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Sam grins cheekily.
“Hardly,” he says in a droll voice. “But I think it’s going to work out. Don’t you agree, Xenia?”
I nod, still trying to control my body’s arousal because goodness, what have I gotten myself into? Yet, I can’t wait for the real initiation to begin, and my curves are already humming with anticipation.
CHAPTER3
John
The girl is gorgeous, hands down. I could hardly believe it when she approached me in a bar because Megan Fox-lookalikes don’t just appear out of thin air, and yet here she was.
“Hi, I’m Xenia,” she said in a murmur. “You’re John, right? Of the Cannon Club,” she added in a meaningful tone.
I swiveled around on the bar stool, assessing the woman with one quick head-to-toe look. Long, silky black hair, big breasts, a small waist, and beautifully pink, kissable lips. Hell yeah, she was my type. Hell, she’severyman’s type so what did she want with me? Of course, I’m a good-looking bastard, but women like this can get any man they want.
“Yeah, I’m John,” I grunted. “Why, what’s it to you?”
The beautiful girl wasn’t put off by my gruff manner. She merely nodded and swallowed, hesitating a bit. Then, she uttered words that made me go rock solid in a New York second.
“So this is a bit forward, but I think I might like to pull a train,” she murmured in a low voice, looking up at me through her lashes. “You’re the man to talk to about that, right?”
I already knew the answer because fuck, Xenia’s so beautiful that my brothers wouldn’t hesitate to fuck her holes silly morning, noon, and night. Hell, we could start immediately if she wanted, but instead, I decided to proceed with caution. After all, who the hell knows? Maybe this was a set up by some undercovers hoping to snag the Cannon Club using a honey pot.
“Well, that’s a nice offer, sweetheart, but I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
Xenia’s cheeks colored pink and she stammered.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I just thought,” she said in a rushed voice, already beginning to turn away. “Never mind. I’m sorry for bothering you.”
But before she could go, I placed one hand on her arm and pulled her back because hell, this woman is just too beautiful to pass over, UC or not.
“No, it’s fine,” I said in a low tone. “We like to be cautious, but there’s always room for a gorgeous girl like yourself. Call this number,” I said, scrawling a couple digits down on a napkin. “We’ll get the process rolling, and see what happens then.”
Xenia nodded, biting her bottom lip until it looked utterly bee-stung and kissable, and then shot me a smile before slinking away.
“Thanks John,” she murmured softly. “Hopefully, I’ll see you soon.”
She was right because within a week, Xenia was spread eagle on our pool table, nude and luscious as we stroked her everywhere. The police would never let one of their UCs go this far, so that theory was clearly debunked. Regardless, it was a magnificent experience, and the curvy girl was incredibly responsive as she came multiple times on our mouths and fingers over the course of the night. Needless to say, the vote was unanimous, and Xenia was immediately approved to begin the Cannon Biker Club’s formal initiation process.
But yeah, the initiation rites are a necessity because there are so many women who come knocking on our door, begging to become train honeys, that we need a screening process. My brothers and I couldn’t possibly service all the women who offer us their bodies, and as a result, we’ve learned to put the brakes on things just to assess who would truly make a good candidate, and who’s going to freak out when the going gets rough. After all, we’re motherfuckers who don’t fuck around, and our train honeys are used hard … and often.
Plus, Xenia’s initiation comes at the perfect time because our latest train honey just left. It wasn’t a nasty departure. In fact, it’s kind of touching, even. Evelyn fell in love with Mike, a member of the gang, and they decided they wanted to get serious. As a result, Mike transferred to an outfit in Vegas, and he and Evelyn moved to the desert. Last we heard, they’re in a monogamous relationship and fucking like rabbits. Great for them, but that’s not how it works at the Cannon Biker Club.
Instead, we’re strictly gangbang land. It’s just the custom of our particular outfit, and if any woman (or man) wants to become monogamous with a partner, it’s fine. But they need to give up their membership to do it, and there are no ifs, ands, or buts about that fact.
As a result, my brothers and I share women, and it works out, actually. We like our ladies to be satisfied, and with five men around to do the deed, our train honeys basically walk around with a permanent limp and a permanent smile on their faces too. Sometimes, we even have more than one train honey servicing the club, and a favorite of mine was when we had sisters who were twins. Oh fuck yeah, that was a sordid experience, but Michelle and Sarah had enormous breasts, tight pussies, and even tighter asses. We regularly fucked those girls until their anuses were red and raw, but they always held their cheeks open for us, begging for more.
But alas, Michelle and Sarah moved on. To be honest, I think they’d had enough. They were dental hygienists by day, and one of them ended up marrying the dentist himself, while the other hooked up with a guy who worked in an Amazon warehouse. It was all good. It was time to move on, and after Michelle and Sarah, came Penny, Leandra, and then Evelyn. But now Evelyn’s gone, so we’re auditioning Xenia to take her place.
As Xenia reappears from her tour with Joe and Sam, I can tell from the flush on her cheeks, not to mention her tight nipples, that she’s going to be perfect. The woman is bodacious in exactly the way the club likes, and she’s obviously very horny as well. Yet, she’s curiously demure at the same time, and as I invite her to sit, she casts me a shy look.
“So what’s next, John?” she asks in a murmur. “Is there … I don’t know, more?”
I let out a throaty chuckle.
“Fuck yeah, there’s more. There’s a shit-ton more, and we’re just getting started honey. Come with me,” I gesture, standing to my full height. I’m six four and my head practically brushes the ceiling of the clubhouse sometimes. But Xenia’s not a small girl either. She’s maybe five seven or eight, and with heels, she comes up to my shoulder.
“Where are we going?” she asks as I lead her down the hallway.
