Hope and Desire Read online

  Contents

  About This Story

  One: D

  Two: Rose

  Three: D

  Also by Alicia

  About the Author

  About This Story

  This short story is intended as a prequel, chronicling the events leading up to Petals and Chrome: the first official book in Alicia Pierce’s brand new erotic romance series, Flowers of Hell MC .

  You can buy Petals and Chrome from the Smashwords store (and from all other good ebook retailers) now!

  One ~ D

  Sam’s roadhouse was crowded, as usual for a Friday night. I elbowed my way through the churning dance floor, weaving in and out of guys and girls, all out to drink and dance away the memories of a shitty working week. As I made my way towards the bar, I felt a hand on the small of my back, eagerly trying to snake its way into the waistband of my pants. I turned in its direction. What a surprise. It was Donna — a girl I’d known since she was just a kid, when I’d learnt to fix motorbikes with her old man. Well, now she was all grown up. She’d had a crush on me ever since I could remember, and I’d always managed to wrestle back my urges, out of some kind of loyalty to her old man, Pete. Not that he’d come after me now. He’d drank himself to death the middle of last year.

  “Hi baby,” she purred, trying to work her hand down towards my groin.

  “Hi Donna,” I said, grabbed her wrist and wrenching her eager fingers back out of my pants, just before she discovered that she had, in fact, turned me on a little.

  “Maybe next year,” I joked, turning and quickly moving on through the crush of dancers.

  “I’ll be long gone from this fucking hole by then!” I heard her call behind me.

  I took my usual place at the far end of the bar, and Sam nodded when he saw me, straightaway walking the length of the bar, ignoring a number of other angry patrons in order to take my order.

  “Usual?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Make that a shot of Wild Turkey, too,” I added.

  As Sam popped the top off a condensation-flecked bottle, then poured out my whiskey into a grubby little shot glass, I closed my eyes for the briefest moment, rubbing my fingertips against my pounding temples.

  “These are on me, D,” Sam said, gently, when he saw me drawing a fistful of bills from the pocket of my oil-stained Levi’s.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “I heard about Roxanne,” he said, meeting my eye for a half second. “I’m sorry, man.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I shrugged. “Probably for the best. That bitch was nothing but a world of trouble, anyway.”

  I picked up the shot and slammed it back, savoring the sharpness of it, scalding my throat as it went down, wondering if I even believed what I’d just said to Sam. Roxanne. She was gone, again, and I wondered if perhaps it was for good this time. I tried to push all thought of her — and the ruins she’d left our club in — from my spinning, throbbing mind.

  As I turned and made my way over towards the far corner of the room, where a few of my guys were sitting, I heard someone calling my name.

  “Hey, D!” the rasping, grizzled voice taunted. “How’s business these days?”

  I knew who it was, even before I turned around: Hank, that filthy, double-crossing motherfucker. The trucker with ideas above his station, who’d been muscling in on our territory, using his fleet of lorries to run the drugs that, until recently, had been our bread and butter.

  He leered up at me from his seat, his stained yellow teeth glinting in his mouth, his piggy little eyes round and bloodshot, his beer gut straining out from beneath his dirty plaid shirt.

  “Made much money lately, D?” he continued with an evil grin, his cronies all chuckling to themselves, their mouths wet with cheap beer.

  “Fuck you, Hank,” I said, coldly, meeting his gaze and holding it.

  I wasn’t scared of him, even if he was in Carlo’s pocket.

  I fought back the urge to smash my beer bottle right there and then over his ugly fucking head, and instead swallowed back my anger, turned, and made my way towards the small group of my men that remained, just eleven of us including me; now all that was left of our motorcycle club, The Flowers of Hell.

  “Fellas,” I said, nodding at the small semi circle then taking my seat at the table.

  There was an uneasy silence.

  “How you holding up?” Spider asked me, clearly referring to Roxanne.

  “Forget that bitch,” I said, but the anger was clear in my voice. I was fooling no one.

  “I’m sorry, man,” Zed said, touching my shoulder with his meaty hand, an uncharacteristic tenderness in his voice.

  I looked around the table, eyeing each of the men in turn.

  When Roxanne left, it was as if she’d taken our last scrap of self-respect with her. She’d been like a mascot for us, not only riding behind me, her dyed red hair flashing and flickering in the wind like the flame of a candle, but it was like she was riding behind all of us. She was our queen, our rose. And now she was gone. Everything was falling apart; our whole world was turning to shit, and we knew it.

  I wondered how long it would be before the whole sorry thing came to an end, one way or another.

  “Listen men,” I said, keeping my voice as calm and steady as I could, trying not to betray my churning emotions, “Things are gonna change for us, I can feel it. Now I’m not stupid. I know some of you have been getting … offers. I’m sure I can’t be the only one who’s been asked to join another club? But we need to stay together, okay? Now more than ever. Things might be down for us right now, but they’ll soon pick up. I promise you, each and every one of you. You just have to trust me …”

  The men nodded, murmuring their agreement and knocking back their beers. A small scrap of hope once again ignited in their hearts.

  I knew that they believed me.

  I just wished I did too …

  Two ~ Rose

  As I waited for James to arrive home, I paced up and down the little living room. He was working a late shift, again; we’d both been taking any overtime we could, in order to save up as much spending money for our upcoming holiday as possible. Thinking again about the fact that this time next week I would be in America — about as far away as you could get from dreary, boring England — I felt another sharp twinge of excitement. I only hoped the holiday lived up to my insanely high expectations …

  Just then, I heard James’s key in the front door, and I gave myself a final look over in the mirror, before skipping to the stereo, hitting play on the CD deck, and then dashing back across the room to take my place next to the little two-seater table that I’d set up, complete with a cute red and white checkered tablecloth and a lit candle, which flickered in the breeze as James walked in through the door.

  “Oh, Rose!” he said when he saw the scene, obviously taken completely by surprise. “What’s all this in aid of?”

  “No reason,” I said, pushing from my mind the real reason behind my actions: that I’d been feeling so fucking guilty over the dawning realization that maybe I wasn’t actually in love with James anymore. The last few months, it had felt like we were floundering, and before I was ready to fully admit that, to him or even to myself, I knew I needed to at least give our relationship one last chance. Hence this evening.

  “So?” I said, as sultrily and sexily as I could. “What do you think?”

  I gave him a slow twirl, the semi-transparent baby-doll neglige fluttering around me, my bare buttocks peeking out from beneath it, leaving little to the imagination.

  “It’s … great,” James croaked, the lust now thick in his voice. “Really great …”

  “Take a seat,” I cooed, nodding to one of the chairs set out in front of the little
table.

  James did as he was told, the bulge obvious beneath the shiny grey trousers of his cheap suit as he made his way towards the chair and sat down, his movements a little impaired by his swelling groin.

  I picked up the bottle of wine and poured a generous measure into his glass, enjoying camping it up in my role of 50’s housewife. He lifted the glass to his mouth and gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing in his thin throat, unable to take his eyes off my body.

  I walked around behind him, running my hands sensuously down his chest, then tugging at his tie, loosening it and popping open the top button of his shirt collar. He shifted in his seat, pulling his chair out from the table and turning around in it, so that he was facing me.

  And then, very slowly, I began to dance.

  I closed my eyes as I moved in time to the sultry, sexy beat that was pulsing from the stereo, feeling James’s burning gaze on me as I danced for him. I knew this was what he wanted; he’d been on at me for ages to give him a lap dance, and in my current guilty mood, I knew it was just the thing to do to try and reignite that gone-out spark in our relationship …

  I ran my hands up my bare thighs, tugging the hem of the wispy little dress up above my waist for a moment, giving him a flash of the tiny pink thong I was wearing beneath it. Then I turned, thrusting my bum out towards him, arching my back, bringing myself down so that I felt the hard, swollen lump of his cock brush, gently, between my arse cheeks. I began softly grinding my bum against him like this, working him up into a frenzy, his hands moving eagerly to touch my small pert breasts, my nipples now rock-hard and poking out in prominent little points from beneath the flimsy material of my dress. But I slapped his hot fingers away.

  “No touching,” I said, sternly, my back still to him, my bum working back and forth across his swollen groin.

  Then I slipped my hand down between my legs, tugging at the zip of his trousers. He helped me out, quickly fumbling his suit trousers open, his dick springing free. I felt its hot, sticky firmness brushing against my inner thigh and I arched my back grinding my arse and yearning pussy eagerly against it.

  I could hear his breathing, trembling and shivering in his throat, as he sat, rigid on the chair, letting me work him up into a frenzy.

  Finally, I tugged the gusset of the thong to one side, grabbed the head of his hot, swollen dick, and gently guided him inside me, feeling my tight pussy stretching to accommodate him.

  As I began to ride him, my own hands now moving to my breasts, I closed my eyes, letting my most secret, dirty thoughts run free; the thoughts that I usually only ever let myself think alone:

  I imagined that I was riding someone else, someone very different to James.

  I imagined that the hands that were kneading my breasts weren’t my own, but instead the hot rough hands of a hunky stranger; a man much bigger and badder than James.

  I imagined someone cold and calm and in-control, who’d use me however he wanted, who would take the lead, who would pin me fiercely in place while he plundered his own, rough pleasure from my trembling body.

  And as I began to grind myself harder and faster against James’s cock, I thought only of my pleasure, focussing on the orgasm that was building steadily inside me as I imagined myself being taken by this hot, rough, dark-haired bad boy: whoever and wherever he was.

  James grunted, his hips bucking as his cock began to twitch and squirt, just before I’d managed to grind out my own private orgasm.

  I waited till he’d finished cumming, then gently slipped myself off him, my pleasure too slipping away before I’d quite reached it.

  “Back in a sec,” I whispered, cheerily as I could, before quickly heading out of the room and down the corridor towards the small cluttered bathroom. Once inside, I locked the door, then sat down on the toilet, hanging my head in my hands, my mind still spinning with the thoughts of my imaginary hunky stranger — causing a fresh pang of guilt that it was him I was thinking of once again, instead of James.

  What a fucking mess!

  It was useless.

  I’d tried everything I could with James, and still I just felt so fucking unhappy.

  My thoughts one more turned to the future.

  At least this time next week we would be in a America, on our road trip.

  I just hoped it would bring a much needed spark back into our relationship …

  Three ~ D

  “One of us should just go over there, right now, and punch Hank’s fucking teeth down his throat,” Spider grumbled, a few hours later. “Who gives a fuck if he’s working for Carlo now. I’m not scared of that Mexican piece of shit.”

  “Cool it,” I urged him. “Now’s not the time. If we’re gonna do something, it can’t be like this. It’s gotta be planned out. Don’t you worry, I’m working on something. Something big … Just hold tight for now.”

  I wondered if they believed my lie.

  “But look at him,” chipped in Zed, “thinks he owns the joint. Fucking asshole. He doesn’t realize Carlo would slit his throat the second he stopped being any use to him …”

  “I know, I know,” I said, my temples still throbbing despite the countless whiskeys and beers I’d thrown down my neck. There was still an urge in me; a deep, violent, animal desire that neither alcohol or fighting was gonna satisfy.

  I got to my feet, feeling that tight coil of desire deep in the pit of my stomach, my actions now almost out of my own control.

  I headed straight for the dance floor, slipping between the sweaty, dancing bodies, looking all around me until I saw her: Donna, her lithe young body moving so sensuously in time to the music, her eyes closed, her small breasts firm and pert beneath that flimsy purple vest top, her dark hair tied up in a high pony tail and a simple pair of denim cut-offs showing off her toned, tanned legs.

  I’m sorry, Pete, I said, saying a final word to the ghost of her passed on father, before making my approach.

  I got right up close before she opened her eyes, gasping a little when she saw me, her mouth quickly breaking out into a sultry smile.

  “Well hello there,” she laughed, lunging towards me, her lips seeking mine. It was always the same with Donna; it was as if there was a switch that flipped inside her, as soon as she got a taste of alcohol, causing her to just throw herself at me. Up until now, I’d managed to hold myself back. But tonight there was something violent burning inside me; something that needed taking care of.

  She lunged towards me but I placed my hand firmly on her neck, holding her in place, her mouth open and gasping, just inches from mine.

  “Not here,” I told her. “Come with me.”

  I turned and led the way out of the roadhouse, through the back fire door and into that grubby dirty alleyway that no one ever went down, unless they needed a quiet place to shoot up or fuck.

  Donna was right behind me, her breath shivering and turning to steam in the cold night air, her nipples standing out in hard points from beneath her tight little top.

  Before I could even open my mouth to say anything, she’d got to work, dropping to her knees and tugging madly at the buckle to my belt. I didn’t help her out, just leant back against the rough stone wall of the alleyway, parting my legs a little, looking down at her, enjoying the sight of her scrambling and fumbling with my belt buckle and zipper, finally tugging my half-hard cock free from my shorts and taking it eagerly in her mouth.

  I felt myself grow, my balls tightening, the blood swelling into my manhood as Donna worked it in her mouth with an animal urgency that almost seemed to rival mine, her full young lips gliding back and forth over my swelling cock head. She gasped, pulling my now rock-hard dick from her mouth with a wet, sloppy pop and then slapping it a few times onto her outstretched tongue.

  “I’ve wanted this for so long,” she murmured.

  I stayed silent, just watching her with a steely gaze.

  As she sucked me once more, I reached down, tugging one of her small breasts roughly free from her vest top, pinching the hot,
hard teat of her right nipple between my thumb and forefinger, rolling it lazily between my fingertips as she went to work on my dick, noisily slurping its thick length.

  “Get up,” I said after a while. “Face the wall.”

  She did as she was told, standing and turning away from me, placing her palms flat against the opposite wall of the alleyway, offering her pert round ass to me. I stood behind her, grabbing her shorts and tugging them down hard without even undoing them. I heard something tear, as her shorts and panties came away in one go and she whimpered a little but remained still, her breathing now coming in shallow, expectant gasps.

  I parted her legs with my hands, touching my fingers to her shaved pussy lips and finding them slick and hot and wet with her juices. Then I fed myself gently inside her from behind, causing her to shudder and gasp as my thick tool slowly filled her up.

  After a couple of soft, slow strokes, I got to work, increasing my urgency, gripping her by the hips and slamming it into her, now thinking only of my own pleasure.

  It wasn’t long before I felt the orgasm I’d been craving build inside me.

  Just before it hit, I grabbed her neck, forcing her head down hard between her shoulder blades, burying my cock right to the hilt in her tight little pussy, feeling my orgasm send waves of electricity around my tensed up body, a low grunt escaping my lips as I spurted my seed deep into her cunt.

  Then I slipped out and quickly tugged my pants closed and buckled my belt once more.

  Donna was still standing in place, her hands against the wall, her bare white ass now flushed pink, and soft trembling whimpers coming from her mouth when I left her.

  Without looking back or saying another word, I left the alleyway, walking around to the front parking lot, where my bike was standing, it’s polished chrome gleaming and glinting in the black night. I got on and turned the key in the ignition, feeling the beast burst into life between my thighs, growling and snarling.