Drowned In His Desire

6

Her ass was the roundest, tightest thing I'd ever seen. She had small breasts, but she was a small girl and they looked just perfect on her, high, perky, pointed and making noticeable bulges in the leather. Her waist looked like I could circle it with my hands and she swelled out from there, every line saying "sexy," in nineteen languages. She was just a living doll. She even had on over the calf black leather boots with three-inch heels that showed off her incredible legs. She was little, but perfectly proportioned. Topping it off was that angel face and those huge brown eyes, her amazing hair floating around her and down her back below her butt.

No one had tried to kick my ass over the bike, but someone might to take her away from me. I prepared to do battle. This one was mine! I knew right then that I was prepared to do nearly anything to be with Dara. I felt like I was under some spell and I liked it.

We went out to the bike and I gave her her new helmet. She tucked her hair up inside and she looked like a badass biker chick, or at least a smoking hot one.

It was "Blues, Bikes and Barbecue" weekend in Northwest Arkansas, and we had a two-hour ride ahead of us. She wrapped her arms around me and I could feel all that smoldering heat against my back, hard little breast mounds pushing against me. I could have ridden for days.

We spent the afternoon, ate good food and listened to good music. We even danced a little. She was a ton of fun. We rode from place to place and we'd pull up beside some guy on his bike. Dara had her hair down, a blonde flag streaming in the wind, and they'd do a double take and give me the thumbs up. I knew it wasn't the bike from most of them, so it had to be that angel sitting behind me.

I should make it clear that I'm not into the whole "outlaw biker" thing. I'm not into drugs, crime, skanky women or guns. The whole "brotherhood of the road" thing is without appeal to me. I like motorcycles and that's the sum total of my attraction. For other people, riding is a way of life. I'm happy for them. For some reason, the "way of life" crowd seems to like to refer to women as "old ladies" and think they should be available to share.

I've never liked sharing that much. One of our stops got a little dicey when a couple of tattooed fat guys in vests and no shirts decided they'd get friendly with Dara while I was getting food. She was leaning up against a tree waiting for an open spot to sit while I got our barbecue. I heard a slap like a pistol shot. I turned around and Dara was facing those two morons.

"Keep your hands to yourself, asshole," she hissed.

I left my place in line. "Everything okay, baby?" I asked when I reached them.

"Yeah, this douche bag just grabbed my ass," she said.

"Your old lady got an attitude," one of them said. "b***h needs to learn her place."

She stepped back behind me. The two guys looked me up and down. I'm a big guy. I'm six three in my socks and I played inside linebacker on a NAIA team that played for the national championship. I had D I size, but not speed. It paid for my education. I stay in shape. I lift weights with the steroid crowd at the YMCA and I hold my own without the steroids. I'm about 240 now and I'm not Mr. Universe built but I have very big arms and pecs. Evidently, they decided that two against one evened the odds. The alcohol they had consumed didn't help their decision-making ability.

"Your b***h ain't very friendly," moron number one said.

"She is to me," I said. "It's the other bitches she doesn't care for much."

It took a minute for that to sink in. "Did you just call me a b***h?" he asked.

"That wouldn't be friendly," I said. "How long you two been married?"

Moron number two got it and decided to open the festivities. He thought he'd end it in one punch. He was slow. I leaned back and his big fist sailed two inches in front of my face. I had him by the wrist and he was off balance with the force of missing. I locked his arm under my armpit and broke it.

He screamed and fell, clutching his elbow and I kicked number one in the thigh with the heel of my boot. I felt something give in there and he was down too. I took Dara by the hand and we got out of there. She was looking up at me with those wide brown eyes as big as saucers.

"You destroyed those guys and didn't even try," she said.

"Yeah, well they were assholes," I said. "I want a pork shoulder sandwich, but I don't like the company here."

We rode down the street and found a little vendor that had some of the best pork shoulder I'd ever tasted. It had just the right amount of crunch to it and Dara loved it. I didn't like his sauce, but the pork was top notch. I'm not a big Memphis style sauce fan. Kansas City is more my thing. She hung on my arm the rest of the day and I was the luckiest guy there.

We left for home after nine, and it was nearly midnight when we pulled up at her house. I killed the bike and she got off, pulled her helmet off and shook her hair down. She came and leaned up against me while I held her.

"I had the time of my life today, Canyon," she said.

"Me too," I said. "If I take half a day off Wednesday, will you come and hang out with me?"

"I'd love to," she said. "You know, Canyon, I didn't like that guy grabbing my ass, but you can if you want to." Her eyes were down and I could see her blush in the security lights. I pulled her up against me and slid my hands down that leather, feeling the swell of her hips and I cupped her ass, pulling her up against my leg between hers. I squeezed that round, gorgeous ass and it felt sensational: tight, hard and resilient. She flexed it, giggling, and I could feel steel in there. Her lips against mine were alive, promising Eden in a tiny package.

She pulled back, burning me with the heat of her eyes. I reached my hand to her face, cupping her cheek and she nuzzled it into my palm. Then she was gone, the door swinging shut and leaving me restless and hungry.

The days dragged. She called me every evening at eight and I found myself watching the clock, waiting for eight to roll around. We talked for a long time, just nothing and everything. I discovered that I loved the sound of that little voice, the inflection of her words, the lilt she gave even the most inane conversation. She teased me, flirting outrageously and, laughingly, telling Julie to mind her own business a couple of times.

I was very eager to get my work out of the way Wednesday morning and I was gone by 11 AM. There was an art show down at the museum and when she got to my house, I made us a quick lunch and we went. I don't think she was six inches away from me all afternoon. I kept an arm around her shoulders and hers was around my waist. I'm not much of an art critic. I like it, but pretty much only the stuff that actually looks like something. I've always felt like any chimp with a brush can paint formless blobs. This was the stuff that I could tell what it was. We went downtown and window-shopped for a while, just holding hands and having a good time.

I had tickets to a dinner theatre and it was a good one. The play was a farce and the food was excellent. Dara was alive and vibrant, just sparkling when she looked up at me laughing. They had an intermission and a band played. We danced three times, two fast numbers and one slow one to finish. I pulled her up against me and she pushed her cheek into my chest as we swayed. When the play was over, we walked slowly to the car. I had my arm around her shoulder and she had hers around my waist. We were pressed closely together and when I opened her door, she turned in my arms and kissed me. She had to stand on tiptoes and pull my head down to reach me. It went on for a very long time, her little pointed tongue poking inside my lips and wrestling with mine. I crushed her up against me and her hot little body felt so good against mine that I never wanted to let her go. She broke the kiss with a sigh and looked up at me. Her eyes were half closed and she had a dreamy look in her eyes.