Ride Steady by Kristen Ashley
He went on like I didn’t make the sound.
“Not to mention, wandering a grocery store isn’t big with me. You’re in one, you act like you’re in a mall. So I’m seein’ if I gotta go to the store, I go alone. You gotta go, you go alone, but while you’re out, I contact my brothers just in case we gotta convene a search party. The way you are in a grocery store, you ever gotta go to the mall, you go without me. Deal?”
How did we get to talking about how we shopped?
I didn’t think it was a good idea to request that information.
I just said, “Deal.” Then I asked, “So he scowled at that old lady because he saw you and you with me?”
“He did what?”
“He gave a dirty look to an old lady,” I told him, then added, “It was very rude.”
“Who knows why he does the shit he does?” Joker asked. “But yeah, probably. I kicked his ass and left him out cold on his living room floor last time I saw him. Years later I’m with a cute, sweet, honey-haired, ex-cheerleader, once homecoming queen piece of ass. And before you say it,” he said when I opened my mouth, “all that is written all over you. He’s an asshole and an asshole to women, but he wouldn’t miss any a’ that.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“My ma was fuckin’ gorgeous, but even in his glory days, he couldn’t nail a piece like you, and I’m leanin’ on a cart while you toss in enough beans to feed chili to my entire Club.”
“You never know when the chili craving will come over you,” I said quietly. “Most of those were for the pantry, just in case.”
He stared at me.
Then he muttered (like it was a bad thing), “Jesus, you do it for me.”
“I do…” I paused uncertainly, “what for you?”
“Everything.”
I started breathing funny.
“You keyed him?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Vehicle and face?”
“The last was a mistake, kind of gross, and I don’t feel proud—”
“Butterfly, I need you to get this,” he interrupted me firmly. “I’ve been in love with you since high school. I’ll be in love with you when you walk down the aisle to me, push out our first kid, our second, our third, cry when they go off to college, nag at them to give you grandbabies, and sit next to me on our couch in our pad in assisted living. I got that. I got my family. I got my brothers. I’m healed. You do not have to go off keyin’ my dad’s car. I’m good. Stop tryin’ to make me that way. You already got me there.”
I loved all he said.
All of it.
But I was focused on one thing.
“You’ve been in love with me since high school?” I breathed.
“Did you actually look at that sketch I gave you?”
Tears wet my eyes.
He’d been in love with me since high school.
“Yeah, Carrie,” he answered. “It’s you. It’s always been you. It’ll always be you. Fuckin’ always.”
Aaron had said that more than once, and each time until the last I’d convinced myself to believe it.
Now Joker said it and I knew the difference immediately.
I didn’t have to convince myself of anything.
“Can I… can I…?” I started talking at the same time blubbering, “Are you angry with me?”
“Outside of wishin’ you’d told me what you were up to so if you needed that, I coulda watched, no.”
I kept blubbering but also started giggling.
“Now, Butterfly, tell me something,” he demanded.
“Wh-what?” I asked through laughter and tears.
“You go out with the girls anyway?”
I nodded, pulling in breath to control my contradictory emotions.
“We had cosmos.” I lifted my hand. “And I got ice for my hand.”
His jaw went hard and I thought I knew why.
“It’s okay,” I assured him. “Elvira got me ice really quickly. It feels a little tight but it’s fine.”
His eyes came to mine and my heart stopped.
“You’re tellin’ me you went out with your girls to get drinks wearin’ that top?”
“Um…” I mumbled.
“Um?” he pushed, tipping his head to the side.
“Only one guy bought me a drink,” I shared.
His face changed.
Wrong thing to say!
“Tabby told him I was Chaos immediately,” I went on quickly.
“Come here,” he growled.
I was two feet away.
“I am here, Carson.”
“Come… here.”
I stared at him debating the merits of walking those two feet.
Then I did it debating the merits of not walking those two feet.
I walked those two feet.
Joker lifted his hand instantly, hooked a finger in the top of my tube top and slid it across.
My legs started shaking.
“There’s clothes for when you go out with your girls,” he said softly. “And there’s clothes for when you go out with your man. Do I have to explain that fully, or do you get me?”
“I get you,” I whispered.
He ran his finger back but stopped midway and dipped it in the space between my breasts.
My lips parted.
“Your hand really okay?” he asked.
I nodded, focusing on standing and breathing rather than speaking.
“Good, baby,” he tipped his head toward me, “’cause you’re gonna need to use it.”
Oh yes.
I ran my teeth over my lower lip.
Joker watched.
I shivered while he watched.
And when I was done with my teeth and the shiver, he tugged on my tube top until I was pressed against him.
Then finally, he slanted his head and kissed me.
* * *
Dawn was kissing the sky.
The wind was in my hair.
My arms were around Joker’s stomach.
My cheek was pressed to his leather.
The sun was rising on a day after a night when I’d had zero sleep.
Neither did my biker.
But after he told me he’d loved me since high school, we got through my tales of lunacy, he’d divested me of my tube top in a way I knew I was dipping into my savings, going back to that store, and buying every color, then he made love to me on the couch, he’d asked me if I wanted to ride.
It would be our first time together on his bike.
So I’d obviously said yes.
My ride with Snapper was amazing.
My ride with Joker was everything.
Suddenly, the wind quit whipping my hair as he slowed then pulled over, throwing out a boot to idle at the curb.
I stopped being lost in all Joker and his bike were giving me and lifted up to look around.
I did this just as Joker let out a long, low whistle.
Then I saw where we were and my arms convulsed around him.
“Fuck, Butterfly, bumper to bumper,” Joker muttered as we both stared at his father’s truck. “Nice.”
I smiled.
Then I pressed close and lifted up so my lips were to his ear.
“You know, I love you too.”
He kept his eyes to the truck and asked, “No shit?”
I squeezed his stomach so hard he grunted.
Then he twisted his head, looked at me, and when he did, he was smiling, his teeth brilliant white and beautiful against the black stubble he was growing for me.
“I know you love me, Carrie,” he said softly.
“Good,” I whispered.
“Kiss me, baby.”
I pushed forward and kissed Joker on his bike at the curb by his father’s house. I kissed him hard. I kissed him deep. I gave him my tongue and kissed him wet.
He took it and kissed me back harder, deeper, and wetter.
When we broke it, I kept his gaze and said, “I’m feeling ill. I may have to
His eyes smiled as his lips muttered, “My good girl, playin’ hooky.”
“Just this once,” I whispered.
“Best get you home so we can get you to bed.”
I wanted that but even so, I gave him another squeeze. “We can do that, but before, can we ride a little longer?” I tipped my head to the side. “Please?”
“Whatever you want, Carrie.”
I smiled.
Joker touched his mouth to mine.
He turned to face forward.
I put my chin to his shoulder.
He pulled out.
The wind started whipping my hair.
And there it was, it came immediately.
As the sun rose in the Denver sky, both of us got it at the same time, together on the back of Joker’s bike.
We were free.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Do Better with That
Carissa
I GOT OFF Joker’s bike first.
When I did, I pulled down the skirt of my T-shirt dress.
If you told me a year ago I’d go out to a fancy dinner in a clingy dress and high-heeled strappy sandals, doing this with a biker on his bike, I would have asked to check your temperature.
But the meal was delicious. The company way better. Joker and I had finally gotten our fancy dinner date at The Broker. Fat shrimp. Juicy steak. Delicious wine (for me; Joker drank beer).
Just me and Joker.
Travis was coming home tomorrow.
So life was good.
And now, for some reason, instead of taking us home after dinner, we were at Ride.
Not at the Chaos Compound; he’d parked outside the steps to the office of the garage.
There were tall overhead lights illuminating the space, and I watched Joker as he got off his bike.
“What are we doing here, sweetie?” I asked when he turned to me.
“Build’s done,” he stated, reaching out to grab my hand. “The guy who commissioned it is comin’ tomorrow to pick it up. Want you to see it before he does.”
I smiled up at him big and bright because I wanted that too.
He walked me up the steps and let my hand go to unlock the door. He went in, flipping on the light as he did, and I followed.
He closed the door behind me, and I thought it was strange that he locked it but I didn’t ask after it as he grabbed my hand again and moved me to the other door that led to the garage.
We went through and I stood at the landing on top of the stairs. Joker hit switches and the overhead lights blinked on, filling the space with brightness.
The car, canary yellow with a plethora of sleek, fantastic swirling, curving, spiking red stripes leading from the wheel wells all the way down the sides, was shining on the floor.
“Oh my gosh!” I cried, hurrying to the stairs and down them, my eyes to the car. “It’s unbelievable.”
It was. Low to the ground. Amazing curves. A narrow slit for a windshield.
Road cool but so hot!
I rushed to it on my heels and took it in from a closer perspective.
It was even better.
“I’m scared to touch it,” I breathed.
“Not even my best and she acts like I painted the Mona Lisa,” Joker muttered from close behind me.
I whirled and looked up at him. “You can be humble because you should be humble. That doesn’t mean it isn’t unbelievable.”
He grinned down at me.
I loved that grin.
I loved that man.
“Thank you for showing me,” I said.
His hands came to my hips and he immediately started walking, shuffling me backward, murmuring, “You’re welcome, Butterfly.”
Since we were moving, I was going backward and doing it in heels, I lifted my hands to steady myself by curling my fingers on his shoulders.
He shifted slightly but kept moving me back.
“Uh…” I started, trailed off and was about to begin again when the backs of my legs hit car.
That was when I knew what he was up to.
And liked what he was up to.
“Joker,” I whispered.
He moved his hands from my hips, back to cup my behind.
Automatically, my fingers dug into the leather at his shoulders as I arched into him.
“You gonna wanna see all my builds when they’re done?” he asked quietly.
“Please,” I answered breathily.
“Then, baby, you gotta know, I show ’em to you, you give back by taking my fucking on the hood.”
“Oh,” I whispered, answering that demand by gliding my hands to hold tight at the side of his neck.
“We got a deal?”
“I’ve never… I… oh!” I ended on a cry as his hands slid down, fingers curling into the hem of my skirt and yanking it up.
“We got a deal?” he repeated and glided his hands in my panties to cup my bottom, skin against skin.
“Deal,” I panted.
He grinned, slanted his head and kissed me.
I slid my hands up into his hair and kissed him back.
He pushed my panties down until they fell to the floor of the garage. Then he grasped me where my thighs met my booty and lifted me up.
I felt the cold steel of the car on my behind.
I whimpered into his mouth as he bent over me, pushing me back, and I could feel the rough fabric of his jeans as I spread my legs to accommodate his hips.
“Like this dress,” he murmured against my lips, trailing his hand inside my dress up my side, up and up.
“I’m glad,” I whispered, moving my hands to his cut and shoving it over his shoulders.
His mouth went to my neck as his hands left me so I could shove his jacket down his arms.
I heard it slide to the ground as I went for his neck.
“We won’t scratch it?” I asked, dipping my hands down and pulling his shirt (not a tee, a nice one for our fancy date, though he still wore his cut because he always wore his cut) from his jeans.
“We scratch it, I’ll buff it,” he answered then slid his tongue up my neck to my ear as he glided his hand over my ribs to my breast.
“Okay,” I murmured as I reached inside his shirt, trailing up the hot skin of his back then changed directions and dug my fingertips into the waistband of his jeans.
He pressed his hips between my legs.
I nipped his jaw.
His mouth went from my ear to my lips and he kissed me.
I kissed him back and pressed up slightly as I trailed my fingers along the inside of his waistband, pulled them out and glided them down over his crotch.
He groaned and pressed his hardness into my hand.
I palmed him.
He growled and ground against me.
I panted against his lips and tightened my thighs against his hips, palming him harder, pressing and rubbing.
“Fuck, my hot little piece,” he grunted against my mouth, his thumb dragging hard against my nipple over my bra.
“Yes,” I forced out. “Hot,” I panted. “Joker,” I whimpered with need.
He slid his hand around my hip, down and through my wet.
That was my biker.
Always giving me what I needed.
I pressed into his hand and mewed.
He drove two fingers inside.
I arched, my head hit steel, my knees jerked up, and I moaned.
I felt Joker stay close but still move away, and I knew he was watching as his thumb rolled hard at my nipple, his other hand between my legs worked, fingers thrusting, thumb at my clit circling.
I grasped his hips with my thighs, rubbed his crotch with my hand as he ground into it, my other hand clutching at the flesh of his side, nails digging in.
At the same time, I rode his hand and whispered, “Baby, don’t stop.”
“Won’t, Butterfly, give me your show,” he growled.
I gave him what he wanted, writhing and squirming, arching a
Suddenly, my head jerked up and my eyes opened.
“Carson!” I cried, cupping his crotch hard, then my head fell back as the orgasm powered through me and I writhed and squirmed, arched and whimpered.
In the middle of it, I lost his hand but took his cock.
He was not gentle. He wasn’t slow. We weren’t making love.
We were fucking on his car.
I loved it.
Coming down, I worked with him as he pounded inside to build it back up, legs and hands, fingers and lips, mouth and tongue—his and mine.
Eventually, he demanded on a grunt and an inward drive, “Get there, Carrie.”
My hand in his hair fisted and I breathed, “I’m there, sweetheart.”
Then I was.
And he was.
On his fabulous car.
In a garage called Ride.
It was naughty.
It was amazing.
It was Joker.
And it was me.
* * *
The next evening, feeling Joker close, standing alert at my back as he was always even when he wasn’t in the same room with me (like he was then), I opened my front door.
I smiled bright and clapped my hands softly in front of me before I reached for my son in Aaron’s arms and said, “Hey there, Googly-Foogly.”
Travis twisted toward me, arms out, and I caught him, pulling him close, breathing in his scent, kissing the top of his head.
“Carissa, can we talk?” Aaron asked, and I looked up at him.
“Well—”
His eyes went beyond me. “Alone.”
I really wished he’d stop this.
I drew in breath and said, “Aaron, I don’t—”
“No,” Joker answered for me.
Aaron looked back at me. “Riss, I’m asking for ten minutes alone.”
“There’s really nothing you can say that Joker can’t hear,” I replied.
“As a courtesy,” he bit out. “Just ten minutes. You can’t give that to the father of your son?”
I studied him.
Someone was losing patience.
Darn.
I wasn’t feeling in a courteous mood. I had my son back. I had a biker who loved me. There was bonding to be done, TV to watch, and normal, easy, family stuff to be had.
Before I could get into it with Aaron, I felt Joker close.
I turned to him, and he had hands on Travis.
I looked into his eyes as he pulled my boy from my arms.