MARTINA
One thing for sure, Marisol makes the best margaritas. Certainly the best I’ve ever tasted.
After my confrontation with Chantel, the night speeds by at a dizzying pace, along with the pounding music and the craziness around me. All the strippers performed and are now circling the room, either giving lap dances or dragging the men off into the private rooms.
By the early morning hours, most of the ones still at The Tropics have paired off, and some of the couples are having full-on sex right on the main floor. Seems nothing is off-limits when it comes to outlaw biker parties. Twosomes, threesomes, male/female, male/male, and female/female, in all shapes and sizes. I envy their freedom and their ability to close off the real world, and live in the here and now. Something Eduardo does on a daily basis, but I’ve never been able to achieve.
Diesel moves us to one of the banquettes off to the side of the room, settling us onto the soft leather cushions. He wastes no time covering my lips with his, and I marvel at how such a big man can have such soft, gentle lips. His kisses are urgent but tender, and his hands have found every one of my hot spots.
Two seconds later, he unties the sash of my robe, eases the soft material off my shoulders, and flings it aside. Miraculously, I don’t feel exposed. Probably because of Marisol’s generous margaritas, but deep down I know the truth.
I need to release the pent-up emotions and overall stress of the last six months.
The isolation and boredom of my confinement were broken up with the anxiety of scamming the border patrol while strappingdrugs and illegal money to my body. I was under constant surveillance from the cartel with no end in sight, which brought on a heavy dose of anxiety.
I hadn’t planned on sharing drinks with an outlaw biker tonight, but I told myself I needed this, if only to ease my constant anxiety. Or to relieve the fear and helplessness of being held against my will for all those months.
Like the others in the room, I’m determined to concentrate on the here and now, and Diesel’s warm hands on my ass, lifting me to straddle his lap, have my brain going in all kinds of directions.
Wild Abandon
Living in the Moment
Freedom
My experiences with men were limited to a high school boyfriend who moved away after college, unmemorable online dates where the men didn’t remotely resemble their profile picture, or the deadbeats my brother would set me up with—most even more irresponsible than him.
When Diesel nuzzles his lips between my breasts, I shudder against him. His finger pushes the skimpy bikini top aside, and his tongue flicks at my hard nipple. He licks and sucks on the delicate flesh, and a moan escapes my throat. My stomach quivers, my hips jerk and my legs tighten around his hips. When he nudges the other breast free and pops that nipple into his mouth, I seriously think about the public sex thing.
I’m grinding over the hardness and length of Diesel’s cock wedged between my ass cheeks. The flimsy G-string offers no barrier against the obvious bulge in his jeans. It gives me a pretty good idea of just how big he is, as the sequins of my G-string tease my clit in a most erotic way.
His hand reaches between us and under the neon sequins of my G-string. “Fuck, babe, you’re soaked.”
My hips gyrate, and he cups me with the heel of his hand while he hooks his thick middle finger into me, perfectly hitting my G-spot. I’ve read articles about the G-spot; I’d heard girlfriends talk about the G-spot, but experiencing it—wow, just wow.
My legs shake, then tighten on either side of his thighs.
“Ohhhh, shit, shit, shit,” I gasp like the air is being sucked out of my lungs.
“You like that, babe?” He grins up at me, and I lean in, smashing my lips to his. Our tongues tangle and dance as his free arm circles my waist, holding me tighter. I deepen our kiss, wanting to taste all of him, wanting to be surrounded by him.
He pulls away from my lips. “I can make you come right here.”
The music has lowered to a deep pounding rhythm, keeping time with my pulse and the others around me.
I bury my face in the warm skin of his neck. “Mmmmm.” My body clamps tighter around his finger.
He pulls on the buckle of his belt, and the thick leather slaps together. The idea of doing it right here is intoxicating enough to think grinding over an outlaw biker is okay, but not enough to actually fuck with another couple only a few feet away.
Of course, the other couple is oblivious to us as they go at it like crazed monkeys up against the wall. The biker’s jeans hang off his hips with the woman’s legs wrapped tight around his waist as he screws her relentlessly into the wall. Her fingers grip his shoulders, with her head thrown back in ecstasy.
Diesel drives his finger higher, nods to the other couple, then smirks. “You like watching, babe?”
“Mmmm.” I lower my eyes, embarrassed at being caught.
“Look all you want. Shit, I’ll even ask them to join us.”
I swallow down my curiosity. “No, I’m good.”
