Page 128 of Diary of a Biker Queen

Surprise punched through me and, for a second, I just bounced on the air mattress, trying to work out how I’d gotten there. When I finally found my voice, it was to squeak out, “Herb! What the hell are you doing?”

He stared down at me, my legs spread wide either side of his body. “You can’t sleep. You’re in pain. You know what’s good for that?”

I silently shook my head.

“An orgasm.”

I yanked my foot free from his grasp and kicked him in the shoulder. “You are not serious!”

He caught my ankle before I could kick him again. “I most definitely am serious.”

“I’m not having sex with you, Herb!” I hissed at him.

He blinked. “I never said anything about sex. I said I was going to give you an orgasm. Not that I was going to have one.”

I went quiet. “Are you serious?”

He shrugged. “I don’t like seeing you in pain. I can help.”

“But we hate each other. You think I’m a prissy bitch—”

“And you think I’m a chubby stoner. Yeah, yeah, whatever. Are you going to be in pain for the rest of the night, or do you want me to put my tongue on your pussy until you come so we can both actually get some sleep tonight?”

I remembered reading somewhere that orgasms were supposed to help with period pain. I’d never really tested the theory before.

I was getting pretty desperate for some pain relief though. And turning down an orgasm, with zero expectation of reciprocation, seemed a bit silly.

But Herb? Stoner Herb who farted and sang the wrong lyrics to songs and dropped canopies on my toes and generally drove me insane with how annoying he was?

The same Herb who currently had my ankles resting on his shoulders and was offering to help me. The same Herb who’d pulled me out of that storm and given up his bed for me.

“I’m not an asshole,” he said softly. “You’re going to have to actually give me verbal permission.”

I found myself nodding. “Okay.”

Surprise settled over his features. “Okay? Like, okay, Amber Malone, woman of my dreams, is going to let me suck her pussy?”

“I’ll change my mind if you keep talking like that! Stop giving me the ick.” I was running out of things to throw at the man.

But he just grinned and grabbed both sides of my panties, pulling them off my legs. He wasted no time getting back between them though, and then his scratchy beard tickled the insides of my thighs, and his warm, wet tongue slicked through my folds.

“Oh, holy shit,” I whispered, hand dropping to the back of his head because it felt so good I instantly didn’t want him to stop. I didn’t want to think about the fact I hadn’t had a shower since that morning, and that we’d been standing out in the hot sun all day and the only refreshing I’d done was with a packet of feminine wipes.

If I smelled of festival, Herb didn’t mind. His tongue flickered over my clit, circling the little bud, working it in a way that instantly had good feelings buzzing through my bloodstream.

He stopped only to shove his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean, and then found my opening. He slid one finger inside me, testing me carefully to see where I was at.

But his work on my clit had done its job in softening me up, relaxing me to a point I could take his finger easily and willingly, without resistance.

I didn’t want to think about the fact I was getting wet over this man I found so annoying. How could I not when his tongue was doing things that felt so good?

He alternated between pushing his finger inside me, working my G-spot, and licking me all over. Not just my clit, but my pussy lips, my opening, and the space beneath it, his hands finding a pillow in the darkness and fitting it beneath my ass so my hips were tilted up toward him and he could really devour me.

“Fucking hell, Amber,” he groaned against my thigh. “You taste so sweet.”

I gripped my fingers in his hair. “Don’t talk.”

He glanced up at me. “So you can pretend it’s someone else getting you off?”