Blood & Bones: Ozzy by Jeanne St. James

Chapter Eleven

She was losing her mind.

It was all his fault.

Tonight was not how she expected her weekend to end. She expected to be in bed, in the air conditioning, and watching a movie before falling asleep.

Instead, she was half naked on the back of a Harley about to have her second orgasm with a man she only met the day before.

This detour had not been on her itinerary.

But, holy smokes, she rarely ever did anything spontaneous and sometimes she even backed out of events she planned months in advance.

Like her class reunion.

She had to push herself to pack her bag, to load it in the car, to put herself behind the wheel, to pull out of her apartment complex and to steer her SUV toward Manning Grove.

Every step had been a struggle. Every mile filled her with more and more dread like a rising tide. But she pushed on, reminding herself over and over this weekend was about stepping outside a box. Not just any box, but the one she had drawn around herself.

Luckily, she had drawn that box in pencil and this moment was proof she was capable of erasing at least one line. Maybe even more.

Because right now, she wore no pants or panties and a biker who belonged to an MC was pumping in and out of her. But not to get himself off—though, that would come eventually—but to get her off. Again.

He had asked what she needed.

Her answer was simple. Nothing more than what he was already doing.

Because he was doing it so freaking well.

She had no suggestions for him how to get her there quicker, since she was already speeding down that path like a runaway truck with cut brake lines.

How could sex on a motorcycle be so damn good?

How could sex with this gruff man be so damn satisfying?

How did she end up here?

Of course, the only answer was he was causing her to lose her mind.

The vibrations of the engine rumbling beneath her, the way Ozzy moved his hips, the skill he had with his tongue and now his fingers on her clit, the powerful way he took her mouth…

It wasn’t only one thing, it was all of it.

And possibly even the thrilling, but scary, thought of getting caught having sex on a bike out in the open in a public state park.

Of someone seeing them.

Like two teenagers parking at a make-out spot. Something she never got to do, something she never thought she would ever do.

“Shay.” Her name vibrated against her lips that she had pressed to his damp throat.

She dug her short, but still sharp, nails deeper into his ass, encouraging him to keep going, to stay the course, because she was so… so… “So close.”

The motion of his fingers on her clit became more frantic, and when his hips stuttered for a second, she realized he had to be hanging by a thread.

One about to snap.

He wanted her to come, she wanted to come, but she also didn’t want any of this to be over.

However, he was a man and not a machine and could only last for so long, so she let herself go, let him sweep her away under the growing swells. Tumbling. Tumbling. Until she was there, surging against the breakers, their lips crashing together as intense tidal waves ripped through her body, taking him along, forcing him to tumble with her.

With one last powerful thrust, his grunt was captured in her mouth. Then they were no longer kissing, their lips barely touching as they both simply breathed.

As reality washed back in, the rumble of his Harley sounded deafening in the night. How no one heard that, heard them, couldn’t be possible.

She realized it wasn’t.

As flashes of high beams broke through the trees, he lifted his head and ground out a deep, “Fuck.” Then came a forceful, “Get dressed.”

After he pulled out of her and began to fumble with the condom, she climbed off his bike, grabbed her jeans and yanked them back up her legs, wiggling them into place.

She’d never gone commando in her life.

But then, she never had her panties ripped off her, either. By teeth, no less.

One more unexpected experience to add to the list of this crazy weekend.

She shoved her feet back into her boots, not bothering to lace them but tucking the laces inside the boots and pulling her jeans down over them to keep them from getting caught on anything.

The bright lights were coming closer as he threw his leg over his “sled” and quickly helped her climb on behind him.

Her heart was trying to pound a hole through her chest as she settled her behind back on the seat where she just had two intense orgasms.

“Time to fuckin’ go,” was her only warning before he twisted the throttle, dropped the bike into gear and shot past what had to be a park ranger in an SUV pulling into the dark lot. They were gone before whoever it was could turn a spotlight on them.

Now the thrill was no longer the chance of getting caught, but of the escape itself.

As they raced along a back country road, she threw both arms over her head and up in the air as if she was riding a roller coaster and whooped loudly. She shouted, “Hell yes!” into the dark night, her excitement straining her voice but not caring one damn bit.

“Hang on tight, sweetheart,” he yelled back to her in warning. “Last thing I wanna do is lose you.”

She giggled with a freedom and a joy she hadn’t felt in a long time, snaked her arms back around him and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. Then, feeling especially naughty, she ran her tongue up the center. He reached back and cupped the back of her head for a second, before slowly trailing his fingers down her arm, to intertwine their hands where hers was pressed to his gut.

His holding her hand came to an end too quickly, since he needed both to get them back to the motel safely.

Unfortunately, a lot quicker than she hoped.

He once again pulled into the parking spot next to her Lexus and shut off his Harley.

She was reluctant to move because as soon as she got off his bike, the night might be over. She wasn’t ready for that.

He offered his hand and she took it, allowing him to help her dismount. And as soon as she did, he followed. She hadn’t expected him to do so, but it filled her with hope that the night wasn’t over yet.

He stepped boot to boot with her, tipping his head down. “‘Night, Shay.”

Was he serious? Was he just going to end it right here? Right now? Say goodnight to her outside her motel room and then they’d go their separate ways?

She needed to speak out. All her life she’d kept what she really wanted to herself and only told people what they wanted to hear.

This is your time, Shay, to take control of your life, to speak out, to let others hear your voice. To express what you want known. He can only say no. And while that may hurt, it won’t destroy you. It’s life. Live it.

“I don’t want this night to end.”

“You ain’t the only one,” came his rumble, almost as rich as the sound of his bike’s exhaust.

“Well… since we’re on the same page…” She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and dragged him over to her door without any resistance from him. “There’s still a lot of time left before morning. And my bed’s closer.”

“That it is,” was his soft response close to her ear as he plucked her keycard from her fingers, reached around her to open the door and used his chest against her back to nudge her inside.

She needed no encouragement.

At least until he turned on every freaking light in the room, wearing a sexy damn grin the whole time.

It wasn’t long before his grin was gone and she hoped the noise coming from her room didn’t disturb whoever was working the midnight shift in the office next door.

And if it did…

Well then, she’d apologize if she had to.

Though, in truth, she wouldn’t be sorry.

She’d be totally freaking satisfied.

And hopefully, so would the man who caused her to make all that racket.

* * *

Ozzy wasflat on his back.

What the fuck? He never slept on his back. Mostly because when he did, he tended to snore and for the last couple of years, Lizzy had trained him to roll over by—

His eyes blinked open and he dipped his chin to stare at the weight on his chest.

It wasn’t blonde hair fanned over his chest but dark brown hair.

He couldn’t tell if Shay was still sleeping because last night he had undone her braid and her hair now hid her face. With her breathing slow and steady and her body relaxed against him, his best guess was she was still asleep.

Her dark hair now had waves that it didn’t have on Saturday. It had to be from her hair being bound into that tight braid. He grabbed a thick lock of it and slid the strands over his chest and his one exposed nipple, loving the silky feel against his skin.

He absent-mindedly rubbed those strands between his fingertips as he tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling to relive their night.

He discovered one thing. She fucked like she kissed.

That wasn’t a bad thing.

Fuck no, it was a great thing.

However, he could tell that once he had turned on every damn light in that room, she had tensed and began brushing her hands over her top in a nervous gesture, all while gnawing on her bottom lip.

It didn’t take long for him to convince her she had nothing to worry about. He also enjoyed every fucking second it took for him to do that.

In the end, he inspected every damn inch of her. Not only with his sight, but with his touch, taste and by inhaling her scent. Then did once more. But twice wasn’t enough. He could explore her body forever.

The woman currently draped over his chest was the exact opposite of the woman who left him not long ago.

Shay’s confidence hid just below the surface and took a little urging to come out. But it was there. He’d seen it.

She wasn’t an in-your-face type of woman, but her personality was more subtle, more subdued. A quiet strength.

He could tell it took her some effort to be outgoing, to make her wants known, but at least she was aware of it and made the effort.

Most of the women in the Fury sisterhood, as well as the sweet butts, had very strong personalities. Even Red might look and sound as reserved as Shay, but Sig’s ol’ lady had a spine of steel and her personality had to be strong to deal with the club’s VP.

Though, Sig would break his own back to save Red’s.

Never in his fucking life had Ozzy been in a relationship like theirs. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever want to be.

To be so connected, one relied on the other to keep living. It was like they shared the same blood in their veins and breath in their lungs. Ozzy wasn’t sure Sig would survive without Red.

If soulmates were a real thing, they’d be the definition.

His morning wood flexed and a clear string of precum connected the tip of his dick to the skin above his hip. He had no more fucking wraps in his wallet and last night he unfortunately found out that she had none of her own.

No surprise that she hadn’t expected to have sex this weekend with a man who was still practically a stranger.

After he used the last two of the three he always kept in his wallet, they got creative. Because fuck if he was leaving her long enough to go grab some from his stash in his apartment. He was afraid if he walked out the door, she might have second thoughts and not let him back in.

He kept waiting for her to have a “Come to Jesus” meeting with herself. To realize she’d made a mistake and chalk sex with him up to stepping outside her normal bubble, but ready to get back to her normal life. The one she was comfortable with.

So far, she hadn’t.

So far, she’d been into everything they’d done. The bike, the bed, and even once in the shower.

Last night the word “no” or even “I’m not sure if…” hadn’t been in her vocabulary. She never questioned anything he suggested and it was even fucking hotter when she came up with some shit on her own.

Throughout his life, he’d done just about everything and there wasn’t much he didn’t like or would say no to. He made it known that if there was something she’d always wanted to try and never had, he’d be willing.

Since he doubted she would leave tonight after meeting with Trip, he only hoped they’d get to play and explore some more. To expand her experiences while taking him along for that ride.

Maybe tonight, if she was comfortable enough, they’d do it in his bed where he had plenty of wraps and, while he didn’t have any really crazy shit, he did have some basic toys and other equipment she might find fun.

There had been plenty of nights when foreplay to him was simply sitting in a chair in a corner and watching two women pleasure each other. When he couldn’t take anymore, and he didn’t feel like finishing himself off, he’d finally join in.

He glanced down at Shay whose dark eyes were now focused on him, the hair falling away from her face. He wondered just how far out of her comfort zone sex with another woman would be.

“I’m never going to look at a Harley the same again.”

He wouldn’t, either. After last night, he decided he was never putting a back rest or sissy bar on his damn bike unless it was easily removable.

Throughout the years, he’d had sex on his sled plenty of times, but last night it had seemed different. Better. Even memorable.

“It’s strange,” she continued softly, a fingertip slowly circling his nipple. “I feel like I can be myself around you. From the moment I met you yesterday morning.”

The weight on his chest suddenly got heavier, not from Shay herself, but from her words.

He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her eye. “That’s good, yeah?”

“Yes.” She rubbed her cheek against his chest. “This has certainly been a weekend to remember. Though, I’m exhausted and swear I could sleep for a week.”

“Can sleep ’til your meetin’ with Trip.”

“Are you going to be there?”

Fuck yes, he had planned on it. “Want me there?”

“Yes, I’d appreciate it if you were since I don’t know him. And since you’re the manager of the motel, you should have some say in the website.”

“Then I’m gonna be there.”

Her lips curled up slightly at the ends and she sighed softly. “Even though sleeping the day away sounds like heaven, I can’t. I have a website I need to finish up today just in case your president hires me to work on the motel’s website.”

He was going to make certain that happened by shooting a text to Trip before the meeting. Not only would what she could offer benefit the club, her staying in town to do the work would benefit him. He’d also make sure that was a requirement, that she stayed in town as part of the deal.

He wasn’t being greedy or anything.

Fuck that, he was being fucking greedy and didn’t give a shit if anyone knew.

His hands slipped to her hips as she slid herself on top of him. Her warm pussy so close to his hard-on, so fucking tempting. Wrap or not.

She straddled his waist, planted her palms on his chest, pushed herself to a seat but then leaned closer, her long hair becoming a messy dark curtain around her face. Her eyes looked even darker than normal as she stared down at him, but said nothing as her gaze slid over his face.

Finally she whispered, “Your eyes are unforgettable.”

That weight in his chest shifted. “Just my eyes?”

“Your other parts are pretty good, too,” she admitted in a teasing tone.

“You got some good parts yourself.”

He brushed the back of his fingers down her cheek, dragged his fingertips down her delicate throat and didn’t stop until he thumbed one of her pink puckered nipples.

Some of his brothers were really into curvy, thick women. Wide hips, heavy tits, a smashable ass. Most of the sweet butts were thinner than they preferred, with only Crystal being a little curvier than the rest.

Then there was Billie who was built like a fire plug. She was strong and solid. While she didn’t do shit for him with how she looked and dressed, he would hit her up when he was in the mood to get rough and not worry about hurting her, like he would the others.

You couldn’t get too rough for Billie and she would actually make a man whimper, if asked. She’d even wear a smile while doing it. How she ever ended up as Whip’s girlfriend, even for the short time she had been, Ozzy couldn’t understand it.

Nobody could.

Out of all his brothers, Whip tended to be the most quiet. The most private. Being loud and obnoxious didn’t seem to be in his genes. It surprised the fuck out of Ozzy that the guy survived his time as a prospect and didn’t hesitate to accept his full patches.

At first glance, he reminded Ozzy of some all-American boy, one who was a high school baseball or quarterback star or some hometown hero.

Hooking up with a goth sadomasochist didn’t seem to fit him.

Ozzy wondered what was lurking under that boy-next-door appearance.

Liz never talked about any of his brothers she fucked, and when Ozzy asked her about Whip, she only said he was young and needed time to figure things out.

Whatever that fucking meant.

He thought about Liz who had curves in all the right places, but she had been big into working out and keeping herself in shape. Not gym rat shape, but more trim and tight since she ate whatever the fuck she wanted without giving a shit. He’d never seen her stress over putting on a couple of pounds after a long weekend of partying with the Fury.

However, the woman currently straddling him was slender everywhere. But the way Shay scarfed down that huge burger and a whole plate of loaded fries last night made him think her thinness came naturally and she didn’t have to work at it.

Her tits weren’t big at all, but still… they were fucking perfect. The small rosy nipples were budded tightly, the tips a hard bead.

Her stomach was tight, her waist narrow, her hips had a slight flare and her legs were long but slender.

The patch of trimmed dark hair framing her pussy was not shaved in any kind of cute shape, and certainly not waxed bare like most of the sweet butts. In truth, he didn’t care if a woman had a thick bush or was totally naked down there. He liked pussy in all shapes, sizes, colors and shag length. It only had to smell and taste good.

After their shower together sometime during the night, he had spread her wide on the bed and took his time eating her out. She came so many times that she eventually begged him to stop. Her clit had become so sensitive that she practically jumped out of her skin every time he touched it.

But all of that left a smile on her face he wouldn’t soon forget. He was sure his was so much fucking bigger.

“Lookin’ like you are, lookin’ at me like that, want you to ride me but don’t got any more wraps.”

“How do I look?”

“Hungry.”

“I am kind of hungry.” She rolled her lips under in a way that made him look forward to whatever was about to happen next.

He was sure it had nothing to do with eating breakfast.

And, fuck yeah, he was right.

She dropped her chest down to his and wiggled her way down his body, trailing her hard nipples along his skin, making his dick pulse in anticipation.

When she settled between his legs and licked off the string clinging to the tip, he breathed out a “Christ.”

Last night, he’d had his mouth on every part of her. He’d even rimmed her right after their shower, but she hadn’t had her mouth on his dick yet.

Thank fuck that was about to change.

He pulled oxygen into his lungs, held it, then slowly released it again as she wrapped her hand around the root and squeezed.

The anticipation was fucking killing him.

“I know you can’t empty your bladder until you get rid of this obvious problem, so I figured I’d help you get rid of it.”

“Thanks for your sacrifice.” His words turned into a long, low groan as she circled the crown with her lips and began to pump her hand.

He dug his fingers into her hair and tipped his head forward enough to watch her. A lot of women closed their eyes when they sucked dick, but Shay’s were focused on his face as she swallowed him as deeply as she could.

That was sexy as fuck.

Watching her might make him lose it quicker, but it was worth the risk.

Cupping his balls in one hand, she began to stroke them downward, tugging gently.

Fuck yeah.

She released the root to stroke the spot between his asshole and his sac, then began to push and massage, like she was on a hunt for…

What the fuck?

He tipped his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes, ignoring what her mouth was doing, to concentrate on the fingers on his taint instead.

Prostrate massages weren’t anything new to him and he got stoked whenever he found a woman willing to do them. But most didn’t know that the spot where she was pressing was another way to drive a man crazy without having to dig deep.

Somehow Shay knew just where to concentrate.

And, fuck him, there was no way this was her first time doing it. With how reserved she was, that surprised the fuck out of him.

He released a hiss when she pressed harder, dug deeper, making small circles as she alternated between licking down his length and sucking him, using her tongue to circle the crown and also dip into his slit.

“Fuck, Shay…” It sounded like a complaint, but it was far from it.

If she didn’t stop, he’d blow.

If she stopped, he might just shed a tear.

He was torn whether to let her finish him off or…

Without a wrap, he wouldn’t fuck her. He wasn’t willing to take that risk and doubted she was, either.

It didn’t matter when his decision became an easy one. With her mouth on him, her tugging on his balls and her fingers pressing on his elusive P-spot, he quickly gave up fighting the good fight.

When he threw in the white towel, he managed to warn her in time. “Gonna blow.”

He swore his brains shot out of his pulsing dick when he blew thick ropey cum all over his belly and up his chest.

A lot of women sucked a man until he came but forgot about the rest. Ozzy loved when his nuts were sucked and touched. He loved it even more when they knew how to give him such an intense orgasm.

Like Shay just did.

Shay slayed his ass.

Totally fucking slayed it.

And it was un-fucking-forgettable.

Since his fingers were still tangled in her hair, he tugged on it gently, encouraging her to come back up to him.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“Causing a mess,” she answered, her hand waving over his stomach and chest.

“Anytime you wanna make a mess like that, ain’t gonna say no. In fact, if I do, someone better get me a straight-jacket and a padded fuckin’ room.”

She dipped her head when she laughed and his amusement quickly fled. “Shay,” he murmured.

She lifted her face, her amusement gone, as well.

“Said this before, but need to say it again. Know women hate it when men tell them to fuckin’ smile and promise I ain’t ever gonna ask you to do that, but need you to promise me one thing… When you do smile or laugh, you don’t hide it from me. Especially if I caused it. ‘Cause if I caused it, it’s mine and I want it. Don’t ever fuckin’ doubt that.” When she didn’t say anything, he added, “Promise me that.”

She nodded. “I promise.”

“Know you thought you had a reason to hide it when you were younger and were surrounded by fuckin’ assholes. But, sweetheart, you don’t got one fuckin’ reason to hide it now. You get me?”

She gave him a little nod. “I get you.”

“Now, gonna clean up and then we’re headin’ upstairs to my place so I can make you breakfast and we can eat it out on the deck before it gets too ball-sweatin’ hot and the flyin’ blood-suckin’ bastards decide we’re their breakfast.” He reluctantly rolled out of bed and away from her, heading toward the bathroom.

Once he cleaned off the result of her mind-shattering blowjob, he stepped out of the bathroom to find her already dressed in flip-flops, denim shorts and a Pennsylvania Grand Canyon souvenir T-shirt, standing by the nightstand and running her fingers over his beads.

When he wore them, he always kept them hidden under his shirt. He rarely forgot to put them on because he felt naked without them. Like an important piece of him was missing.

But when it came to sleeping, sex or showering, he always removed them. And he’d removed them last night at the same time he’d stripped down so they wouldn’t get in the way or get ripped off his neck.

“Tell me about this.”

“Just somethin’ I liked.”

She picked the long necklace up and worked the beads through her fingers, touching each one and inspecting them. “No.”

No?

“It’s more than that,” she said softly, her face still tipped down as she continued to explore the length. When she finally got to the end, she said, “I thought it was a pendant, but it’s not.”

“Not really. It’s a bloodstone.”

“Is there a meaning behind that type of stone?” she asked.

“Supposed to give me strength, protection and courage.”

She lifted her face and her eyes locked with his. “Do you need it?”

“We all need it.”

“How long have you had this?”

Since the day his mother died. He had grabbed it from her bedroom before he’d been taken away and it was all he had left of her besides his memories. Just like his Zippo was all he had left of his father. He had panicked when he thought he lost it, but thank fuck he hadn’t.

However, if he lost the necklace he would go into a damn tailspin. Because of that, he had to make sure that never happened.

He normally never shared the story behind the necklace. For some reason, he wanted to share it with Shay. Out of anyone, she might understand why it was important to him since she had lost her father unexpectedly, too.

“It was a rosary my grandmother had passed on to my mother. My grandparents were strict Catholics. Because of how strict and overbearingly fuckin’ religious they were, my mother left the church the moment she left their house. From as far back as I can remember, my mother had never been a religious woman or went to church. Her parents actually shut her out of their life when she refused to baptize me. They even threatened to take me and get it done against her will.”

“Holy smokes,” she whispered.

“Yeah, that caused a break between them.”

“I’m assuming you’re not religious, either.”

“Fuck no. Anyway, hooked up with some hippie-like artist when I was… young. She called herself boho, whatever the fuck that meant.” She had taken his ass in for a short time after he escaped his foster home and before he landed in Manning Grove. She had given him a sexual education he’d never forget.

Peace, love and sexual awakening.

Of fucking course, he’d lied about his age to her, too. If she’d found out he was only sixteen and not eighteen, he would most likely have found himself homeless or sent back to the foster home he escaped.

“She was this self-proclaimed free-spirit and was into gems and stones and all that spiritual mumbo-jumbo. When she mentioned about the power of the bloodstone, I knew that’s what I needed to replace the cross. She did that, added some other pieces to make it more of a unique piece than a rosary and I’ve worn it ever since.”

“Strength, protection and courage,” she murmured, running her thumb back and forth over the bloodstone amulet shaped like a long tooth.

He needed all of that to find his mother’s killer. Hell, even now he needed it to wake up every damn day.

“It’s a piece of your mother.”

“Yeah.”

“If I’d have known that’s what that stone helped with, I would’ve worn one around my neck when I was a teenager. Do you think it works?”

Ozzy shrugged. He didn’t know if it helped or not. “Don’t get all that woo-woo shit, but figured it’d help me more than a cross.” Especially with what he had been planning to do at the time. If there was a god, he doubted that god would approve of Ozzy’s “eye for an eye” revenge.

Or maybe he or she would.

Shay carried the beaded necklace over to him. “You’re still naked.”

Yeah, he was. And the more the woman fingered his necklace, the harder he got.

She lifted it in her hands and he dipped his head enough so she could place it around his neck. Once she did, she adjusted the curved, colorful gemstone so it was hanging where it should. “Now you’re not.”

Her warm fingers pressed to his gut in the space between the amulet and his erection. She turned dark brown eyes up to his. “You loved your mother a lot.”

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

So was he. That night changed his life and took him on a path he never expected.

He grabbed the hand she had planted on his stomach and lifted it to his mouth, brushing his lips over her knuckles.

She gave him a smile. A smile he caused and now belonged to him. He was claiming it.

He needed to get her upstairs, fed and near his supply of wraps because he was too tempted to rip off her shorts and just say “fuck the risk.”

“Bring whatever you need to get your work done. Gonna check with whoever’s in the office to see if your room’s free for another night.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“Will figure somethin’ out.” That was a lie because nothing needed to be figured out. She’d be in his bed tonight and she wouldn’t need her room. But by keeping her room, she might not feel pressured.

He’d leave it up to her whether she wanted to give it up and stay upstairs with him for the rest of her time in Manning Grove.

He sure as fuck hoped so.

Because those small bits he’d been giving her were about to grow.

Just like his interest in Shay had done.