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There was no faking those kinds of orgasms, the way her pussy squeezed my cock over and over, how she stiffened, how her breath caught before the cries escaped her.
She’d had a great fucking time too.
But still, somehow, she wanted to get rid of me as soon as possible after.
I still didn’t know her fucking name.
I wouldn’t go so far to say I felt used. That was ridiculous. We were both consenting adults. We both chose to engage in casual, no names, sex.
That said, I felt… disposable.
Or maybe that wasn’t even fair.
The fact of the matter was that I wanted more. And she was denying me it. Which made me feel like a fucking petulant child being told they couldn’t have another cookie when they really wanted one.
I didn’t have a right to demand more from her.
And I couldn’t get all bent out of shape when I’d happily taken what had been offered.
I sighed as I climbed off my bike, reminding myself that it was useless as fuck to harp on it. Seeing the woman twice was incredibly lucky and against the odds. Seeing her a third time was almost impossible.
It was over.
I had to fucking move on and accept that.
It helped that by the time the guys rolled in the next morning, the OG guys were already around, talking about the new prospects, and a game plan for getting together during the open house to discuss first impressions.
“You’re home?” Huck asked when I’d rolled down the stairs.
“Yeah. Wasn’t feeling the club,” I admitted, shrugging. “You need anything special from me today?”
“Just keep your ears peeled. Figure the other guys are going to be hungover as fuck, so it’s good that you’ll be sharp,” Huck said.
“And, let’s face it,” Seeley said. “Levee is going to look for partying buddies. There’s nothing wrong with that, but we want brothers who are capable of doing the job and who have good heads on their shoulders, not just someone who can throw back shots.”
“Got it,” I agreed, nodding. Seeley had probably always been the driven and focused member of our group. Levee was the most laid-back and fun. I was more of the moderate one. At least when it came to work shit. No matter how down for fun Levee was, I could never get him to jump off a bridge with me. “How many guys are we expecting?” I asked.
“Twelve or fifteen,” Huck said.
“But we’re hoping to get a solid two or three new prospects out of the group,” McCoy clarified.
“Got it,” I agreed, nodding.
“But if everyone agrees the pool is good enough, we’re not opposed to four or five,” Huck added.
“Okay,” I agreed, glad to have something else to focus on other than my mystery woman.
The guys came rolling in then, bleary-eyed and sleepless. But within an hour, they were showered and caffeinated, and Eddie was at the stove, getting food going.
“Sounds like the party is starting,” Levee said as we heard the rumble of bikes and the slamming of doors.
Being an avid biker wasn’t exactly a prerequisite. I’d never been one before joining the club. Neither had the OG guys. But, inevitably, we all learned to love the freedom of bikes. The solace you found in taking a long ride when you needed to clear your head. So we weren’t going to hold it against the guys who were showing up in cars.
Another couple of hours later, the awkwardness and formality was long gone. The club girls were around, happy to have new meat to flirt with.
Food was scattered around the counters.
Liquor was flowing.
