Claimed by the Biker Giant

Chapter 5

Tank POV

A few guys aren't into parties, so I stopped going until later in the night, when the girls who showed up were already taken. I dislike the women who come here hoping to adopt our lifestyle. I prefer to use my hand rather than one of those women.

Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of women; however, I had a girl who pushed me to take her, and when I did, she ended up in the hospital, because I am not exactly a little man, and I ripped her apart. She needed stitches, and I have not been with a woman since.

Like my brother, we are both large men; he is six feet six inches tall, and I am six feet eight inches tall. He’s carrying extra weight, where I am all muscle. I pride myself on keeping in shape, but being this large has its downfall, and having a large d**k has had me worried about hurting another woman. No matter how much I might want to, I can’t; I never want to go through that again.

The Prez was the only person who knew why I wouldn’t join the parties; he was with me when we took the girl to the hospital, she forgave me, and tried to pursue me to keep her, but I couldn’t. Each time I started to get intimate, I had flashes of her screams, and my d**k went down like a popped balloon.

We were in the workshop, doing some minor tune-ups. As I prepare for our ride, I'm excited. When they bring the ladies, the men are usually in a better mood and on their best behavior.

I was looking at rebuild. I started it last week. We have a few wrecks that need to be started; some have been sitting here far too long. We can only go so far before we need Mike's help. None of us was a mechanic. I was scratching my head, as I was almost at the end of my knowledge, when I heard someone enter, and a soft perfume that shouldn’t be in this shed hit my nose. Stick’s voice reached my ears, and I lifted my head up to look in her direction.

“Who’s this Sticks?” The most beautiful girl I have ever seen had entered our sanctuary, a place where few girls are allowed, which made Sticks bring this beauty down to this dirt and grease, which was unexpectedly.

“That is Max, from the shop, Mike's apprentice, who I think had finished her apprenticeship and is doing something extra on Harleys and getting some specialized license,” Banjo said as he moved forward to greet them. The others stood up and moved forward too, making me feel like a dill for not recognizing Max. Although I have only seen her a few times from a distance, and she was usually deep in bike repair, I barely got to see her face. We have not been introduced because I wouldn’t have forgotten that beauty if I had.

Sticks introduced us all, and we greeted her before I decided I could use her help. I put the thoughts of what I wouldn’t mind doing to her behind me, not that I could do it.

“Max, come look at this wreck. I am stuck with what to do next.” I called her over on the bike I was working on.

“Tank, surely you could have waited for another day? She came for the party, not to work.” Sticks grumbled as Max walked to me. She was clean and smelled nice, and I had a fleeting moment of guilt for calling her over. The few times I had seen her, she was covered in oil and grease, wearing coveralls that hid her shapely figure.

“Max, are you sure?” Sticks pulled on her hand to get her attention.

“Yeah, I am more at home in here than out there,” Max said with a smile and turned back to me.

“What's the problem?” She asked me to move forward and inspect the bike.

I went into detail about what happened to the bike, what I had managed to do so far, and what I needed to move forward. Max removed her leather jacket and slung it over a nearby bike seat, then squatted down.

For the next two hours, Max worked on the bike with me, guiding me through the tricky bits I couldn’t do. The others came forward and used this time as a sort of training session, and Max didn’t seem to mind at all. We asked questions as she worked on the bike, and she used me to lift the heavy parts. It was teamwork, and we completed more repairs in that time than I would have on my own.

“Hey, Max,” Bruiser called out at the door. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded, and I wondered if we had done something wrong.

“Back here.” She returned to the call of her name.

He arrived and burst out laughing at us.

“Max, I invited you to a party, you know, dancing and drinking, and socializing. This was not what I meant as a party.” He was still chuckling when the Prez walked in, with Sticks on his arm.

“You still got her working out here?” Stick all but growled at us, when the Prez’s lady growls, we all listen. She’s the last person we want to make angry.

“What?” I was confused, Max didn’t seem to mind, and we all were having a good time out here.

“Hey, Prez. The party over?” Max calmly asked, but it sounded more like she had hoped it was.

“Not even close, babes.” The Prez answered with a smile. He had gotten closer to Max over the years she had been at the bike shop. He had often talked about the female mechanic and her sassy ways. I had thought he was exaggerating, but after spending a little time with her, I was hooked.

“We have nearly completed the repair job on Spider's bike. If we can have Max here for a few days, I bet we could hit the road by the end of the week.” I said it as it was my way of asking her to stay for a while and fix the bike. Spider was almost healed and ready to get back on his own bike.

“Would have to ask Mike about that, she’s his employee, even if we own the shop, he runs it, and I don’t get involved with his employees,” Prez replied contemplatively.

“He here?” I asked, as Mike often doesn’t show up at the weekend parties.

“Yep, came half an hour ago.” Sticks answered as she handed Max a bottle of water.

“Max, if Mike’s okay with it, would you work with us for a week, get some of these ready for the weekend ride?” Sparks asked, and I kicked myself for not considering that she might not want to spend a week here.

“Sure, if Mike doesn’t need me, we have several bikes in for service before the ladies run.” Her sweet voice carried across the warehouse, and the guys nodded in understanding.

“Thanks, babes,” Spike called out. Each one of us here enjoyed that she worked on our bikes; it might sound odd that we're letting a chick touch our bikes, but Max was not like most chicks. Who wants to sit on the bikes or lie on them? Max knows what she’s doing and has proven herself on numerous occasions. I wish I had known how attractive she was. Man, I had a semi since she walked in the door.

The Prez will even let her ride her own bike, a privilege few ladies get. She was more part of the crew; no other girl I know works on bikes like she does, and her reputation over the time she's been an apprentice has been exemplary. Not a guy chaser.

When word got out that our girl had been cheated on in the worst possible way, we all wanted to go and kill the man, even though half of us had never really met her, yeah, seen her in a distance, or legs poking out from under a truck, but never sat and talked with her before today.

She was fun, had me chuckling a few times, but most of the time in here, she had been all about the bikes, and not flirting, like most chicks do when around us. They see the glamour of the lifestyle, but it's not for everyone.