I said.
He turned his back and went to walk away from me.
"Get me a little water?" I said.
He looked at me, turning the question over in his head as though he were working out all the angles fetching me a glass of water could have. Finally he walked across the room to the sink, filled a glass with water and walked back to me. I hoped he might cut my hands loose and let me drink, but instead he held the glass up to my mouth.
Now was my chance, I thought. Play it up, play the game. Pretend you’re into him and then, when he has freed you, kick him in the balls and smash the glass over his face.
I leant my head back and opened my mouth. He tipped the glass up to me, and I stuck my tongue out and waggled it seductively at the rim, taking my time to trace my tongue along it. The leader's face was transfixed for a second, but then he regained control over himself and put the glass down.
"You obviously know my name. So what's yours?” I said.
"Call me Brad."
"Is that your real name?"
"What do you think? Do kidnappers give their real names to their victims?”
"How are we supposed to talk properly if you won’t tell me your real name."
"We're not going to talk," he said, and then turned his back to me and walked over to the couch.
That was the last thing he said to me for a while, but mercifully he didn't put the stocking back on. I watched him as he drank beer and smoked, his mouth forming an O shape as he blew smoke rings toward the ceiling. Every so often he'd throw a glance my way when he thought I wasn't looking.
After a few hours the room door opened, and the gravely-voiced man stepped in. He was exactly what I imagined; a mean looking son of a bitch. He had a scar across his forehead and a bolt through his nose. He was obviously the older of the two, which made me wonder why Brad was the leader.
"You're back early." said Brad.
"I couldn't settle." said gravelly voice.
Brad sat up. "Well it's good you're back because I've been thinking. I want to get this bitch out of here. Let's ring up her daddy and get our ransom."
I could tell from the way he spoke that he didn’t mean this. He didn’t think I was a bitch, and he didn’t want me out of there. He was just scared of what I could do to him if he kept me around much longer. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to control himself.
**
"You've got to fight all your battles yourself." That was something dad had said to me on more than one occasion as I grew up, and he applied the mantra to everything. When I was getting picked on in school - you've got to fight your own battles. When the college was threatening to kick me out - you've got to fight your own battles.
Brad and the other one were at the other end of the room talking in hushed tones. I looked at them
He seemed to be experiencing the same thought when he looked at me. Evidently I wasn't what he expected either.
"Wow." He said.
I bent my head to the side and let my aching neck muscles stretch. The ride here hadn't been a gentle one.
"Want a picture?" I said.
"You're not what I expected, honey."
"What the hell do you want with me?" I said.
The gentle look left his face and was replaced with something mean, but it didn't sit right. It was like he was forcing it.
"You just shut up. I'm gonna leave the stocking off and let you get some air for a sec. But then it goes back on."
My brain ticked over and I wondered how I could buy myself some time. I always liked to think that my intelligence was my best asset, and usually it was, but in this situation I was going to have to use something else.
I bit my lip and let my tongue poke out seductively.
"Maybe you should leave it off. I'd hate to go back to that thing when I could be looking at a face as hot as yours," I said.
He turned his back and went to walk away from me.
"Get me a little water?" I said.
He looked at me, turning the question over in his head as though he were working out all the angles fetching me a glass of water could have. Finally he walked across the room to the sink, filled a glass with water and walked back to me. I hoped he might cut my hands loose and let me drink, but instead he held the glass up to my mouth.
Now was my chance, I thought. Play it up, play the game. Pretend you’re into him and then, when he has freed you, kick him in the balls and smash the glass over his face.
I leant my head back and opened my mouth. He tipped the glass up to me, and I stuck my tongue out and waggled it seductively at the rim, taking my time to trace my tongue along it. The leader's face was transfixed for a second, but then he regained control over himself and put the glass down.
"You obviously know my name. So what's yours?” I said.
"Call me Brad."
"Is that your real name?"
"What do you think? Do kidnappers give their real names to their victims?”
"How are we supposed to talk properly if you won’t tell me your real name."
"We're not going to talk," he said, and then turned his back to me and walked over to the couch.
That was the last thing he said to me for a while, but mercifully he didn't put the stocking back on. I watched him as he drank beer and smoked, his mouth forming an O shape as he blew smoke rings toward the ceiling. Every so often he'd throw a glance my way when he thought I wasn't looking.
After a few hours the room door opened, and the gravely-voiced man stepped in. He was exactly what I imagined; a mean looking son of a bitch. He had a scar across his forehead and a bolt through his nose. He was obviously the older of the two, which made me wonder why Brad was the leader.
"You're back early." said Brad.
"I couldn't settle." said gravelly voice.
Brad sat up. "Well it's good you're back because I've been thinking. I want to get this bitch out of here. Let's ring up her daddy and get our ransom."
I could tell from the way he spoke that he didn’t mean this. He didn’t think I was a bitch, and he didn’t want me out of there. He was just scared of what I could do to him if he kept me around much longer. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to control himself.
**
"You've got to fight all your battles yourself." That was something dad had said to me on more than one occasion as I grew up, and he applied the mantra to everything. When I was getting picked on in school - you've got to fight your own battles. When the college was threatening to kick me out - you've got to fight your own battles.
Brad and the other one were at the other end of the room talking in hushed tones. I looked at them
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