Page 11 of Harley
We finished the meal in silence, and Harley went and paid. It was sweet that he checked if I needed the toilet before leaving, and the waitress sent us another look.
Five minutes later, Harley was wrapping me up in a thick leather flying jacket. I instantly fell in love with it. He yanked a second pair of socks over my feet and followed them up with a pair of woollen outdoor socks.
“That should keep your feet warm. Please keep away from the pipes, as they’ll burn you. Put this on,” Harley ordered and handed me a helmet.
“I didn’t think MC members wore helmets,” I said as I shoved it on.
“Mom would have a shit fit if her children didn’t. Not all the brothers use them. Dad allows people to make their own choices. The law in South Dakota states all under eighteens must wear a helmet, and everyone, regardless of age, must wear eye protection. Mom made us all watch scary horror movies of biker’s brains being splattered on the ground. All of us kids wear one,” Harley said.
“Do your siblings ride? Did they join the club?”
“Jodie and Serenity ride. But women aren’t part of the MC except as old ladies. Although they rule the roost, make no mistake. My oldest brother, Fanatic, joined Hellfire MC, which is Rage’s brother club.”
“Why not Rage?” I asked curiously.
“Because Fanatic knew that as Dad’s eldest son, everyone would always move to protect him, and he wouldn’t be able to breathe. Rage has faced some shit over the decade, and we’re currently dealing with a raging asshole. We’re clean and work with the cops, but that doesn’t mean assholes don’t come looking for trouble,” Harley explained.
I wanted to understand what sort of troubles, but Harley swung a long leg over the bike.
“Mount up, Oakley. We’ve got an eight-hour ride before hitting Rapid City.”
I did as told because my skin was itching. We were too close to Illinois. The quicker we escaped, the better. There was too much on the line for my parents, Bronson, and Reverend Jefferies to lose. They’d keep hunting until they found me. Eighteen months were left until I was free and clear.
Maybe not a long time, however for me, it was a lifetime.
The secret account I had should be able to keep me off their radar for a while. I could move from state to state but would have to be constantly alert. Fake identification would help no end.
Hanging on to Harley on the back of the bike for the next four hours allowed my mind to come up with plausible hiding places and other plans. When we stopped for lunch, I was shocked at how much my thighs hurt. Meanwhile, Harley carried me into a diner without a hitch. Seems the long ride hadn’t messed with him.
Harley
Fuck me. Having Oakley wrapped around me was playing havoc with my cock. Half the time, the damn thing stood to attention. Especially when Oakley pressed those breasts of hers against my back—or when she sighed.
Apparently, my dick had singled out Oakley as a friend he wanted to get to know much more intimately. I was completely attuned to her every move. And Oakley was driving me fuckin’ crazy. Twenty-four hours and this woman was under my skin. Luckily, I had self-control in bucket loads. I would not be bending Oakley over a table and banging her until I was satiated. No matter what my cock wanted.
We stopped for an hour as Oakley needed a rest. I doubted that she’d ever ridden for so long, and four hours remained.
Oakley winced when I informed her how long there was left. But I’d give Oakley her due; she didn’t complain when we had to leave.
Oakley snuggled in again, and then I rode out. Four more hours of discomfort loomed.
???
Oakley hissed as I picked her up once more and carried her inside. The receptionist at the hotel smiled.
“Honeymooners?”
“Sort of. I need a room for a week,” I said, presenting my card.
Oakley muttered under her breath, but I ignored her.
“The honeymoon suite?”
“No, just a standard with a king-size and room service included, please.”
“And your name?” the receptionist inquired, looking between Oakley and me.
“Mr and Mrs Michaelson,” Harley replied.
