The roar of the Harley was the only music she listened to anymore. It wasn’t the slow, lazy purr of a tourist or a weekend warrior. This was a deep, thunderous, impatient growl that vibrated up through the cracked concrete and into the soles of her worn boots. Her music. Sabrina leaned against the brick wall, the rough texture catching on her cheap leather jacket. Sixty-nine years on this earth, most of them hard, and yet a familiar, electric thrill shot through her the moment those headlights swept over her thick curves.
The bike, a hulking chromed beast, came to a stop right in front of her. The engine cut, and the sudden silence was louder than the noise had been. Harley swung a leg off, his presence seeming to swallow the dim light of the streetlamp. He wasn't a boy. He was a man, all hardened lines and focused intensity, his eyes hidden in the shadow of his helmet. But she knew that gaze. It was the one that didn’t just see a body for rent; it saw her.
“Get on,” his voice was a low rumble, a command that brooked no argument and asked for no negotiation.
A shiver, the good kind, danced down her spine. She pushed off the wall and walked over, the sway in her hips entirely automatic, a lifetime of practice. She didn’t ask where they were going. She just slid onto the seat behind him, her thick thighs gripping the firm leather of the saddle. Her arms wrapped around his waist, her hands splaying across the rock-hard plane of his stomach. He smelled of gasoline, night air, and pure, unfiltered man.
He didn’t speak again. The bike roared back to life, and they were flying, the city lights blurring into streaks of color. Sabrina closed her eyes, pressing her face against the back of his leather vest, letting the speed and the vibration and the sheer power of him overwhelm her senses. This was it. This was the feeling she was always chasing, the momentary escape from everything.
The ride ended not at some cheap motel but at a modest garage attached to a small house. His place. Interesting. He killed the engine, the silence now intimate, pressing in on them. He dismounted and turned to her, finally pulling off his helmet. His eyes, a fierce, stormy blue, raked over her from head to toe, and a slow, possessive smile touched his lips.
“Inside,” he said, his voice softer now, but no less commanding.
She followed him into the garage, then through a door into a sparsely furnished living room. It was clean, masculine. He turned to face her, and the air crackled.
“This isn’t for an hour,” he stated, his gaze holding hers captive. “This isn’t a transaction.”
Sabrina’s heart hammered against her ribs. “No? What is it, then?”
He closed the distance between them in two strides. His hands, calloused and strong, came up to frame her face, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones. “It’s a claim.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I’m done seeing you out there. I’m done with the idea of any other man touching what’s mine. That tight, dripping pussy that belongs on my cock. That skilled mouth that belongs wrapped around me. That ass I’m going to stretch and make mine. You’re coming off the streets, Sabrina. For good. You’re mine. Now. Tomorrow. For a fucking lifetime. Do you understand me?”
The words should have terrified her. A lifetime of fierce independence, of answering to no one… and yet, a dam broke inside her. A deep, aching yearning she’d suppressed for decades surged to the surface. To belong to someone. To be wanted this fiercely, this completely. A warm, gushing flood of arousal instantly soaked through her panties, the scent of her own desire perfuming the air between them.
“Yes,” she breathed, the word a shaky surrender. “Yes.”
A growl of pure triumph rumbled in his chest. His mouth crashed down on hers, not with tenderness, but with raw, claiming hunger. His tongue plunged inside, tasting her, dominating her. Her hands came up, tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. She could feel the formidable proof of his desire pressed against her stomach, a thick, hard ridge that promised unimaginable pleasure.
He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged. “Show me what’s mine.”
With eager, trembling fingers, she peeled off her jacket, then tugged the tight top over her head. Her full, heavy breasts spilled free. He groaned at the sight, his hands immediately cupping them, his thumbs circling her rock-hard nipples. The sensation was so intense, so direct, that her knees buckled. He held her up easily.
“The rest,” he commanded, his voice thick with lust.
She pushed her skirt down over her curvy hips, letting it pool at her feet, followed by her soaked underwear. She stood before him, naked, bathed in the low light, her body a testament to a long life, thick and luxurious and all his. His eyes devoured her, lingering on the dense, dark thatch of hair between her legs, just as he liked it.
“On your knees.”
She dropped immediately, the cool floor a shock against her skin. Her hands went to his belt, unbuckling it with practiced ease, then undoing his jeans. She tugged them down, and his cock sprang free. God. It was every bit the weapon she remembered—a thick, veined column of flesh, a glorious 11 inches of hard, aching masculinity. The sheer girth of it, a solid 3 and a half inches thick, made her mouth water.
She didn’t hesitate. She leaned forward, her tongue snaking out to lick a long, slow stripe from the base to the throbbing tip. He hissed, his hands fisting in her hair. She opened her mouth wide, taking as much of him as she could, her lips stretching deliciously around his impossible width. She swirled her tongue around the crown, tasting his pre-cum, then sank down deeper, using her hand to work the impressive length she couldn’t quite take. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard, a low moan vibrating around him. She was a artist with her mouth, and she was painting her masterpiece for her master.
“Fuck, yes… that mouth…” he groaned, his hips giving a slight thrust. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you? Can’t get enough.”
She pulled off with a wet pop, gasping for air, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his glistening crown. “I want it all, Sir. I want to taste all of you.”
He pulled her up roughly, his kiss ******* and searing. He walked her backward until the back of her knees hit a sturdy leather couch and she tumbled down onto it. He was on her in an instant, his body a heavy, welcome weight. He kissed his way down her neck, over the swell of her breasts, taking a nipple into his hot mouth and sucking hard until she cried out, her back arching.
His hand slid down her quivering stomach, through her coarse, damp curls, and found her dripping core. Two fingers slid into her with ease. “So fucking tight for me,” he muttered against her breast. “So wet.” He crooked his fingers, finding that perfect spot inside her, and rubbed.
It was all it took. A bolt of pure, electric pleasure shot through her. Her eyes rolled back in her head as a powerful orgasm ripped through her, soaking his hand and her inner thighs instantly. She squirted, a hot, gushing release that left her gasping and trembling beneath him.
He didn’t give her time to recover. He shifted his body, positioning himself between her legs. The broad, spongy head of his cock pressed against her soaked, sensitive entrance. It was a lot. An immense, stretching pressure.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
Her eyes, glazed with pleasure, fluttered open to meet his intense blue stare.
“This pussy is mine. This ass is mine. You are mine. You’re never going back.”
He pushed.
The stretch was incredible, blissful, mind-numbing. She cried out as he filled her, inch by devastating inch, her inner muscles fluttering wildly around the invading girth, trying to accommodate him. He seated himself fully, buried to the hilt, and they both groaned in unison. He was so deep, she felt him in her soul.
He began to move, a slow, deliberate, powerful rhythm that stole the breath from her lungs. Each thrust was a claim, a brand. Her nails dug into his back as waves of pleasure, sharper and more intense than any she’d ever known, began to build again. He shifted angle slightly, and the head of his cock rubbed directly over her G-spot with every deep, penetrating stroke.
“OhgodOhgodOHGOD…” she chanted, her body coiling tighter and tighter.
“That’s it,” he grunted, his pace increasing, his own control fraying. “Come for me again. Squirt all over my cock. Mark me as yours, just like I’m marking you.”
The command, the overwhelming sensation, the sheer fullness… it was too much. She shattered. Her vision whited out as another, even more powerful orgasm exploded through her core, gushing out around where they were joined, a hot flood of her release. Her inner muscles clenched and milked his length rhythmically, dragging him right to the edge with her.
He gave three more *******, deep thrusts, burying himself as deep as he could go, and with a guttural roar, he came. She felt the hot, pulsing jets of his release filling her, and the sensation triggered a third, smaller, blissful aftershock that left her boneless and breathless.
He collapsed on top of her, his weight a comfort, his breath hot against her neck. They lay there for long moments, connected, the only sound their ragged breathing. Slowly, he pulled out, and she whimpered at the loss of fullness. He rolled onto his side, pulling her against him, his hand possessively on her hip.
He nuzzled her hair, his voice a soft rumble. “Tomorrow, we start on that perfect ass of yours. It’s going to take some work to get it ready for me.”
Sabrina shivered, a fresh thrill of anticipation coursing through her spent body. She was ruined for anyone else. He owned her. And she had never felt more complete.
The bike, a hulking chromed beast, came to a stop right in front of her. The engine cut, and the sudden silence was louder than the noise had been. Harley swung a leg off, his presence seeming to swallow the dim light of the streetlamp. He wasn't a boy. He was a man, all hardened lines and focused intensity, his eyes hidden in the shadow of his helmet. But she knew that gaze. It was the one that didn’t just see a body for rent; it saw her.
“Get on,” his voice was a low rumble, a command that brooked no argument and asked for no negotiation.
A shiver, the good kind, danced down her spine. She pushed off the wall and walked over, the sway in her hips entirely automatic, a lifetime of practice. She didn’t ask where they were going. She just slid onto the seat behind him, her thick thighs gripping the firm leather of the saddle. Her arms wrapped around his waist, her hands splaying across the rock-hard plane of his stomach. He smelled of gasoline, night air, and pure, unfiltered man.
He didn’t speak again. The bike roared back to life, and they were flying, the city lights blurring into streaks of color. Sabrina closed her eyes, pressing her face against the back of his leather vest, letting the speed and the vibration and the sheer power of him overwhelm her senses. This was it. This was the feeling she was always chasing, the momentary escape from everything.
The ride ended not at some cheap motel but at a modest garage attached to a small house. His place. Interesting. He killed the engine, the silence now intimate, pressing in on them. He dismounted and turned to her, finally pulling off his helmet. His eyes, a fierce, stormy blue, raked over her from head to toe, and a slow, possessive smile touched his lips.
“Inside,” he said, his voice softer now, but no less commanding.
She followed him into the garage, then through a door into a sparsely furnished living room. It was clean, masculine. He turned to face her, and the air crackled.
“This isn’t for an hour,” he stated, his gaze holding hers captive. “This isn’t a transaction.”
Sabrina’s heart hammered against her ribs. “No? What is it, then?”
He closed the distance between them in two strides. His hands, calloused and strong, came up to frame her face, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones. “It’s a claim.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I’m done seeing you out there. I’m done with the idea of any other man touching what’s mine. That tight, dripping pussy that belongs on my cock. That skilled mouth that belongs wrapped around me. That ass I’m going to stretch and make mine. You’re coming off the streets, Sabrina. For good. You’re mine. Now. Tomorrow. For a fucking lifetime. Do you understand me?”
The words should have terrified her. A lifetime of fierce independence, of answering to no one… and yet, a dam broke inside her. A deep, aching yearning she’d suppressed for decades surged to the surface. To belong to someone. To be wanted this fiercely, this completely. A warm, gushing flood of arousal instantly soaked through her panties, the scent of her own desire perfuming the air between them.
“Yes,” she breathed, the word a shaky surrender. “Yes.”
A growl of pure triumph rumbled in his chest. His mouth crashed down on hers, not with tenderness, but with raw, claiming hunger. His tongue plunged inside, tasting her, dominating her. Her hands came up, tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. She could feel the formidable proof of his desire pressed against her stomach, a thick, hard ridge that promised unimaginable pleasure.
He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged. “Show me what’s mine.”
With eager, trembling fingers, she peeled off her jacket, then tugged the tight top over her head. Her full, heavy breasts spilled free. He groaned at the sight, his hands immediately cupping them, his thumbs circling her rock-hard nipples. The sensation was so intense, so direct, that her knees buckled. He held her up easily.
“The rest,” he commanded, his voice thick with lust.
She pushed her skirt down over her curvy hips, letting it pool at her feet, followed by her soaked underwear. She stood before him, naked, bathed in the low light, her body a testament to a long life, thick and luxurious and all his. His eyes devoured her, lingering on the dense, dark thatch of hair between her legs, just as he liked it.
“On your knees.”
She dropped immediately, the cool floor a shock against her skin. Her hands went to his belt, unbuckling it with practiced ease, then undoing his jeans. She tugged them down, and his cock sprang free. God. It was every bit the weapon she remembered—a thick, veined column of flesh, a glorious 11 inches of hard, aching masculinity. The sheer girth of it, a solid 3 and a half inches thick, made her mouth water.
She didn’t hesitate. She leaned forward, her tongue snaking out to lick a long, slow stripe from the base to the throbbing tip. He hissed, his hands fisting in her hair. She opened her mouth wide, taking as much of him as she could, her lips stretching deliciously around his impossible width. She swirled her tongue around the crown, tasting his pre-cum, then sank down deeper, using her hand to work the impressive length she couldn’t quite take. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard, a low moan vibrating around him. She was a artist with her mouth, and she was painting her masterpiece for her master.
“Fuck, yes… that mouth…” he groaned, his hips giving a slight thrust. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you? Can’t get enough.”
She pulled off with a wet pop, gasping for air, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his glistening crown. “I want it all, Sir. I want to taste all of you.”
He pulled her up roughly, his kiss ******* and searing. He walked her backward until the back of her knees hit a sturdy leather couch and she tumbled down onto it. He was on her in an instant, his body a heavy, welcome weight. He kissed his way down her neck, over the swell of her breasts, taking a nipple into his hot mouth and sucking hard until she cried out, her back arching.
His hand slid down her quivering stomach, through her coarse, damp curls, and found her dripping core. Two fingers slid into her with ease. “So fucking tight for me,” he muttered against her breast. “So wet.” He crooked his fingers, finding that perfect spot inside her, and rubbed.
It was all it took. A bolt of pure, electric pleasure shot through her. Her eyes rolled back in her head as a powerful orgasm ripped through her, soaking his hand and her inner thighs instantly. She squirted, a hot, gushing release that left her gasping and trembling beneath him.
He didn’t give her time to recover. He shifted his body, positioning himself between her legs. The broad, spongy head of his cock pressed against her soaked, sensitive entrance. It was a lot. An immense, stretching pressure.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
Her eyes, glazed with pleasure, fluttered open to meet his intense blue stare.
“This pussy is mine. This ass is mine. You are mine. You’re never going back.”
He pushed.
The stretch was incredible, blissful, mind-numbing. She cried out as he filled her, inch by devastating inch, her inner muscles fluttering wildly around the invading girth, trying to accommodate him. He seated himself fully, buried to the hilt, and they both groaned in unison. He was so deep, she felt him in her soul.
He began to move, a slow, deliberate, powerful rhythm that stole the breath from her lungs. Each thrust was a claim, a brand. Her nails dug into his back as waves of pleasure, sharper and more intense than any she’d ever known, began to build again. He shifted angle slightly, and the head of his cock rubbed directly over her G-spot with every deep, penetrating stroke.
“OhgodOhgodOHGOD…” she chanted, her body coiling tighter and tighter.
“That’s it,” he grunted, his pace increasing, his own control fraying. “Come for me again. Squirt all over my cock. Mark me as yours, just like I’m marking you.”
The command, the overwhelming sensation, the sheer fullness… it was too much. She shattered. Her vision whited out as another, even more powerful orgasm exploded through her core, gushing out around where they were joined, a hot flood of her release. Her inner muscles clenched and milked his length rhythmically, dragging him right to the edge with her.
He gave three more *******, deep thrusts, burying himself as deep as he could go, and with a guttural roar, he came. She felt the hot, pulsing jets of his release filling her, and the sensation triggered a third, smaller, blissful aftershock that left her boneless and breathless.
He collapsed on top of her, his weight a comfort, his breath hot against her neck. They lay there for long moments, connected, the only sound their ragged breathing. Slowly, he pulled out, and she whimpered at the loss of fullness. He rolled onto his side, pulling her against him, his hand possessively on her hip.
He nuzzled her hair, his voice a soft rumble. “Tomorrow, we start on that perfect ass of yours. It’s going to take some work to get it ready for me.”
Sabrina shivered, a fresh thrill of anticipation coursing through her spent body. She was ruined for anyone else. He owned her. And she had never felt more complete.
