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Hog Wild Ch. 01

By: oohsexypenguin



Aw, fuck.

That was the first thought that came to mind as Holly Sullivan turned off the alarm and glanced at the clock. It was 7:45 a.m., and she was running late for her first day of work at her new job.

Throwing back the covers and hurriedly wiping sleep from her eyes, Holly jumped out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom.

The snooze button has got to be the most evil invention, she groused to herself as she splashed water on her face. Deciding there wasn't any time for a shower, she threw her russet hair into a ponytail and swiped on some mascara. Holly frowned at her reflection, wishing for the millionth time that she wasn't so pale and that her nose didn't have a smattering of freckles. But being of Irish descent, neither was avoidable.

In truth Holly was a fairly attractive girl. She was average height and had curves in the right places, with auburn hair that tumbled in soft waves to her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep green, and the freckles gave her face charm. 

There were, however, dark circles under her eyes, making her look older than her twenty-two years. A rough life had taken its toll on Holly -- her parents were killed in a car accident when she was only sixteen, leaving her to fend largely for herself as she bounced around from relative to relative. And having had a hard time paying the bills as she struggled through school, she was desperate to make a change and finally get her life together.

Rushing back into the bedroom, Holly searched frantically for a clean pair of pants to wear. It was one of her faults that she hated to do laundry; now she was paying for it. Settling on a mostly clean pair of black dress pants, she then pulled a pale blue button-down tank top on over her cream colored bra, careful to button it up to the collar to appear as modest and work appropriate as possible. 

Not that it matters, she thought as she slipped on a pair of black flats. My first impression is already ruined since I'm late.

Swiping a banana from the fruit bowl on the kitchen table, Holly grabbed her keys, purse and leather jacket and flew out the door. It was a miracle that she didn't take a fatal fall down the stairs of her apartment building as she made a mad dash for the parking garage.

Spying her beloved Harley in the far corner, Holly quickened her pace. The motorcycle had been her father's, and she treasured it more than any other possession she owned. It was a red, black and chrome Fat Boy Softail, and some of her earliest memories were of riding through the neighborhood streets, clutching onto her father for dear life.

Whipping her helmet out of the storage compartment at the rear of the bike, Holly straddled the seat and started the engine. Holy Mother Mary, she prayed silently. Please don't let me be fired.

*

"Where the hell is the new assistant?"

Alexander Grant was pacing. This was never a good sign.

His cat, Murray, merely stared at him with heavy-lidded eyes, uncaring that his owner was working himself into a fit. Alex stared back. "Yeah, yeah," he spat, waving his hand dismissively at the feline. "What do you care, you fat bastard?"

Alex was not used to waiting. As a prominent novelist, he had gained quite a reputation, as well as a following. He was someone who mattered; as a result, no one kept him waiting.

Until now.

He had gone through six assistants, one for each of his books. None of them seemed to want to stick around -- Alex had quite the temper, and as charming and charismatic as he was when he was happy, he was just as much of a tyrant to work for when he was in one of his moods.

"This is ridiculous," Alex muttered as he checked his datebook again. Seeing that the new assistant was in fact scheduled to start today, he picked up the phone and called his agent.

"Devon!" he barked into the phone as soon as he heard someone answer.

"Cool it, Alex," Devon said, trying to calm down his easily agitated client. "What's the problem? Writer's block?"

"Har har," Alex replied sarcastically. "No, the problem is that the assistant you hired is already putting me behind schedule!"

"Oh, is that all?" Devon asked. "You woke me up to tell me that?"

Alex scowled. "You know, I should fire you. If not for your lack of caring, then for your apparent incompetence at hiring a decent assistant."

Devon chuckled, grating on Alex's nerves even more. "Don't worry, Grant. She's worth the wait. I hired her because she actually knows a thing or two about writing." There was a pause, then he added, "Also, she's kinda hot."

Alex smirked. "Right," he said. "Didn't anyone ever tell you it's not a good idea to do all your thinking with your other head?"

At that moment there was a knock on the door. 

"Finally," Alex growled as he slammed the phone back onto the receiver. Stomping over to the door, he yanked it open and was momentarily taken aback by what he saw.

A tall, shapely, helmeted figure was standing there.

"You're late," Alex finally managed to snap, moving aside to allow entrance. "And for God's sake, take off the helmet, would you?"

"I'm so sorry," the figure said, her words muffled by the helmet as she reached up to pull it off. "I overslept this morning, and..."

Her words faded into the background as Alex finally got a glimpse at what was underneath that helmet. The girl was stunning -- her dark red hair was askew around her face, with wisps coming out of her messy ponytail. Her cheeks were flushed, as if she had been running, and her lips were full and very pink. Her eyes, though... they were what stood out the most. They were piercingly green, and staring at him worriedly.

"Sir? Are you listening?"

Alex shook his head, remembering his previous ire. "Yes, right," he said. "Overslept, you say? I'm sorry, Miss..."

"Holly," she answered. "Holly Sullivan."

"Miss Sullivan," Alex said, his eyes narrowing as he looked at his watch. "You are over thirty minutes late. Very unprofessional."

Holly at least had the decency to look ashamed. She looks cute when she's contrite, Alex thought. It's annoying.

"I'm so sorry, sir," Holly said. "I promise, it won't happen again."

Alex frowned. "Take care that it doesn't," he said. "And don't call me 'sir.' It makes me feel old."

"Sorry, sir," Holly said, then immediately blushed when she realized she'd done it again. "I mean, sorry, Mr. Grant."

Irritated that he found her blush to be enchanting, Alex's frown turned into a full on glower. "You can call me Alex," he muttered, turning on his heel and striding towards his work area at the back of the loft. 

"Then please, call me Holly," she said as she followed him. 

Alex took a seat behind his desk, which stood dominantly in the middle of the floor, where sunshine coming in through the large window poured over and illuminated it. Holly bit back a smirk at the thought that this halo of light made the desk look almost holy.

"Holly," Alex said, shuffling around papers before clasping his hands firmly in front of him. "Do you realize that your tardiness has put me behind schedule, which is disastrous when I have a publishing deadline to meet?"

Holly was absorbed in looking at her surroundings. The loft was modern and clean, with shiny wooden floors, simple furniture and expansive white walls. On those walls were articles, presumably reviews of Alex's works. From what Holly had read, they were amazing. She noticed the rather bulbous gray cat resting on the window ledge, and she smiled in its direction before she realized Alex was tapping his foot. Impatiently.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't listening," Holly apologized, turning to see the ominous look on Alex's face. "I was admiring your home, it's gorgeous."

And so are you, she thought, finally taking in her new employer. Alexander Grant was a tall man, and in his loose fitting black t-shirt and slightly baggy khakis you could still see that he was someone who paid attention to his fitness. His shoulders were broad and his chest was wide, and his tan made him look like some sort of god. His face was angular and masculine, and all the features fit together perfectly. Eyes the color of amber bored into her, and although he was clearly not happy with her she couldn't help but be drawn into them. Soot black hair hung to the nape of his neck and fell into his eyes, and Holly resisted the urge to run her hand through it. Though the biography she'd read stated his age to be thirty-six, he didn't look a day over thirty.

So that's what the brooding writer looks like, Holly thought amusedly.

"Are you always this airheaded, or have I happened to meet you on a particularly bad day?"

Holly jerked out of her reverie, her Irish temper quickly rising to the surface. "Are you always this rude, or are you having a bad day yourself?" she retorted, all feelings of attraction dissipating instantly.

Alex's eyebrows raised, surprised that she was willing to talk back to him in such a manner. "You have some nerve calling me rude," he said, crossing his arms and cocking his head at her. "You're the one who strolled in here a half hour late, and on your first day, no less."

Holly was standing in front of him in an instant, drawing herself up to her full five feet, six inches and also crossing her arms in front of her. "If you'll excuse me," she said slowly, her voice tinged with ire, "I believe I tried to explain to you from the very beginning why I was late, and I've apologized more than enough for it."

"Well, obviously you don't take this job very seriously," Alex replied, having mixed feelings about the current spat. He hadn't foreseen the girl standing up to him; he'd merely been trying to establish himself as the authority. 

It had backfired. Horribly.

Holly was incensed. "Let me tell you something, hot shot," she hissed, coming closer and bending so she was practically in his face. "I happen to care a hell of a lot about this job," she said, poking her finger into Alex's chest and enjoying the uncomfortable look that came across his face. "I know for a Goddamn fact that I'm the best assistant you're going to find, because I know my shit, and I have a degree in English to prove it." 

It was Alex's turn to tune out what was being said as he watched woman's fury display itself so attractively right in front of him. Holly's cheeks and the tip of her nose had flushed to a pale shade of pink. He had somehow missed the freckles sprinkled across her nose, and up close he found them appealing. Her emerald eyes were shooting sparks. She was breathing heavily and gesticulating wildly, and her hair, every bit as fiery as she was, framed her face so becomingly.

I guess the old cliché is true, he thought. A woman is beautiful when she's angry.

"Furthermore," Holly continued, oblivious to the fact that Alex was no longer paying attention to what she was saying, "I may need this job, but I don't need your elitist attitude, and I sure as hell don't need you looking down your nose at me and assuming things about me when you haven't even bothered to get to know me!" She jabbed her finger into his chest one last time for emphasis, then abruptly turned away and headed for the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Alex managed to say when he found the ability to form a coherent thought again. It had been a damn long time since he'd last been this entertained by someone; he wasn't about to let that someone walk out on him.

"I'm leaving," Holly spat over her shoulder, grabbing her things off the table near the doorway. "Find yourself another assistant."

Alex bolted from his chair, reaching over her to slam the door shut just as she opened it. 

"What are you doing?" Holly asked angrily, turning her head to stare up at him. She didn't like being this close to him. Her body reacted to his nearness in a way that very much contradicted what her mind thought of him.

"Don't go."

He said it softly, almost so softly that she didn't hear him.

"I beg your pardon?" Holly asked, feeling confused. "Why shouldn't I go? You're being an ass."

Alex smirked at that. She's a regular little spitfire, he thought. "I'm aware of that, my dear," he replied. He made no move to back away from her; he found he rather liked being in this position. 

She continued to stare up at him. He had her trapped between his much larger body and the door. She could feel his warm breath rustling her bangs, and she licked her lips unconsciously.

Alex suppressed a moan, watching her tongue slip between those plump lips. Why the hell am I so attracted to her? he wondered vaguely. She's a pain. 

Ignoring those thoughts, he said, "Maybe I can persuade you to stay." 

Then he dipped his head to kiss her.

Their lips met before Holly could counter. He was surprisingly gentle, considering his earlier behavior. His mouth moved over hers tenderly, his tongue gliding lightly over her lips as if asking for permission to enter. She granted it, and he immediately deepened the kiss and brought his arms around her waist.

Alex was lost. Her mouth was so hot and inviting, and she was sweeter than any other woman he'd had the pleasure of tasting. And hell, the minx can kiss, he thought foggily as Holly wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth wider to allow for greater access. She was so pliant beneath him, and Jack found himself wondering how else she would behave beneath him.

Suddenly Holly sprang away, as if burned. She brought her hand to her lips and momentarily looked disoriented. Then her eyes cleared and she glared at Alex.

"How dare you!" she raged, yanking on her jacket and slinging her purse over her shoulder.

"How dare I what?" Alex asked incredulously, puzzled by the backlash. "How dare I kiss you? You know full well you enjoyed that just as much as I did, if not more."

"You arrogant prick," she snapped. "You must really think lowly of me to believe I'd stick around for you to use as some sort of... sex toy!"

Alex, for once in his life, had nothing to say in response. And so he stood there, dumbfounded, and watched Holly Sullivan slam the door behind her.

*

The nerve of that fucker! Holly thought furiously as she waited for the elevator. And he didn't even have the manners to apologize.

In truth, she'd been deeply affected by that kiss. And not in entirely negative ways.

Thinking of it now, she was ashamed by her wanton reaction to his advances. The man was potent, and if she had continued to let him kiss her she wasn't entirely sure she could have been held responsible for her actions. "Stop it," she berated herself, relieved when the elevator finally dinged its arrival. "He's an asshole, anyway."

But as she stepped into the elevator and pushed the ground floor button, she couldn't help but be disappointed, just a little, that Alex hadn't come after her.

*

Alex raked his hand through his hair, silently cursing the minute he'd laid eyes on Holly. Walking back over to his desk, he looked over at Murray and said, "What do I want with her anyway? She's a load more trouble than she's worth."

Yet as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew they weren't true. He hadn't responded so strongly to anyone since... well, he didn't want to think about her right now. 

His thoughts refocused on Holly. She was demure one moment, breathing fire the next.

It was intriguing. And Alex was never a man to discount intrigue.

"Damnit all to hell," he muttered as he snatched his car keys off his bedroom dresser and marched out the door.

*

This is great, Alex thought irately. She had a good five minutes head start. He stepped out of the elevator in the basement parking garage, and spotting his dark blue BMW he made a run for it. 

"She had a motorcycle helmet," he murmured to himself absently. Figures, he thought, chuckling. Well, at least a vixen on a crotch rocket wouldn't (or shouldn't, he hoped) be too hard to find. 

Gunning the engine, Alex peeled out of his parking space and floored it as he headed for the uphill driveway that would bring him to street level. She can't have gone far, he thought distractedly as he made an attempt to turn into traffic without looking. 

The motorcycle came out of nowhere, and he heard the unmistakable sounds of metal crunching and glass breaking as a somewhat familiar figure bounced off of the hood of his car.

Aw, fuck.

Hog Wild Ch. 01



The author, during a writing symposium at Rutgers University, meets a 45 year old New Jersey mother of three daughters in a local bar. Over a period of three nights she tells him the story of the time she went to visit her sister in Texas, when she was 27. While there her sister suggests a road trip where they cruise some bars to see if they will get lucky. In a small town they run into a motorcycle gang that takes them for a joyride then kidnaps them. For four days Joan and her sister Katie understand what the expression "Hog Wild" means.



It began innocently enough, an early dinner with one of my colleagues. After I asked Frank if he would like to stop at Rocky's, a local bar where I stopped earlier in the week. Reluctantly he agreed but left after one drink. I talked with the bartender for awhile, hoping some women might come in. Away from home for a long enough period to make my hormones home I was in need of some sensual R&R. Business was slow and it looked like another disappointment in a strange town until the door opened and an attractive brunette walked. 

I remember looking at my watch; it was 9:35. She was dressed in mid-length tan shorts and wore a sleeveless dark blue top. At about 5'6," the woman had a great figure and gorgeous legs that were complimented by her thin strap sandals. As she walked toward me her breasts, which filled her blue top agreeably, bounced a beguiling jiggle; I would say they were 36Cs. As she neared I could see hazel kind that were absolutely clear. But she had a sour look on her face, like she was pissed off. Two stools away from me, she sat down.

The bartender knew her. "Trouble at home?" She nodded. "What can I get for you Joan?"

"Scotch and water," she said. "Make it a double."

I couldn't pass up what I considered to be a prime opportunity. "You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders," I said to her.

She looked at me with disdain. Turning her head to the mirror she took a sip from her glass and mouthed the words, "You son-of-a-bitch." 

I thought she was talking to me. "I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to upset you." She didn't respond. 

Feeling the need to justify my presence I continued, "I'm attending a writer's conference at the university. She sipped again, still fixing with her angry eyes. Having struck out completely I ordered another drink, figuring I would make it my last. Rocky brought my drink. When he put it on the bar he rolled his eyes toward the woman. Out of the corner of his mouth he said in a whisper, "This time she's really pissed."

"At me?" I whispered back. 

"Nope, at her husband, they get into it a lot. She comes here to get away from him. If I were you pal, I'd hang in there. It could work for you." He went back to chore of organizing the bottles and restocking the bar.

I was thinking about what the woman and her husband might have been arguing about, apparently more deeply than I realized. I almost jumped when I heard, "What kind of stuff do you write?" 

"Pardon me?"

"What do you write...stories?" Her demeanor had softened a bit...must have been the scotch. She was on her second one.

"I write poetry, short stories; I'm currently working on a novel." 

She looked around as if she didn't want the bartender to hear as she said, "I've got one for you."

"A story?"

She nodded, "...a true story that would knock the socks off your readers. Do you want to hear it?" 

She slid off the bar stool, picked up her drink and headed toward a booth at the back of the room. I followed. "I was twenty-seven at the time," she began, "...had been married seven years. I had three daughters, Judy was six, Jacki five; Kristina was three and a half."

"You had your kids in one quick string, didn't you?"

"Yeah, that was one of the problems, plus the fact that my husband was being an asshole. Anyway, my mother suggested that I get away...go down to Texas for a couple of weeks and visit my sister Katie. She was twenty-five and still single...had a couple weeks vacation coming up. Mom offered to take the kids for a couple of weeks. I jumped at the opportunity."

"Katie lived near San Antonio," she continued. I got there on a Monday night. She took me to see some of the sites. We visited San Antone, went to the Alamo, did all the tourist stuff and went to a couple of bars but were turned off by the prospects—nothing but wimps. She lived in a one bedroom apartment; we shared the bed—we had always slept together as kids. It wasn't the same though. We needed to find separate beds, somewhere."

"I got married young," she said, "had three kids real quick. My marriage got terribly stale; we'd been married for seven years. Katie and I have always talked, at least a couple times a week. Katie told me about the guys she had been dating, two of whom she had been fucking. I was jealous as hell of her freedom. She was doing exciting things. I was raising kids. I told her how much I wished I had what she had."

Giggling, Katie said, "You just need to find some horny stud that will fuck your brains out."

"I laughed, I thought she was joking. She laughed. We both laughed almost 'til we cried. I cried and she hugged me until I had no more tears. She was pretty serious with a guy in town, a guy whom she said she wasn't fucking. He was a pretty religious guy whom she ended up marrying. He wanted to hang around with us but Katie told him that she and I were going to spend all of our time together...that he would have to find something else to do while I was there. She even told him we might take a little road trip. He was cool with that. He was so clueless."

"Here's what we're gonna do Sis," Katie said. "We'll pack a few things and hit the road tomorrow. There are a lot of little towns in Texas. We'll drive for a few hours and start cruising some bars. There's got to be some horny guys out there that would be willing to sacrifice themselves for your sanity. I'm a bit horny myself and could use a little sex."

Joan told me how they left on their trip about ten the next morning that her sister just bought a new mustang; painted red with a black racing stripe down the hood. Along the way they stopped at an outlet mall and spent a couple hours shopping and grabbing a bite before getting back on the road. "We drove 'til about four, until we saw a road sign that said Gushing Springs." 

It was a small town, probably about 2000 or so people. There was a grocery store, a drug store, a gas station, a small hardware store and a bar, The Chopper. It had a big old maroon sign hanging over the door that was cut in the shape of a Harley Davidson with chopper handlebars. "Let's check it out," Katie said. "If nothing happens pretty quickly, we'll try the next town."

"I remember saying," Joan said, "What do you expect we'll find here Katie, some cotton farmers? 

She shrugged her shoulders and laughed, saying if it was a bust we could tool to the next crossroads. If that didn't work they could just go to Austin. 

"I guess I was getting cold feet so I told her that we were both big city girls that shouldn't be wasting our time in such a hick place."

"Don't be such a snob Joan," she said, "I've told you about the truck driver I met that has stopped at my place on his way through New Braunfels. He's fantastic."

***

It was hot outside, almost 100 degrees. The sight of two very attractive women walking into the bar on the deserted main street of the little Texas town was almost like a advertisement for western wear. Joan, with dark brown shoulder length hair beneath a black Stetson hat, was wearing tight jeans. The nicely shaped pear of her bottom filled the seat of her Wranglers like they had been specifically designed for her ass. They were tucked into her dark brown lizard skin boots. She was wearing a sleeveless lime colored pullover top, which enhanced her nicely shaped 36C breasts. Katie, a little shorter than her sister, wore Calvin Clines which fit her just like Joan's. They were tucked into plum colored designer boots. A shaped straw cowboy hat was cocked on her head of long, light brown hair. Her plum colored western shirt with white pearl buttons was tied in a knot, showing her smooth bare midriff. The three top buttons were undone, showing the cleavage of her 34B breasts. When they walked into the bar, a bell over the doorway tinkled. The cold, conditioned air made their skin feel clammy. 

"Welcome ladies," the bartender said, taking in the tight fitting jeans and showy blouses, "nice to see new faces for a change."

Katie asked, "Is it always this quiet on a Thursday night?"

"Usually; Friday night's better. I'm pretty sure though that you'll see a bunch of guys moseyin in purty soon." He cocked his head and laughed, "Those boys seem to have a sense of a spider when a fly lands in there webs. They'll probably be crusin her here pretty soon. Can I get y'all something to drink?"

"We'll both have a Shiner," Katie said. This was her territory and she knew the popular beers.

As the bartender was drawing the beers Joan looked at the memorabilia on the wall. There was a sign with a giant bulldog wearing a spiked collar. It was wearing a leather vest and was holding a sledgehammer. The letters at the top of the sign spelled Wreckers. Just below the sign hung a large picture showing what looked to be about twenty guys, all dressed in leathers and vests. In the middle of the front row were two tall men. One was extremely handsome with piercing eyes. The one next to him was even taller, probably 6'4" or 5". He was handsome but looked more rugged, kinda like Hulk Hogan—definitely a body builder. The whole gang, with the exception on one skinny guy, looked fit and muscular. None wore shirts beneath their vests—real beefcake. 

Setting the glasses on the bar the bartender said, "Yep, those are the Wreckers alright; this is their place...one's in the middle are Riff, on the left and Bull, on the right. They're the leaders."

Joan looked more closely at the picture. She studied the two men in the middle. As she scanned down the big one's his body her eye caught the triangular patch of denim beneath his leather pants. No picture could hide such a bulge. Must be a distortion, she thought. No man can be that big. 

***

Peter: "She told me that she thought she might have been fantasizing, that she had always been a good Catholic girl and never had much to compare with...that she had only seen her husband's pecker in the flesh."

***

"That's all we need Katie," Joan said, "to be picked up in a biker bar.

"Maybe we should drink up and get outa here," Katie said, getting real serious all of a sudden.

No sooner than the words left her mouth a distant rumble could be heard, closing with great speed, growing louder as it neared. A gathering of motorcycles pulled in front of the Chopper, the racket making the walls of the bar shudder. Almost in unison the engines went silent—one backfired. 

It took about twenty seconds for the front door of The Chopper to burst open, jangling the bell. A tall skinny guy with a dark brown ponytail came through the door. His face was covered with acne scars. From behind a voice yelled, "Hey, Needle Dick, when are ya gonna get the timing fixed on your machine?" Looking over his shoulder he shouted back, "Whatsamatter asshole, don't you like my punctuation?" Laughter came from what seemed like a crowd.

The bartender nodded at the girls. "Like I said... like a spider." He clicked his mouth.

When the thin guy saw the girls sitting at the bar, he said, "Jesus!" Turning around, he yelled, "Hey, there's strange cooze in here...real nice looking too."

Neither Joan nor Katie ever heard the word cooze before. But there was no question that it had to do with them. "Jesus, Joan," Katie said under her breath, "we'd better get the hell out of here...fast."

But fast is how the bikers filed through the door, one after the other—at least a dozen of them. It happened too fast. Finally, a very tall, very good looking guy came in. Both Joan and Katie recognized that he was the one in the picture that the bartender identified as "Riff."

"Well whaddaya know," he said with a leering grin, "we're in the land of the walking wet." 

All of the guys laughed and hooted (The bartender was already drawing pitchers of beer). The Riff guy came between Joan and Katie draping his arms over both of their shoulders. Looking first at Joan then at Katie he said over his shoulder to his shoulder to his cohorts. "I'm confused guys; I don't know which one I would rather spend the night with. Maybe they would like to share me." 

Joan looked at Katie who was rolling her eyes and thought what have we gotten ourselves into?

***

Peter: Joan said to me, "We were in deep doo-doo. Katie was scared shitless. The strange thing is that, even though I was frightened, my pussy felt like it was dripping. It was like the atmosphere in The Chopper was a fog of male hormones. I was scared. And I remember thinking that my sister and I could be in real jeopardy. At the same time I was quivering with excitement."

***

"Hold on," said a guy with a soothing voice. He was about six feet tall, had dark brown hair and soft brown eyes. His hair was neatly cut, swept back in a DA. He wore a pencil thin mustache that made him look like Zorro. Walking to Riff's side he put one arm over the big man's shoulders. His left arm rested on Joan's shoulders. "These ladies (looking first at Katie then Joan) are our guests boys. Let's not be scarin em ." To Joan: "I'm Concho. This here's Riff." indicating the big picture over the bar with his chin, "We're the Wreckers." Back over his shoulder he scanned the room and admonished, "Let's cool it boys." To Katie he asked, "What's your name honey?"

"K-K Katie," she stammered in a little girl voice, fiddling with her hands in her lap.

Turning his head to Joan he asked the same question, but only with his eyes. 

Defiantly, she answered, "I'm Joan."

"Joanie-J," he quipped. Turning to Katie he said, "and K-K-Katie. Those'll be your Wreckers names."

Jutting her chin forward Joan shot, "I'm not in the Wreckers."

Picking up a pitcher of beer Riff, with a sneer said, "Oh, but you're gonna be." He filled his glass. "Once you realize what a great bunch of guys we are you'll be beggin to join. All the cooze do." He filled her glass, then Katie's. Lifting his he proffered a toast, "to Joanie-J and K-K- Katie." 

The Wreckers—there were actually seventeen of them—echoed the toast. 

***

Joan to Peter: "They might as well have been the Musketeers shouting, all for one; one for all. Little did I realize how accurate that statement would have been."

Peter: "You must have been really scared." Her eyes looked into the past; her hands were crossed, flat on her chest, like she was feeling her heartbeat. 

Joan: "Frightened? Yes, I was frightened. I told you that I grew up a good Catholic girl. My sister was almost in a panic. She's adventurous as I am, just not as confident. The energy in that room was electric." Her nostrils flared. "Though they weren't unkempt they definitely smelled like males. It wasn't oppressive but...it was the first time I considered male perspiration primal. Two of them, the best looking of the bunch were standing close, almost crowding us. I've often wondered if a blind man would have fingered the goose bumps on my arms and legs, what he might have read."

***

Concho was definitely a soothing factor. He asked whose Mustang was outside, asked Katie where she lived. When she told him San Antonio he said his family was from San Antonio. He was surprised that Joan came all the way from New Jersey. He said how amazed he was that two beautiful women were in The Chopper at the same time. "Most of the women who come here are biker broads, very durable looking."

Joan, who had either been imagining or actually feeling Riff's breaths wafting from his nostrils onto the back of her neck, took offense that Concho didn't consider her "durable." She turned her head and looked up at him. "I can hold my own with any woman. Who's the leader here?"

"I am," Riff said, pushing his chest into her back. His closeness sent a thrill surging through her body.

"What about Bull?"

"Aha," he said, looking around at the group. "Joanie-J here has been doing her homework." He squeezed his hand on her shoulder, pulling her closer. "I'm the field general; Bull's the chief. I don't think he would suit you though little lady. The durable types are more his style.

Joan was affronted. But, when she looked up at the picture and re-inspected the bulge of Bull's package she thought, maybe durable's the right word. Just the same, she felt her pussy oozing enough lubricant to help ease the entry of that big thing.

They emptied the pitchers and ordered more. Katie had loosened up and Joan was feeling a slight buzz. There was a lot of laughter and loud talk. The Wreckers seemed less threatening. They could have been a softball team after a game; they smelt like it. They had interesting names like: Riff, Concho, Flapper, Curveball, Ski jump, Side Car, Road Kill, Lightning, Turtle Neck. Then there was Cruit, Cauliflower, Eyeballs, Skank, Fudge, One nut, Crip and Needle Dick.

Needle Dick asked, "Have ya ever ridden a Harley, Joanie-J?" 

"I've never ridden any motorcycle, much less a Harley. Have you Sis?" 

Katie who with the effect of the beer appeared much more at ease, shook her head no.

"Then, maybe you ladies would like to feel a hog between your legs."

Joan, feeling her alcohol, turned to Katie and said loudly enough for everybody to hear, "I don't think I would like that cork-screwy thing between my legs." What in the world made me say that? She rarely really used double entendres. Katie's eyes widened and she blushed. Both had been embarrassed once when they went to the county fair when they were young girls, seeing one of the hogs trying to hump a sow. The hog's corkscrew pecker looked disgusting.

"Did ya hear that?" Needle Dick said, "These girls have been around."

Riff, as if he were corralling his cows put his arms over both girls shoulders. "They musta been thinking about you, Needle Dick."

The gang erupted in hoots. 

Needle Dick just said, "Shit!"

"So, whatayathink, Joanie-J," Riff said, "ya wanta go for a ride on a real bike?"

"Like how far," she asked. 

"Just a few miles so you can get the feel of it."

She had always wondered what it would be like. "What do you think...K-K Katie," she joked, "would you like to go for a ride?"

"I'm not sure," she said.

"It sounds like fun to me," Joan retorted. "Don't be a weenie, Sis." 

When it came to mischief she always had a strong effect on her younger sister. Not giving her time to think she slid off her stool and hooked her arm through Riff's. At the same time she grabbed Katie's arm. "Let's go sweetie, there's no time like the present to have ourselves a thrill."

They trooped outside into the dusk. Riff threw his leg over his dark red Harley, kick-starting it as he patted the seat for Joan to get on behind him. Katie walked out with Concho, his arm around her waist. He mounted his pearlized emerald green Hog, and started it. She climbed on behind. All seventeen bikes were rumbling. Together and apart they revved the patented Harley Davidson sound. Riff pulled out first, followed by Concho. Needle Dick was last in line.

Wrapping her arms under Riff's arms, he twisted the accelerator full, snapping her head back, almost causing her to lose her partial grip. Her feet came off the foot rests and her legs raised about six inches. She felt unsure of her stability; the road seemed so close. It was scary. But, as the wind rushed past her face, blowing her hair, she felt her nipples tingle. She was thrilled. 

She had never experienced such a feeling of speed, never felt so controlled by man. She felt vulnerable, accessible... had the urge to wrap her legs around his waist and hump her pussy into his tight buns.




Hog Wild Ch. 01



*** 

Joan to Peter: "God, I felt like such a fucking animal. I wondered if Katie was feeling the same. She was holding tight to Concho, the look in her eyes was a mixture of fright and pleasure. It's hard to put into words what I was feeling, the possibility of being fucked by all of those cocks. But I was just fantasizing. I was sure that after a few miles they would turn around and take us back to The Chopper." After having ridden for about five minutes Joan yelled into Riff's ear, "Are we going to go back soon? I asked him how long it would be before they would take us back." 

***

Riff turned his head and yelled back, "Eventually." Slowing the bike as if to make a u-ee he made a right turn onto a narrow country lane. Twisting the accelerator again, the was quickly up to sixty again. 

Looking behind she could see Katie's light brown hair being swept back by the wind. She had one arm around Concho the other hand holding her hat on. She wasn't smiling. When their eyes finally met Katie's were pleading. Joan just hoped they would turn around soon and go back to The Chopper.

After driving a couple of miles on the dirt road Riff slowed the bike and turned left into what looked like a driveway—there was a mail box at the corner. About two hundred feet from the road was a large, old and weathered two story farmhouse, the exterior was gray. Joan could see that entrance was set up like a ranch: two telephone poles on either side of the driveway with another lying across the top. As they neared she read the sign that was hanging down, Wreckers.

"Why are we going here," she asked.

"You have to meet Bull."

"And then will you take us back?"

"Of course."

"Why do we have to meet Bull?" 

"It's a Wrecker rule, Joanie-J. Any cooze we find at The Chopper has to meet with Bull's approval."

"But," she said, "we just stopped in to see what was happening in the town."

"Just the same, since y'all are eligible, Bull has to approve."

"Eligible for what?"

"...to be members of the uh, Wreckers auxiliary. There are probably a hundred or so members in it now. It's an honor—going all the way back to the fifties. But you can't join until Bull approves. Don't worry Joanie-J, you and your sister'll like him; everybody does."

***

Joan to Peter: "The clarity of their situation frightened me. It was feeling like my sister and me wouldn't be seeing The Chopper any too soon. It felt like we were being kidnapped. I was scared."

***

The gang, like a line of ants came into the Junkyard (the name they had given the clubhouse). Forming a tight group, they were like a bunch of ants finding a sweet crumb. Like a drill team, Needle Dick bringing up the rear, their engines died at the same instant. 

Riff slid off to the right, taking Joan's reluctant hand. "We shouldn't keep the Bull waiting." 

Looking back at Katie Joan saw Concho helping her off his bike... definitely a scared deer. She wanted to talk with her younger sister but there was no way she could get close enough. Riff's hand was holding her bicep; he wasn't being rough, just purposeful. Concho directed Katie in the same way. 

***

Peter: "Can I buy you another drink?"

Joan: Looking at her watch. "Jesus! its 10:45."

Peter: "Ya mean you have to go?"

Joan: "Look Peter, if you can meet me back here at 9:00 tomorrow night I can tell you more of the story. Just telling this story, just remembering it has made me horny as hell. I need attention that I'm not going to get at home, and I need it now. Please tell me that I can follow you to your motel."

I was in my room for about five minutes before she knocked on the door. She didn't want to be blatant about being seen with me walking into the motel. As she entered she said, "I have to pee." She went into the bathroom and was there for a few minutes. When she came out she was just in her black lacy panties and bra. As she came toward me she said, "Talking about the crazy incident in my life has made me incredibly horny."

I had barely wrapped my arms around her when she kissed me. She was hungry. As she forced her tongue into my mouth she ground her belly against mine, pushing her mound and squirming against my rising cock. "Jesus," she said, "I need cock so fucking bad."

Sex controlling her entire body, Joan pushed her trembling hand against my hips opening enough space to get her hand between us. She fumbled with my zipper, bringing it down in a three syllable stutter. Her hand negotiated my open fly and the fly of my boxers, wrapping her fingers around my erect and throbbing shaft. Pulling it out she rose up on her toes, held my cock against her pussy through her panties and closed her legs trapping me. Her lips found mine again working her pussy against my hard flesh as we kissed. 

"Jesus Joan, your panties feel like you wet yourself."

"I did," she said with gasping breaths. "But ever since the Wreckers experience that happens to me even when I just think about sex."

It was driving me crazy that she was making me wait 'til the next night to hear more of the story. At the same time I wanted to put my cock in her pussy and fuck her 'til I came. 

"Jesus I need cock in me. You've got a condom don't you?"

I reached in my pocket and with my hands around her back I opened the packet, removed the rubber, dropping the packet on the floor and rolling the thin latex sheath over my cock. 

She stripped off her panties, took hold of my cock and while I flexed my knees to gain the proper angle she raised up on her toes. Pointing me up and in we both moved, she lowering herself, I stiffening my knees. As wet as she was I slid all the way inside her with incredible ease.

"Holy shit," she moaned, "that feels good." She hugged my tight and wiggled herself up and down on my cock—not in long strokes, just teasing inches. "So fucking good." She nestled her head against my shoulder. "Now Peter, take me to bed."

I cupped her ass in both hands and lifted. She wrapped her legs around my waist and I walked her over to the bed,

setting her ass on the edge of the mattress. She didn't need to be coaxed to lay back saying, "You feel so good inside me Peter," chortling in a satisfied way as she did, "I'm so glad you've got a dick worth my spending the evening with you."

As I pulled my sheathed cock almost all the way out and slid slowly back into the core of her cunt her lips formed an ecstatic oval and she emitted a dove-like coo. My eyes scanned her body, naked except for her black lacy bra and saw that the total expanse of her skin had become pebbled with goose bumps. 

"Ooh," she cooed, "I love to fuck so much...so much. And, I love strange cock!"

We were enjoying my smooth stroking, I moving in and out, she, her knees bent severely, her feet flat on the mattress, her ass grinding in small circles. Though I disliked fucking with a condom the extreme wetness of her pussy conducted her body heat through the rubber. Her tunnel seemed to be stroking me in firm, silky grip.

It was a long, slow fuck, both of us wanting to savor the switches that were being turned on in our bodies. Sometimes she would just close her eyes as if she were trying to picture my distended penis filling her delighted vagina, taking deep breaths and expelling satisfied moans. I wanted to be naked with her and told her.

"Not tonight sweetie, I don't have enough time. Can we meet earlier tomorrow at Snuffy's?"

"Mmmm, huh," I indicated, disappointed that this wouldn't last much longer, but thrilled that we would have another go at it after having gotten the newness out of the way.

She pulled up her bra, exposing her breasts and mashed them against her chest moving them in opposing circles. She bit her lip and shuddered her first orgasm, settled and said, "I need more."

I didn't want her to coach me so I increased the rhythm of my strokes. Her head began to waggle. She bit her lip and breathed in through her nose, letting out a snort then another. "More."

As my fucking tempo increased she pulled her legs back and spread them, jerking her legs to the pace of my thrusts. The ovaled lips again and noises like a little girl needing to pee. Her hand went to her clitoris and started rubbing fast. "Harder."

I was slamming her my mound almost crushing her hand that was between us. Her fingers never stopped working, "Harder."

It was like a sustained hum that started low and slid higher and higher until it sounding like a circular saw cutting through hardwood, "Harder!"

Over and over our bodies slammed, her legs now flailing wildly, the humming now replaced with shrieks. All of a sudden her legs strangled my waste and her breath released like a death rattle. He legs jerked tight around me three, now four times and her body released to total relaxation. My ejaculations drained my balls, making my legs turn to rubber as my cum filled the inside of the covering rubber. I collapsed on her body and both her arms and legs embraced me. 

We lay in a satisfied heap for about five minutes when she sighed, "As much as I hate to Peter, I have to go."

I didn't argue with her or try to convince her to stay. She had her life, turmoiled as it was. 

"The things I have to tell you," she said, "will knock your socks off. And, I'll get even hotter than I have tonight; we can take care of more of each other's needs." She hesitated then kissed me almost plaintively. "I think the story about the bikers will fascinate you but the other stuff? You might not ending up liking me very much." With that she opened the door and left...



Hog Wild Ch. 02



During the symposium the next day I was distracted by thoughts of Joan. I kept revisiting how exciting it was to have this strange, naked woman on my bed, how silky her pussy felt around my condom covered erection, the excitement of her quivering orgasms, the high when I came, the low of post ejaculation and the satisfaction of lying beside her for that short period. Then, there was the story she was telling me. Would she really be there tonight? Would I hear the rest of the story that held such promise? Would we again be naked in bed, my cock sliding in her pussy, tasting her, having her lips around my cock? Would I cum in her mouth? Truth be told, I didn't get much out of the symposium that day. 

I went to Snuffy's at eight. When I walked through the door Snuffy greeted me. With a smirk and a jerk of his head he indicated that she was in the same booth as last night; apparently it was something he was accustomed to. I slid in beside her, put my arm over her shoulders and pulled her close. 

Leaning her head against my shoulder she said, "You really got me going last night Peter." Her laugh indicated surprise and enjoyment. "It was really just a quickie. But I came like I hadn't come in a long time." She became quiet, seemed deep in thought. Her hand moved to the top of my thigh, rubbing it absently. Just as absently she said, "Maybe you're just a little classier than what I'm used to."

'"There's nothing special about me," I said. Her body language encouraged me to think otherwise. Changing the subject I asked, "Are you and your husband still pissed off at one another?"

"I was pissed at him. He can be such an asshole sometimes." She turned her head and riveted my eyes. Shaking her head she revealed, "You got me so turned on last night Peter that I attacked him." She giggled. "Maybe it was the way you got me going but I thought he was actually good. We must have sucked and fucked for two solid hours. Then, I went to sleep and dreamed about the four days with the motorcycle gang; Ha-ha."

"What?"

"Dreams are weird; you were there." 

I took it as my cue to ask a question. I didn't want to. I wanted to take her back to my hotel right then and see how long we could suck and fuck. But, last night, the story (at least as much as I heard) had me riveted—until we took a sex break of our own. "So they took you and your sister to their clubhouse; then what?"

"The place was an old farmhouse," she began. "But it was big—two stories."

The front room was set up like a living room. There were two couches and two armchairs—all maroon leather. In the middle was a large coffee table strewn with biker and girlie magazines. I saw a porno magazine on top. Large tiffany lamps sat on four occasional tables at the end of the couches. As we walked into the next room Riff yelled for Bull to come see what they had brought for him. I was pissed that he referred to us as "something" rather than someone. It was like we were pieces of prime meat. 

The next room was the original family dining room. It was larger than the living room and was converted into a bar. Oak wainscot, about 36" high went all the way around the room. Above the wainscot the walls were painted maroon; there were all kinds of biker decorations on the walls. Like all these old houses the ceilings were really high. Two ceiling fans hanging from the ceiling whirled slowly. At the end of the room, between a stairway on the left and a door to the right, was a beat up oak bar. It came off the wall about six feet and was surrounded by eight oak swivel stools. Over the bar was the same Wrecker sign we saw at the Chopper. Under the sign was the same picture. On either side of the large picture was a 9x10 picture, Bull on the left, Riff on the right. The wall to the right of the bar was covered with framed, 9x10 pictures—maybe a hundred of them. The earliest ones (15 or so) were in black and white. The rest were in color. They were all head shots, mostly of attractive women. Some were kinda rough looking—the "durable types." Judging by the hairstyles the pictures went back as far as the fifties. A large black sign with pink script lettering read, Tits and Clits. 

Peter: When I laughed Joan asked why. I told her that in San Diego, where I was from there's a women's summer soft ball league. Some of the names are kinda funny, kinda suggestive. One is called Tits and Clits.

Joan: "Yes," she laughed, "but I bet they weren't as active as our tits and clits...Katie's and mine and the hundred other girls whose pictures were on the wall. At the time though, I didn't even think about theirs. Ours were the ones that were tingling and hurting." 

Through the door on the right a giant of a man, probably 6'7," darkened the room. He was buttoning the top button of his Levis. Bare-chested, he wore boot socks. His Pecs looked almost like breasts, covered with a mat of hair. His rugged, handsome face sported a blonde walrus mustache. His damp blonde hair, hanging in a ponytail, betrayed his recent shower. 

"Well, well, well" he chortled, "look what my boys have brought in." In total body scrutiny his eyes ogled the two women. To Joan he said, "Sisters?"

With a shy smirk she said, "Yes," daring to return his gaze with a deep stare of her own.

"Even better," he mused. "By the way bitch, I like your attitude." Then, recognizing the obvious fear on Katie's face he said, "You and your sister have nothing to worry about here. We're not like the Hells Angels; we're not animals. We're civilized Hogs. What's your name, Hon?"

She started to answer but Riff cut in, "This here's Joanie-J, and her sister's K-K Katie."

Holding up his hand, Bull ignored Riff. "I apologize for my friend's enthusiastic response, honey. What's your name?"

Ordinarily she would have been irritated being called honey by a stranger. But every man in Texas called women honey or sweetie or darlin. "I'm Joan. This is my sister Katie."

Spreading both arms he said, "Are these ladies prisoners or something?" Looking around the room he put his hands on his hips. "Let go of their arms for Christ's sake. We're supposed to be welcoming our guests, not terrorizing them."

As Riff's hand released her bicep Joan's angst eased. Bull, though such an imposing man, made her feel welcome. He seemed a gentleman. She shuddered as she felt a warm coating of mucous lubricated her labia. 

Through a roguish smile Bull said, "Welcome to the Junkyard ladies. "Would you like a drink?"

Joan answered, "We were drinking Shiners at The Chopper."

"We've got it on tap even." Bull walked behind the bar, opened the refrigerator and took out two frosted glasses, drawing each one with a perfect head. He set them on the bar then drew another for himself. With a smile he nodded at the glasses, indicating for them to pick them up. Lifting his own he toasted, "It's such a pleasure to be in the presence of such beauty." He held his glass high for them to touch. The women touched theirs to his. "Welcome to the Wreckers."

After sipping his beer he set his glass on the bar (the girls held on to theirs). He turned, opened the fridge and took out enough glasses for everybody else, filling them as each of the Wreckers, from Riff to Needle Dick, took their glass. When he was finished he lifted his glass and said, "Thanks for taking good care of these ladies boys." To the women he said, "I assume they treated you okay." He shook his head and said, "I don't like physicality or crudeness," to which there were smirks from most of the Wreckers.

Peter: "Did you think it was part of the initiation?"

Joan: "I remember looking at Katie. We were both relieved. We had gone through their silly ritual and thought we would be going back to The Chopper soon. Bull told Needle Dick to get the camera, which he did. He took pictures with Katie and Me standing on either side of Bull. Then, he took a couple of each of us for the wall. 'You'll each get a copy,' Bull said to us. 'About the names,' he said in a soothing voice, 'We never give nicknames to our uh...auxiliary,' looking up at the wall to his left '...until we conduct an initiation.' He smiled, looking first at me then Katie, then back at me. 'Personally, I think the boys have done a great job with their suggestions: Joanie-J and K-K -Katie. Actually there are two more Joanie's, so we have to differentiate.' With a stern countenance he looked at me then Katie. 'There's a Kate, a Kat and a Kathy.' He looked at us again, shaking his head. 'But, the only way those monikers can be your Wreckers names is for you to go through the initiation.' "

With the beers and the toasts we thought we were home free. But the "initiation" seemed to be taking on a different life. He didn't push anything though, just talked with us asking about our lives, where we lived, where we grew up, what our families were like. Did I have children? Was I happily married? Did Katie have any prospects? It was like meeting someone in a bar. With the beers we had at The Chopper, coupled with the ones we just finished, we were quite mellow. He pulled us both another beer.

After drinking about a quarter of the beer in the glass I began to feel a woozy. I heard Bull say, "Something wrong, sweetie?" I shook my head to clear my thoughts... told him I didn't think so, that maybe I had too many beers. Feeling dizzy I put my hands flat on the bar to steady myself; I remember that. And, I remembered saying, "I think these Shiners are stronger than the beer I drink at home."

I remember Bull saying, "Ya know what I think, Joanie-J? I think it's because you had those powerful bikes between your legs, sittin behind these studs..." 

When I looked at Katie the alarm went off. Her head was laying on her crossed arms on the bar.

The next thing Joan knew she was laying on a big round water bed. She remembered a black ceiling fan going round and round. "It made me feel like my face was following it... round and round. Bull was standing with his back to me. He was straddling my left leg, pulling on my cowboy boot."

"Put your foot on my ass and push Joanie," he said. She felt like she was suspended in a fog. "Do it baby," he commanded. She pushed on his ass and he worked my boot off. He did the same thing with the right boot.

Peter: "I asked her if she realized she had been drugged."

Joan: "I didn't realize anything. I just felt like I was floating on a cloud. Bull looked like this incredible fucking giant. To me it was all part of a foggy dream."

Peter: "Did you wonder where your sister was?"

Joan: "I didn't even think about her. I found out later that she was upstairs with Riff, undergoing the same ritual, so to speak. I had no idea how long my "initiation" was going to last."

Bull turned around and leaned down. He peeled her jeans under her butt and off her legs. "Raise up, baby," he said. She lifted her ass off the bed and he stripped off her panties. "Beautiful," he whispered. "Give me your hands Joanie." 

She complied and he pulled her to a sitting position; her body was limp. She slumped as he pulled up her lime green sleeveless top. "Raise you arms, sweetie." She lifted her arms, he shucked her top. Reaching behind her back he unhooked her bra, her breasts giving way to gravity. "Lay back," he commanded. Her back plopped on the floating waterbed. 

Joan: "I felt like I was drifting on a gently rolling sea."

He told her to put her feet on the edge of the bed. Bending her knees she put her heels on the board that held the waterbed in place. "Spread you legs darlin." She spread her legs. His eyes captured the vista, the contour of her lips, her neatly trimmed mound, up to her breasts, to her face then back between her legs, which caused a tiny whistle."Open your pussy for me." 

Putting her fingers on her pussy lips she opened herself to him. "Tits and clits," he whispered, "They're all so fucking beautiful...and each one different."

Peter: "And you didn't feel threatened at all?" 

Joan: "Not in the least, I was in this incredible miasma. It was like I was in a cocoon. The world was beautiful. Not since I was a little girl exploring myself had I ever spread my pussy like that. When he said how beautiful I was I felt like a princess, wanted to preen in front of a mirror. For the first time I felt proud of my parts, something, as a Catholic, I had been brought up to consider the burden of original sin."

Peter: "Did you have any idea that Bull was going to rape you?"

Joan: "Rape me?" she laughed, "At that point I was just hoping he would fuck me. He leaned down and kissed me. I was amazed that a guy who looked so rough could kiss so sensuously. His soft lips on mine made my body glow from the inside out. I opened my mouth before he even attempted to probe. Thinking back, until I felt his in my mouth I never considered, at least consciously, about how amazing another person's tongue felt. Its top was like soft velvet. Underneath, it was slick like... like...the only way I can describe it is the way my pussy lips feel to my fingers when I masturbate."

He straightened up and worked the metal button of his Levis through the buttonhole. Casually, he unzipped them and pushed them down, stepping out. There was an incredible bulge in his boxers, a bulge so large that Joan thought she was hallucinating. Standing in front her completely naked with his log of a cock protruding so imposingly she remembered the picture of him that she saw at The Chopper, the bulge in his jeans where his leathers were cut to a triangle, exposing the bulging fabric beneath.

Joan: "Even in the condition I was in I wondered 'how the hell was he going to get that huge thing inside me?' He wasn't even hard yet, which made it even more awesome. His humungous organ was arcing like a giant salami, pumping up and down to the beat of his heart, each time going a little higher and getting a little straighter...and fatter. He told me, 'Get down on your knees, Hun ...facing me.' He said it so forcefully that I complied immediately. It didn't take a brain surgeon to know why he was boss of the Wreckers; he was a natural leader. The only problem I had was his, did I say cock? It was more like one of those souvenir baseball bats, only it wasn't tapered at the bottom. And his head...his head was purple and shiny, like a giant plum. His balls hung down like a sack of potatoes. No wonder he was called Bull. I remember thinking, 'how can I do anything with that monster?'"

Peter: "So, I guess size does matter." 

Joan: "I was on all fours on the waterbed; I wasn't accustomed to the instability of the mattress and almost fell over. Grabbing the wooden bed frame edge to keep from falling, my face was sticking out past the edge of the bed. Bull's monster cock was almost touching my nose. I remember how huge his slit was, and the crystal bead that was filling it. It was unbelievable. Does size matter? Jesus, it sure as hell mattered that night."

"Kiss it baby," he said with so much charm that she not only kissed it, but loved kissing it.

Sucking cock was nothing new to Joan; her husband's had been in her mouth hundreds of times...all of it. The problem she had with Bull's was that his head alone looked like it was too big for her mouth. Tentatively she gingerly touched the precum in his slit, an amount she couldn't even imagined in her husband's.

"Come on baby," he said as he put his hand on the back of her head, gently encouraging her forward, "open up; it's fit in everyone else's mouth. You'll do fine."

His eyes hypnotized her. Opening her lips she licked them and slid her mouth over his head. She couldn't believe how big it was. But he was right; even though she felt like her mouth was stretching she got him inside. Pulling her head to him he slid his incredible bulk over her tongue, until his plum-like head touched the back of her throat. Most of his cock was still outside. When she gagged he pulled back to allow her to breathe.

"This is for me Joanie-J," he said in a soothing voice. "I'm just gonna fuck your mouth for a bit and cum, ok?" With his cock plugging her mouth she looked pleadingly into his eyes and nodded yes. Slow and easy he moved back and forth in her mouth. The shock passed and she was enjoying the way his warm flesh felt as it slid over her tongue, gently bumping her soft pallet. Making a trough with her tongue she created a cradle for it to slide on, then moved her tongue forward and back to increase his pleasure.

"That's it baby," he soothed, "yesss, that's good, baby, very good. You're such a sweetie." With his left hand he caressed her head, combing her hair with his fingers. With his right he fondled her cheek, her neck and under her chin. All the while, as he held her eyes with his, smiling and sighing his approval, he gently fucked her mouth. 

Joan: "I felt the strong pulse of his heart beating in the mouthful of his penis. His nostrils flared as he grew more excited. His lips formed an oval and whispered, 'yes, yes, yes.' With my head sandwiched between his hands he started pumping faster." 

"I'm almost there Joanie," he seethed between clenched teeth, "yes, I'm almost there." His body tensed. "I'm gonna cum in your mouth honey, k?" She wiggled her head, yes, as if she really wanted it. 

Joan: "The truth is, I really wanted it." 

His hand was wrapped around the part of his rod that wasn't in her mouth; that part was still longer than her husband's full cock. He started jacking, his body jiggling and tensing as his softly bagged, hanging walnuts brushed and bounced on Joan's chin. As he went completely stiff, like he was in a trance, she felt his cum forcing its way in gouts through his cum canal, afraid she would choke on what was coming. What emptied into her mouth was beyond belief. It was warm and thick—a cum chug-a-lug—like he broke two Grade-A large eggs and dropped them into her mouth. 

As she gulped his huge string of sperm Bull cried out, "Jesus, Joanie, Jee-zuss!" His cock recoiled again, cramped and let go another flood. "Holy shit, baby!" Three more times his massive penis flexed, each time diminishing. His cock softened. Even in its softening state though, it was more male organ than she had ever had in her mouth. Flopping on his back, making the water in the mattress surge, he threw his left arm across Joan's back and hooked his fingers on her side, pulling her crosswise on his torso. Putting his hands under her arms he encouraged her to straighten on his body until she lay on his huge frame, feeling the cum-wetness of his soft, bunching cock. He pulled her too him. 

Joan: "I sucked my husband's cock—even before we got married—but I never really enjoyed it. Ever since Bull though I love it...can't seem to get enough. I wanted to suck yours so bad last night but I just didn't have time. I needed your cock inside me more." Chuckling, "I made up for it with my husband's though. He loved it."

Peter: She'd been patting and rubbing the top of my leg. Her hand pressed against my cock, which was hard and sticking straight up. Her fingers circled it through the fabric of my pants and started a slow stroking. She smiled at me and I smiled, rolling gently in my seat. I was thankful for the long tablecloth that hid our actions.

"You've got great tits, Joanie-J," Bull said as he hugged her body to him. "I love how they flatten on my chest." His hairy curls tickled her nipples. His full mustache tickled between her nose and lip. Again, she was surprised at how sensually he kissed. 

"It's exciting kink Joanie," he said, "to be kissing you after I came in your mouth. I love the taste of it on your lips, the smell of it on your breath. And, it always amazes me how much softer a woman's lips are after they have sucked my cock." 

Searching her eyes he smiled and said, "I have a compliment for you, sweetie pie; you undoubtedly have given me one of the finest blowjobs I've ever had."




Hog Wild Ch. 02



Joan: "I imagined preening myself at the compliment. I felt good. At the same time, I got pissed. 'Jesus,' I thought, 'this guy just forced me to perform oral sex on him. Now he's gonna rape me. I'm feeling good about sucking this bastard's cock? What the hell is wrong with me? What is Katie going through? And what is she thinking?'

He seemed to be reading her mind. "I know baby; it's probably hard for you to figure out. But each and every one of the Tits and Clits girls has gone through it. Most of them have come back for more...some even ten years after they were initiated." 

"What's going to happen to me Bull?" She was disappointed that the question coming out of her mouth sounded like a pathetic whine.

"I told you baby; the blowjob was for me. Now, this is gonna be for you." 

Kissing her, he eased his tongue inside her mouth. His hand went between her legs, his finger sliding through her honey filled crack until it found her clitoris, a hard pebble to his touch. Everything about Bull was big. His finger, as it covered her clit, seemed to her like the size of a cigar. Pushing it inside Joan's cunt it felt like a dildo. And, he did something she had never experienced before: Hooking his finger against the front of her vagina he rubbed what she later found out was her g-spot. Each time he pushed the swelling spot it seemed to get bigger and she would get wetter, like he was pushing on the bottom of an antique oilcan. When he brought his finger back out it was soaked. She was soaked. Her labia felt like they were being marinated in something that made her think of canned peach nectar. Washing the slippery sauce over her clit with his huge fingertip caused shocks that made her scrunch her toes. He didn't press very hard, just kept diddling her clit. Her first orgasm was an explosion.  

"You likin, huh it darling?" 

"Yessss," she expelled in a long whisper.

Bringing his wet finger to Joan's mouth he glossed her lips. The smell of her pussy coupled with the taste of her sex on his finger was something she hadn't experienced before. Turned on, she suckled it like a hungry baby. Then, he placed his lips on Joan's, sliding them through the coating of joy juice. Opening her mouth with his tongue he coaxed her to trade saliva and explore. 

His hand went back between her legs, doing the clit again, this time pushing harder. She bucked against him. The second orgasm was harder and longer than the first; her whole body spazzed. As she shuddered, her asshole puckering and twitching, his finger kept working. "Jesus," she thought, "one more and it will equal the most exciting night I've ever had." 

Rolling her off of him he climbed out of bed and reached toward the headboard, picking up a pillow. He put it on the edge of the waterbed, covering the hard board that kept the mattress from shifting. He lifted Joan's ass and helped her scootch on top of the pillow; her legs hanging over the edge. In one motion he grasped her ankles, spread and raised her legs and dropped to his knees. 

As she felt his hot mouth covering her pussy she shuddered. His walrus mustache tickled the insides of her thighs. Like all parts of his body even his tongue was imposing. It totally covered her slot, the buds on top velvetizing her vulva and clit. He certainly knew what he was doing. Joan thought of the pictures of all the girls that were hanging on the wall. As he flicked her clit with the tip of his tongue she looked down at his head between her legs to his muscular back that was hunched over. His educated tongue found a mass of nerve endings she never knew were there. She kicked and squirmed. 

"Okay, Joanie," he slobbered through her drenched labia, "Go for it." 

Coming in what seemed like an epileptic fit she vibrated. "Jesus," she thought "that's three... the best one I've ever had."

He raised her legs high then gripped each butt cheek and spread them. Sliding his tongue from her clit to her anus he rimmed the tender rosette. Kissing it he pressed his lips against it like a trumpeter playing his instrument.

Joan: "My asshole was puckering so violently that I thought it was going to cramp. I felt his warm spit oozing inside of me (nobody had ever done that to me before). I went crazy, shuddering, quivering in my fourth orgasm. I could not fucking believe what was happening to me! Looking up, my eyes caught the clock on the wall; it was 10:31. Since Bull had blasted his load into my mouth he had been playing with me for almost twenty-five minutes. Already, he had given me given me four orgasms...FOUR ORGASMS. And he hadn't even fucked me yet! I didn't know if I was quite was ready for that ball bat cock of his. But I was definitely in need of something hard and warm inside me."

As he stood up it was like a giant genie coming out of a bottle. His mustache had become limp and straight from being soaked in her nectar, his monster cock protruded like sawed of tree limb from his groin. Her eyes were opened so wide that her eyeballs, like in a cartoon, were bugging out of their sockets. His balls looked like they had been grafted onto his body from a rodeo bull. His huge paw was wrapped around his fat shaft but it held less than half of his cock. The first four inches, the part Joan had sucked, was reddened. Five inches of his cock was hidden in his grip, which left almost six more inches of just... pink meat, from the edge of his fist to the part she had sucked. His giant knob was almost blue...like a big, shiny plumb.

"You look surprised Joanie," he chortled.

Like an awed child she said in a small voice, "I just can't imagine that...that...thing fitting inside me." She was helpless; he could have done anything he wanted to with her. And she wanted him to. Her cunt was literally drenched with her wanting. 

"Oh, ho, ho" he laughed, "It'll fit inside you alright. And...you'll not believe what it's going to do to you. I have that on good authority from at least thirty of the Tits and Clits who have preceded you." 

The pictures she had seen on the wall raced through her mind. Biting her lip she watched as he spit into his hand and slathered the saliva all over his bulging plum. Steadying his huge cock in his hand he bent his knees, bringing his member even with her pussy. She craned her neck and lifted head, watching as he rubbed his mammoth glans in her sloppy groove, getting it well lubed. That massiveness of what she felt against her pussy almost overwhelmed her.

"Just relax baby," he said. "Take a couple deep breaths, like they taught you in Lamaze." When she raised her eyebrows questioning how he knew, he explained, "You've had babies come out of there sweetie, they're not much but I can see the trace of stretch marks on your belly. So," he chuckled, "your cunt's big enough to take ole Bull's cock."

He made a couple of false probes, not pushing in, just kind getting her used to his size. She was thankful that he was being gentle with her though she didn't really trust him. Like he had coaxed her to she was doing breathing exercises. When he pushed his head against her hole easing it open she thought, "Jesus, he's trying to force that thing inside me." When the plum-sized head popped inside her vaginal ring she couldn't believe what was happening between her legs. 

"Stop, stop," she pleaded. "Wait, please!" 

With the head of his cock plugged into her pussy ring he stopped. "It'll be alright Joanie," he said as he caressed her face with the back of his left hand. He fondled her right breast with his right hand, coaxing, "Sh, sh," as his hips moved in and out in tiny micro probes. 

Biting her lip like a little girl getting a shot she nodded her head in tiny okays as his cock moved about a half an inch inside. His hand on her breast coned his fingers to her nipple and squeezed. At the same instant he pushed his cock in another half inch. 

"That hurts," she said, feeling his finger and thumb pinching her nipple harder. "Ow!" He kept squeezing. 

"If you want the pleasure Joanie you've gotta accept the pain." He riveted her eyes. "Trust me on this." 

She glared at him thinking, "sure, you asshole, like you're raping me and you expect me to trust you." She was in the twilight zone between trust and terror. He pinched harder. The pain was excruciating. Just as she opened her mouth to scream the stinging stopped. 

Joan: "I couldn't believe it, my nipple was absolutely numb. He let go of it and the rush of blood filling my nipple throbbed and hurt. Then, it started to tingle like when your foot goes to sleep. All of a sudden an astoundingly pleasant electrical charge surrounded my pussy and zapped my clitoris."

She screamed, not because of the pain but because of the shock of what was happening, not to mention the feelings his steer-like cock was causing as it filled her pussy... totally. Her orgasm was so intense that she swooned. When she came to it was like she had been knocked out. 

His voice seemed to be coming through a fog. "I don't think, Joanie, I have ever seen a woman come so hard that it knocked her out." 

Knowing that she would take him all he pushed as hard as he could. Though she was incredibly tight his log, like a giant python going inside its hole, slithered inside rather easily. It seemed like the process was never going to end, until his plum head bumped her cervix. 

She couldn't believe the monster that was inside her. Buts she had just experienced her first vaginal orgasm and couldn't help but think, "Five orgasms, how good is that?" At the same instant she imagined that she was inside the confessional at her church. Filled with guilt she thought, "How am I going to tell about this in confession?" 

Slowly, he moved his gargantuan snake in an out of Joan's hole, his massive balls thumping on her ass each time the plum hit her cervix. It was like a pile driver. And it was doing things to her she would never have imagined. Like a water canon finding gold nuggets on a hillside mine it was uncovering nerve endings that she never knew to exist. Slamming her five times she came again, once again blacking out. When she regained consciousness his bull sized meat was still fucking her. She realized that he had been pumping for at least ten minutes with no indication that he was going to cum.

Peter: Joan and I had a few drinks by this time. The story was driving me nuts, not to mention the fact that she had my cock out of my fly and was stroking to the intensity of the story. I was speechless. In the act of shooting a world class load, my heart felt like it would explode.

Joan: "Jesus, Peter, I wondered just how long you were going to last."

Peter: She took her hand out from under from under the table, looking at the goo on her fingers and the hollow of her palm. With a kind of perpetual awe she said, "You can't imagine how much I love it." Opening her hand she licked it like an all day sucker. Like a conspirator she murmured, "Let's forget about the story for a while Hun. Let's go back to your hotel, ok?"

I couldn't believe my good fortune. Not only was I getting a world class story, but I was getting the kind of sexual thrill I had usually only fantasized about. In my room I took off all my clothes and put on the terrycloth robe the hotel provided. Joan hadn't yet pulled out of the parking lot behind me when I left but I knew she would be knocking at the door momentarily. As I paced in anticipation I thought of her being savaged by Bull's tremendous member wondering, after having had such a large cock satisfying her, how she could enjoy being fucked by mine. Though certainly adequate, it was no match for his. Still feeling the effects of cumming in Joan's hand my balls tingled. As I walked back and forth the excitement of the story and the thrill of being jacked off under the table started filling my penis with blood again. "Kinky," I thought, the image of her tongue lapping, then licking her hand clean of my creamy semen, filling my mind. The act itself provided me perverse pleasure. As I paced my swollen cock slapped from leg to leg until it parted the robe, rigid, contrasting the snowy white of the robe with the purplish pink of my cockhead. She knocked at the door.

"Well, look at you," she said with a chuckle, her lips curling into a broad smile. "It looks like little Peter is coming out to play."

After thinking about Bull's massiveness, the reference to Peter being "little" made me feel inadequate.

As if she were reading my thoughts she murmured, "You've got a nice sized cock hun." Maybe, after Bull, she thought she had to mollify each of her lovers. "I was all goose bumps when you came in my hand," she cooed. Coming closer, with one hand reaching for my cock, she kissed me. "Mmmm," she purred, "Isn't sex the most wonderful thing on God's earth?"

"Mmm, huh," I hummed, her lips pressing on mine.

Jacking me she broke the kiss and whispered in my ear, "I just can't get enough of it. I'm bad Peter, real bad."

"How bad," I asked, my balls throbbing from their recent use.

"I think you'll hate me if I tell you everything." Using my hips for balance she knelt and sucked my cock deep inside her mouth. Holding my balls she sucked me deep five times, slid her mouth off my cock and said, "But I've had lots of cocks in my mouth." Looking up at me with doe eyes she asked, "Does my telling this bother you? Or is it exciting?"

I thought about what she asked, thought about all of the sex stories I had written—most figments of my imagination. I had only known a few women in my life, having been married—monogamously—for thirty-three years. My stories were just mirrors of the fantasies I had missed realizing. The story of the motorcycle gang that she was spinning was true, last night was true, and the woman kneeling in front of me sucking my cock was true. For the first time in my life I was aware that the woman I was with had experienced wild and varied sex, and reveled in it. As I looked down upon her, her open mouth poised to take me in, her eyes searching mine for rejection or acceptance, I realized that the woman in front of me was not only the fountain of stories to come, but the possibility of the kind of illicit sex I had been dreaming of. The power of these thoughts drove me to a level of excitement I never before realized. I was out of control. The weakness in my knees caught me by surprise; the cat was out of the bag. 

It was like in the movie BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR where Marilyn Chambers was swinging on a velvet rope swing, with a group of men beside her jacking off and cumming on her. In the movie the jizz shots were repeated over and over in slow motion. That's what seemed to be happening with my own explosion. When the first shot splashed her face it registered shock, then pleasure then glee. I had wanted to do that so many times before but was too much of a gentleman. Now, my mind having taken over, that designation was taken out of the formula. Feasting on the view of her splooge covered face, the gobbets of white sperm punctuating in her dark hair, I gasped, "Does that answer your question?"

I wanted to hear it all, to let my imagination revel in her badness. I knew that after last night and before I left New Jersey I would. Had I become her sexual confidant? Or, did she tell this to everyone she met? I reached for her hands, pulling her to her feet. Placing my hands on her face I smoothed them through my sexual goo, massaging the aloe into her pores before saying, "I want you naked Joanie..."



Hog Wild Ch. 03



Holly sat on Alex's couch, her mind abuzz with the day's events.

As soon as she had agreed to stay with him, Alex had practically swooped her back down those dreaded stairs, only allowing her enough time to grab a pair of jeans and a sweater. In between assurances that his place "was plenty big enough" for the two of them and that he'd help her pack all her belongings "tomorrow, as early as possible," she'd barely had time to think about her decision.

Now that she was lounging comfortably, her legs propped up on a fluffy cushion and an aspirin taking the edge off her pain, she was able to wrap her mind around the fact that she was in Alex's loft, and that this was her home for the time being.

What the hell have I gotten myself into? she thought, a frown coming to her face as a feeling of apprehension sprang up in her stomach. 

Never one to make a hasty choice, Holly took a moment to chastise herself for her rash behavior. Sure, she'd been desperate and hysterical; that didn't justify taking Alex up on his offer, not when they'd known each other for less than 24 hours. 

Stealing a glance toward the kitchen, she watched Alex preparing some sort of pasta dish. He was humming faintly, and Holly stifled a laugh as she recognized it to be a tune by a washed-up boy band. His black hair fell into his eyes, and the lines of his face were settled into a look of placid contentment. 

Holly continued to watch as Alex grabbed a knife and began to chop some mushrooms. She admired the slight rippling of muscle in his tanned arms, caused by his ministrations. Suddenly finding her mouth devoid of moisture, she cleared her throat softly.

Alex looked up at the sound and shot her an easy grin. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I'm okay," Holly lied. Not wanting to admit that what she was feeling was a bit more primal, she continued, "Actually, I think I'd be more comfortable if I could get out of these clothes."

Alex raised an eyebrow, his grin widening to a seductive smile. It was only then that Holly realized the innuendo in what she had said. Blushing furiously, she hastened to correct herself. "I mean... I just don't usually... sit around... in my work clothes," she explained lamely, unable to meet Alex's eyes as he laughed lowly. 

"I might have some sweats you could change into," Alex said, setting down the knife and striding around the kitchen counter toward her. 

"Really?" Holly said, her breath coming a bit more shallowly as he moved closer. 

"Yeah," Alex said, smiling down at her as he offered his hand. "Let me help you up, and we'll go check my drawers."

Holly reluctantly placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her up carefully. He rested her right arm over his shoulders, and she leaned her weight against him as they hobbled together down the hallway leading, presumably, to Alex's bedroom.

Holly quickly surveyed the room as he kicked the door open. It, too, had expansive white walls, only instead of framed reviews it featured framed artwork. The space was dominated by a large, wrought iron bed, the bedding of which was black and white. There was a black dresser in a corner of the room, and the large window behind the bed held a breathtaking view of the city.

"You sure are a fan of minimalistic style, aren't you?" Holly asked wryly.

"Black and white are my favorite colors, yes," Alex replied, smirking. "And I see no need for frills and fuss. I am a guy, after all."

"I guess," Holly said, taking her arm from around Alex and limping closer to one of the pieces of art. "Hey," she said, looking at Alex. "This looks like it was painted by a four year old." Glimpsing the other paintings, she added, "They all do."

"That might be because they are painted by a four year old," Alex said, walking over to stand nearer to Holly. "Well, a five year old, anyway. These were done by my niece."

"You have a niece?" Holly asked.

"I do," Alex answered, a look of amusement crossing his face. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

Holly felt her cheeks color, and she bit her lip. "I don't know," she said. "I really don't know as much about you as I thought I did, do I?"

Alex felt a wave of desire rush through him as he watched Holly's small, pearly teeth gnaw on her pink bottom lip. It must be a nervous quirk of hers, he thought, shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts. "And what is it you know about me, little one?" he asked.

"Only what was in that short biography your agent gave me to read," Holly answered. "It didn't mention anything about your family, though." She was biting her lip again; Alex was fighting the urge to give her lip a bite, too.

"I have a younger brother," he said, quickly turning his attention back to the finger painting on his wall. "Amelia is his only child, and since she's the only niece I've got, naturally I dote on the little brat."

Holly laughed, turning to look at Alex. She saw him in profile, noticing the fondness on his face as he looked at his niece's work. Beginning to see him in a new light, she said, "Well, Amelia's got talent, I can say that for sure."

"I suppose creativity runs in the Grant family," Alex joked, waggling his eyebrows at her and making her laugh even more. "Now how about we get you into some pajamas?"

Strolling over to the dresser, Alex opened the top drawer and rummaged around for a few seconds. Holly preoccupied herself with the other paintings on the wall. One showcased what appeared to be a garden, with a giant sunflower in the middle; another featured a stick figure family in front of a large square house. 

"Here you go," Alex said, prompting Holly to turn around. He tossed a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt onto the bed. "Those will most definitely hang like sacks on you, but they'll have to do for now."

"Thank you," Holly murmured, embarrassed at the thought of wearing a man's clothes. 

"No problem," Alex replied, feeling a bit embarrassed himself. A moment of silence passed between them before Alex said, "I'll, uh, be in the kitchen if you need me."

He started for the door, and he was almost safely outside it when he heard Holly ask, "Is it alright if I... take a shower, too?"

Smiling slightly at the timidity in her voice, he said over his shoulder, "Go right ahead. Clean towels are in the cabinet under the sink." 

He walked back toward the kitchen without another look behind him, leaving Holly wondering what she'd said to make the moment so awkward.

*

"Christ, Murray, what have I done?" Alex ranted at the cat, who was sitting on the desk and looking rather self-satisfied. Back in the kitchen, Alex ran the knife haphazardly through the mushrooms, though the recipe clearly called for a clean chop. 

Absentmindedly pouring the pasta in the boiling water to cook, Alex found his thoughts consumed by the ginger-haired minx who was now naked in the bathroom.

He heard the shower turn on and pictured the water running over her creamy curves, soap foaming in most inappropriate places.

Hell, he thought. I really need to get laid.

It had been eight years since his last relationship, and it had ended so badly that he hadn't been with a woman since. In general he found the opposite sex to be annoying; in particular, he found them to be unworthy of his time.

Now that spitfire of a girl waltzes into your life and you jump all over her, Alex chided himself. What's the matter with you, old man?

Alex wasn't so sure he even knew how to handle a woman anymore. One minute he was infuriated by Holly, the next he was kissing her like his life depended on it. Then, to top it all off, he invited her to move in with him.

"Am I an idiot, or what?" Alex said, scowling at Murray. Murray simply yawned. 

"You mark my words, you useless blob," Alex swore, pointing his finger at the cat, who was now bathing himself and ignoring Alex altogether. "I'm not going to touch her. I'm going to be a professional, and by the time this book is finished she'll be out of my system completely!"

There was a knock at the door, startling Alex out of his temper. Checking to make sure nothing was going to burn in his absence, he walked to the front door and looked through the peephole.

"Devon," he said as he swung the door open. "What are you doing here?"

Devon Whitcomb, a blond haired, blue eyed pretty boy, brushed past Alex, tossing his suit jacket on the back of the couch. "Checking up on you, buddy," he replied, taking a seat and propping his feet on the coffee table. "How is the new assistant working out?"

Alex regarded his agent and wondered for the millionth time why he kept him around. Devon was good at what he did; he was one of the main reasons Alex was so popular and successful. 

But sometimes he could be an ass, and right now was one of those times.

"Barge right in, why don't you," Alex said, slamming the front door closed in a huff. 

"Smells good, Grant," Devon said, sniffing the air and clasping his hands behind his head. "What are you making us for dinner?"

Alex rolled his eyes. "Who said this was a date?" he retorted, making his way back into the kitchen. 

Devon laughed heartily, flashing his severely whitened teeth. His rich voice carried throughout the loft. "Don't tell me someone's edged me out of your heart already," he said, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees. 

Holly chose that moment to walk out of the bathroom, clad only in a big white towel.

"Alex, this is a silly question, but do you happen to have a blow dry..."

The words died in her throat as she spied Devon on the couch. Looking mortified, she clasped the towel more tightly around herself and began to back up slowly. "Oh, sorry," she stammered.

"Holly Sullivan, how nice to see you," Devon drawled as he gave her the once over, his face registering his approval. "I wasn't aware I hired you as a live-in assistant."

Alex, caught up in his own appraisal of Holly in a towel, was jerked out of his reverie by the comment. "Devon, can I have a word with you?" he asked, gesturing toward the balcony.

Holly, thankful for an out, gimped her way back into the bedroom, her face a shade of red that very nearly matched her hair color.

"Sure thing, Grant," Devon said, craning his neck in an obvious attempt to check out Holly's backside. 

"Now," Alex barked, waiting at the sliding door for Devon to join him.

*

Holly shut the bathroom door, horrified at what had just transpired. What were you thinking, traipsing out there in just a towel? she thought.

Actually, what she'd been thinking was that she would like to see the look on Alex's face when he saw her in just a towel. "But that backfired, didn't it," she muttered to herself.

A small part of her had been hoping Alex would be swept up in how sexy she looked, and perhaps be inspired to kiss her again; now she was not only unkissed, but humiliated, as well. Looking at her reflection in the lightly fogged mirror, she shook her head at the sight she made. Her auburn hair was a wet, tangled mess, and her skin was pink from the steam of the shower. Her eyes still looked swollen from crying, and her lip was a bit raw from where she'd chewed on it earlier.

Sexy? Try silly, she thought harshly. 

Tears of shame stung her eyes, and as she dried her hair and put on the clean clothes she swore that this was the last time she was going to make a fool out of herself in front of Alexander Grant.

*

"You're a jerk, you know that, Devon?"

Alex was livid. He was not only embarrassed for himself, but for Holly, as well. But as angry as he was, he couldn't get the image of her in that blasted white towel out of his head. She'd looked so beautiful, so alluring.

So threatening to his resolve.

"What?" Devon said, holding up his hands innocently. "You can't blame a man for appreciating a good-looking woman, Alex."

"You couldn't see how uncomfortable you made the poor girl?" Alex spat, pacing back and forth on the balcony. The sun had just set, and the twinkling lights below made a lovely sight. Alex, however, was oblivious, his thoughts focused on Holly.

"Holly?" Devon said, raising his eyebrow and looking at Alex quizzically. "Or you?"

Alex stopped, jerking his head up to meet Devon's interested gaze. "Me?" he asked, incredulous. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Devon chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I think the one who's most uncomfortable here is you, pal," he said. "I think you, dare I say it, like her."

Alex burst into laughter, shaking his head vehemently at the man's accusation. "No, no, no," he said, leaning against the railing. "You couldn't be more wrong, Devon."

"Am I?" Devon asked. "Then why did you get so upset by what happened just now?"

"Because!" Alex answered brusquely. "You were all but leering at her, and she was mortified as it is!"

Devon shrugged. "Suit yourself, Alex." He walked back into the loft, picked his jacket up off the couch and then went to the front door. "You can only remain in denial for so long," he said, winking at Alex before the door clicked shut.

Alex sighed, resting his head against the cool glass of the sliding door. Devon's words had irritated him: as much as he wanted to believe that it was because they were untrue, he knew that the reason he was so agitated was because they weren't.

Murray meowed loudly, as if calling Alex to finish with the cooking. No longer hungry, Alex marched into the kitchen and tossed what he'd been preparing into the trash can.

The bathroom door opened, and Holly walked carefully into the living room. Seeing Alex cleaning up the mess he'd made while making dinner, she asked, "Is the pasta ready, then?"

"No," Alex replied gruffly. "I've decided that you can have peanut butter and jelly instead." 

"Oh," Holly said, taken aback by Alex's sudden change in temperament. She observed silently as Alex wrenched the bread from the pantry and set the necessary condiments down rather loudly on the countertop. 

"You needn't bother," she intervened as Alex was about to murder a slice of bread with a butter knife and jelly. "I can do it myself."

"Fine," Alex said, throwing down the knife and going to the sink to wash his hands. 

"Where did Devon go?" Holly asked hesitantly, seeing no sign of him. "Is he gone?"

Alex whipped around to look at her, a black look marring the handsome features of his face. "Yes, he's gone," he snapped. "And now it seems my appetite's gone, too." 

Holly stood agape as he brushed past her, stalking off toward his bedroom. He paused in the doorway, saying quietly, "You will stay in the guest room. I already made up the bed for you." Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "Sleep well."

With that, he slammed the door and turned the lock, shutting Holly out for the night.

*

Alex hadn't slept well.

The next morning he was bleary-eyed and grumpy, cursing under his breath and wishing he could just stay in bed all day. Feeling a bit guilty for taking out his frustrations on Holly the night before, he'd made up his mind to make her breakfast in an attempt at an apology. 

Seeing as he didn't have any cereal, pancake mix or even eggs, he became even more cranky when he realized he'd actually have to apologize with words. 

"G'morning," Holly said, startling Alex as he stirred cream into his coffee. She shuffled into the kitchen, wincing at the pain in her hip and wiping sleep out of her eyes.

"You look cute when you do that." The words were out of his mouth before he'd had time to think about them. Alex held his breath as Holly's eyes shot open, the look of sleep quickly replaced by one of surprise.

"I do?" she asked. 

"Er, yeah," Alex said, clenching and unclenching his jaw nervously. "You do. And by the way... I'm really sorry about last night."

Holly didn't say anything at first, leaving Alex to wonder if she'd either entirely forgotten about it or was about to bust his balls. 

Fortunately, neither was the case. "That's alright," she said, moving around him to fix her own cup of coffee. "Neither of us was in a very good mood, I guess."

Alex sighed, relieved that she'd decided to move past it. "Yeah," he said, taking a mug down from the cabinet for her when he noticed she was struggling to reach it. "I think, to be on the safe side, you should try to avoid wearing towels in front of guests, if at all possible."

Holly gasped, looking appalled. She relaxed a little as she recognized the teasing glint in Alex's eyes. "Oh, right," she said, smiling weakly. "Sure thing."

"So," Alex began, hopping up on the counter and taking a swig of his coffee. "Ready to tackle that apartment of yours?"

Holly groaned, the prospect of packing and moving many boxes seeming daunting to her. 

"Is that a yes?" Alex taunted, smiling at her over his cup. 

"I hate moving," Holly said, measuring out some sugar. "I've moved four times in the last three years."

"Oh?" Alex asked, surprised by this bit of information. "Why is that, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Unsteady income," Holly answered. "I've had to bounce around from place to place, looking for cheaper rent."

"I see," Alex said, frowning a little.

"What?" Holly asked, irked by his response.

"Nothing," Alex replied, taking another sip of his coffee. "It's just that I don't know what that's like, having to move around a lot."

"I wouldn't recommend it," Holly grumbled, feeling her mood darken at the thought of it.

Alex, seeing that this wasn't the best subject to discuss this early in the morning, decided to switch topics. "Why don't we stop by and check on your bike before we head to your place?" he asked, hoping to cheer her up some.

Holly's eyes immediately lit up. "I'd like that," she said, smiling slightly. "Even if it's all beat up, I still want to see it."

"Alright, then," Alex said, jumping off the counter and tossing the contents of his mug into the sink. 

"Wait," Holly said. "What about your book? When are we going to work on it?"

"Oh, we've got plenty of time for that this evening," Alex said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Last one dressed is a rotten egg!" And with that he jogged into his bedroom.

"Cheater," Holly muttered, setting her unfinished coffee down on the counter and limping into the guest room. "Who in the world tries to race a gimp?"

*

Holly was not in a good mood as she sullenly threw some clothes into a suitcase. The trip to the repair shop had been painful; her bike, her treasured Harley, was scratched and dented, the paint scraped off in several places.

"The damages'll probably run you upwards of three thousand dollars," the repairman had told her, and Holly had fought a hard battle to maintain her composure. 

"I don't know why you still refuse to let me pay for it."

Alex was in the corner of her bedroom, unscrewing her computer desk in order to make it easier to transport. 

"It wouldn't feel right," Holly argued, zipping up the suitcase and moving to clean out the rest of her closet.

"I don't follow your logic," Alex groused, throwing the screwdriver back into the toolbox that he had brought along. "It's my fault that it's in the shop to begin with."

Holly sighed, closing her eyes against the headache that was beginning to form at the back of her head. Her hip was flaring up again; she'd forgotten to take an aspirin before they'd left the loft that morning.

"Are you okay?" Alex asked, concern evident in his tone. 

Holly nodded, ignoring the dull throb the motion caused. "Yeah, I'll be alright," she said, hoping he'd let it lie.

She was wrong. Alex stood up and walked over to her, taking the wooden box she'd just retrieved from the top shelf of the closet out of her hands. "Yeah, right," he said, pointing over to the bed. "Sit down, I'll finish emptying out the closet."

"I have to help you," Holly protested. "The movers will be here at eleven, that only gives us an hour..."




Hog Wild Ch. 03



"Hush," Alex said, pressing his finger against her lips. "Trust me, this will go a lot faster if I do the majority of it." He nudged her toward the bed, adding wryly, "I may be an old man, but I'm not the one having problems here."

Holly snorted, taking a seat on the bed and rubbing her hip lightly. "Sure, Pops," she said, smiling when she saw him grimace at the nickname. "Whatever you say."

She closed her eyes again, listening to Alex root around in her closet. She heard him throwing things into a cardboard box, and her muscles began to relax as took a much needed rest.

"Are these your parents?"

Her muscles tightened again. Her eyes shooting open, Holly saw that Alex was holding up a framed photograph, looking at her questioningly. 

"Yes," she said, pushing herself off the bed and limping toward him. "And quit snooping," she snapped, snatching the picture out of his hand.

"I'm not snooping," Alex replied, annoyed at her sudden change in demeanor. "It was lying on the floor, in plain sight. What's the big deal?"

Holly was staring at the photo; she hadn't known it had been in the closet. "I've been looking for this for months," she said quietly, running her fingers along the glass of the frame.

The picture was fifteen years old. Holly, seven at the time, was sitting behind her father on the Harley, her tiny hands resting on his shoulders as they both smiled hugely into the camera. Her mother was in front of the bike, leaning over the handlebars and kissing her husband on the cheek. They all looked so happy. Holly hurriedly swiped at the tears that had come to her eyes, but Alex had already noticed.

"Hey," he said softly, reaching up to brush her hair out of her face. "What's wrong?"

Holly shook her head, handing the picture back to him. "My parents are dead."

Alex let out a whoosh of breath, looking with renewed interest at the photo. "Wow," he said. "I'm so sorry, Holly."

Holly sighed. "They were killed in a car accident when I was sixteen," she said, not knowing why she was divulging this information to him. 

Alex looked at her, his expression unreadable. "So that's why you're so attached to that bike of yours," he said, like he'd had an epiphany.

"Yeah," Holly confirmed, swallowing against the lump in her throat. 

"So what have you been doing these last six years?" Alex asked. "Who took care of you?"

"I have aunts and uncles," Holly said, clasping her hands nervously. "I took turns living with each of them. I've moved around a lot these last six years."

"Ah," Alex said, looking at the picture again. He seemed satisfied with the information she had told him, but for some reason she wanted to tell him more. 

"I moved here four years ago, to go to college," she said, causing him to meet her gaze again. "I put myself through school, but as you've probably guessed it's been a bitch trying to make a stable life for myself."

Alex nodded, gently placing the picture on top of the pile in the box. "You look like your mom," he said, looking her straight in the eye. "You're both beautiful."

Holly blushed, averting her eyes to the floor. "Thank you," she whispered, feeling a flood of warmth run through her.

Before she could register what was happening, Alex nudged her face upwards and placed his lips tenderly upon hers. It was a sweet kiss, very unlike the first one they had shared. 

And then just as quickly as it had started, it was over. Alex stepped away from her, his breathing a bit more labored and his hair askew. 

Holly raised a hand to her lips, feeling how warm they were. "What was that for?" she asked, confused.

Alex smiled. "I don't know," he replied. "I just felt like doing it."

Holly grinned timidly, self-conscious now that he had kissed her. "Okay," she said, looking at the mess that was still her closet. "I guess I'll finish up here, you can go pack up the kitchen."

Alex headed for the door, his fingers brushing against the back of her hand as he moved past her. Holly restrained a shiver as she felt an electric-like current shoot up her arm. 

"You're a muse, my dear," Alex called over his shoulder, grabbing another cardboard box from the living room as he disappeared from sight into the kitchen.

Puzzling a moment over his cryptic words, Holly shrugged and went back to packing with renewed energy.



Hog Wild Ch. 04



"You want to what?"

Holly was incredulous. She was exhausted from a full morning of packing, and now that the movers had transported all her things into a storage facility, she was just settling down in the guest room of Alex's loft when he sprang the idea of using her life story as the plot line of his next book.

"I wouldn't use your exact life story, of course," Alex said, taking a seat on the bed and watching Holly fold clothes and place them in the dresser. "And I'd change all the names and the locations, and you wouldn't have to worry about anyone connecting the book to you."

Holly sighed, unable to believe she was hearing him correctly. "That doesn't matter," she snapped, slamming shut the bottom drawer and pushing herself off the floor. She shook her head at Alex's offer to help her stand. "I would still feel ridiculously exposed, and I don't want my life used as creative fodder just to be put out there for the whole world to judge!"

Alex frowned in exasperation, his patience wearing thin. He tried not to let his frustration show, however; he was learning from experience that fighting with Holly was not the best way to get what he wanted. 

He also tried not to let how attractive Holly looked when she was angry distract him from the argument he was trying to make.

"Holly," he began, settling his face into a look of calm and collectedness. "First of all, no one would judge you. How could they," he said loudly, interrupting her as she opened her mouth to retort. "You've done nothing wrong, and if anything they'd be moved by what you've had to go through."

Holly closed her mouth, her lips forming a straight line. Her headache was returning; Alex was being stubborn. Well, I can be stubborn too, she thought, her chin lifting defiantly. "Like I've said, Alex, none of that matters to me." She turned from him and sifted through her suitcase, pretending to be looking for something. "It would be way too personal, and I don't want to have to relive those experiences just so you can have another best seller under your belt."

Alex bit back the sharp retort that sprang to his lips. He tried to be understanding; thinking about it, he realized that he, too, would feel bit violated if someone wanted to exploit his life just to make quick buck. 

"I agree with you," he said, catching Holly off guard. She spun around to look at him. "You do?" she asked disbelievingly. 

"Yeah," Alex said, running a hand through his hair. "And I want you to know, honestly, that I could care less if the book's a hit or not. I just think you have a story worth telling."

Holly cocked her head, staring at Alex as if she were just seeing him for the first time. He seemed so sincere; and so far he didn't seem like the type who would lie to her. If anything, he was usually as blunt as a battle axe. 

"So what's in it for me, then?" she asked. This time it was Alex's turn to look surprised. He hadn't expected her to change her tune so quickly.

"Well," he said, clasping his hands behind his back and pacing next to the bed. "How about this: in exchange for letting me use you as the inspiration for my novel, I pay for the repairs to your bike?"

Holly shook her head vehemently. "Nope, nothing doing," she said, going back to rummaging through the suitcase.

Alex groaned. "Come on, Holly," he wheedled, walking over to her and turning her to face him. "This way it would be a fair exchange, and not me just doing you a favor out of pity." He paused. "Which wasn't the case anyway, but I will never be able to understand where you were coming from on that one," he added. 

Holly stared at him, not saying anything as her mind raced. Alex looked hopeful. And, to be honest, it did seem like a square deal -- she'd be giving him something in return. 

"You know that if you don't tell them something in the next day or two, they'll just scrap it altogether," Alex said. "Please, Holly," he continued quietly, taking her hands in his and squeezing them. "If you say no, I'll drop it. But please, don't say no."

Holly met his eyes. They were a stormy gray, and he returned her stare so intensely that she found it hard to look away. "Alright," she murmured, finally closing her eyes to break the eye contact. "I'll do it."

Alex smiled hugely, throwing his arms around her. "Thank you!" he breathed into her ear, sending shivers down her spine. His embrace was warm and gentle as he cradled her against his broad chest. Holly felt herself flush as she remained in his arms, realizing that she didn't really want him to let her go.

Alex stared down at the top of Holly's auburn head, feeling his heart speed up and his muscles tense as he continued to hold her. Something else tensed, too, and clearing his throat he finally wrenched himself away from her before she could detect that he had enjoyed the hug a lot more than he was willing to admit.

"Well," he said, rubbing the back of his neck and backing out of the room slowly. "I'll just let you finish unpacking. I'll be in the living room." 

He turned and walked out. Holly was left to catch her breath as tingling sensations ran throughout her body. "Why can't I just tell that man 'no'?" she asked herself, shaking her head and sitting down gingerly on the bed. 

She suspected it had something to do with the way he looked at her. Yes, she thought. That has to be it.

*

After she had changed into a comfortable sweatshirt and shorts, Holly limped into the living room. She saw Alex sitting on the couch, a legal pad perched on his knees and a steaming cup of coffee resting on the table.

"Did you take an aspirin?" he called over his shoulder, not even looking at her. Holly stuck her tongue out at the back of his head before saying, "I was just going to." She moved into the kitchen, taking the aspirin bottle out of a cabinet and going to the refrigerator for a bottle of water.

Alex stifled a moan at the sight of Holly's long, alabaster legs. They were shapely and beautiful; the only thing detracting from their loveliness was the ugly bruise that peeking out from underneath the hem of her shorts. He winced at the sight of it, a pang of guilt running through him at the knowledge that he had been the cause of it.

He looked away quickly as Holly came toward the couch. She settled down next to him, carefully propping her legs up on the coffee table. Alex swallowed nervously as he watched her stretch out. Stop it, Grant, his mind warned him. Time for work, never time for play.

"So, what are we going to do first?" Holly asked, regarding Alex with curiosity. "I've never been someone's muse before, so you'll have to give me some direction."

Alex nodded, looking down at the writing pad in his lap and drumming the pen against it. "Right," he said, trying to force his thoughts back onto the task at hand and away from Holly's legs. "Well, uh, I guess you could start assisting me by answering a few questions." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "You know, to get me started."

Holly leaned back against the couch cushions, looking apprehensive. "What is it you want to know?" she asked. 

"I guess, for starters, when and where you were born," Alex replied, also sitting back and trying to make himself comfortable. His pen hovered above the paper as he stared at her, waiting for her answer.

Holly felt strange under his scrutiny. She'd never been one to enjoy the spotlight, and here she was, being interviewed so her life could be placed under a microscope.

"I was born on April 22, 1985 in Fairfield, New Jersey," she began, trying to calm her nerves. "My parents were Richard and Annie Sullivan, and I was an only child."

Alex dutifully recorded this information. "Please, continue," he said, looking up at her expectantly.

Taking a deep breath, Holly went on. "I had a happy life for the first sixteen years," she said, a dreamy smile coming across her face as she recalled her childhood. "My parents were devoted to each other, and they both loved me. And I loved them, too." 

Her eyes closed as her mind drifted back. "My dad used to take me for rides on his Harley," she said. "Those were some of the best times I can remember." 

Alex scrawled on the pad, nodding absentmindedly. "So you were a daddy's girl?" he asked. 

Holly nodded. "Very much so," she said wistfully. "I mean, I adored both my parents, but my dad and I had a special bond."

"So you said you were sixteen when you lost them," Alex said quietly, looking at Holly cautiously. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Holly frowned, a lump coming to her throat. "I was at school," she murmured, staring at her hands. "Algebra. The principal came to pull me out of class." She felt tears sting her eyes; it was as if it had all happened yesterday. "We stood in the hallway and he told me my parents had been killed in a head-on collision." 

Alex's heart hammered as he listened to the pain in Holly's voice. "I'm so sorry," he said softly, unable to conceal his own emotion. 

Holly shook her head. "I was numb for the next week or so," she continued. "I went to live with my Aunt Mindy, and I stayed with her for a year." She swiped hurriedly at her eyes, not wanting to fall apart in front of Alex. "Then I went to stay with my Uncle Vincent, and then I lived with my Aunt Carole until I graduated from high school."

"And you went on to college," Alex said, ignoring the fact that his coffee was growing cold.

"Yeah," Holly affirmed. "I chose to come here, to New York, because it was far away while still being close to home. If that makes any sense," she added, smirking a little.

Alex nodded. "It does," he said. "Did you have to pay for everything yourself?"

Holly sighed. "My relatives had their own children to take care of," she said, staring off into space. "They gave me a bit of pocket money, but I was mostly on my own. I've had just about every job you can think of trying to pay my way through school."

Alex felt a surge of pity and immediately upbraided himself for it. "You're obviously a strong woman," he said, admiration for her catching him by surprise.

Holly shrugged. "I did what I had to do," she said. 

They were both silent for a moment. Then Alex asked, "Are you alone here, in New York?"

"Not really," Holly answered. "I have some friends, and my best friend Andrea..."

Her voice drifted off as she shot up suddenly. "Oh God, Andrea!" she cried, looking around the loft frantically. "She's probably worried sick about me, I haven't talked to her in two days!"

Alex stood up as well, concerned about how upset Holly was getting and afraid that she would aggravate her hip. "Sit down," he said sternly. 

"Where's your phone?" Holly asked, ignoring the order. Alex frowned, walking over to his desk and picking up the cordless phone. "Here," he said as he handed it to her, feeling irritated as he watched her dial.

Holly's heart was thudding. Andrea Jamison was her best friend in the entire world; they had met when both girls had waitressed at a restaurant not far from the university. Holly thought of Andrea has a sister, and she knew her friend would not be happy with her for the lack of contact.

"Hello?" she heard Andrea say on other end of the line.

"Andie, it's me," Holly said, bracing herself for the response.

She had been right. Andrea was not happy.

"Where the hell have you been?" Andrea fairly shouted. "I've tried calling you, but the operator said your number was disconnected!"

Holly sighed. "I'm so sorry, Andie," she said, turning away from Alex's annoyed glare. "Several things have happened..."

As briefly as possible Holly filled Andrea in on the last two days' events. By the time she was finished, Andrea was so quiet Holly wondered if she'd been hung up on.

"You still there, Andie?" she asked.

"Yes, Hol, I'm still here," Andrea replied, the anger gone from her tone. "Are you alright?"

Holly breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah, it's just my hip that's hurt, and it'll be healed in no time."

"And you're staying with... what's his name? Alex?"

"Yeah," Holly said.

"And how long have I been trying to get you to come stay with me and my family?"

Holly's stomach dropped. So Andrea was still angry. "I know, Andie, I know, but..."

"This Alex guy has got to be a hottie if you can say yes to him but no to your own best friend."

Holly's eyebrows raised. "What?"

Andrea laughed. "Relax, Hol," she said, and Holly exhaled loudly. "I'm just messing with you. I'm really glad to finally hear from you, and I'm super glad to know you're being taken care of."

Holly smiled. "Thanks, Andie," she said. "And I'm sorry I didn't get in touch sooner. I've just had so much going on."

"That's cool," Andrea replied. "So what's the address? I'm coming to see you."

"Tonight?" Holly asked, casting a glance at Alex and noticing his frown had turned into a full-on glower. "Um, I don't know if that's a good idea, Andie. I'm working."

"Okay, fine," Andrea said, nonplussed. "I'll come tomorrow. Now give me the address."

Holly complied, and wishing Andrea a good night she hung up the phone and walked over to hand it to Alex. "Thanks for letting me use it," she muttered, not knowing why Alex appeared to be so upset with her.

He snatched it out of her hand and placed it rather harshly back in its cradle. "You're welcome," he ground out, not moving from his spot. He folded his arms and glared down at her.

Holly's temper flared. "What's your problem?" she snapped, her own arms folding across her chest.

"You never listen to me," Alex retorted, sounding for all the world like a disgruntled child. 

"What the hell are you talking about?" Holly asked, placing her hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes at him.

"I told you to sit down, and you didn't listen," Alex said, mirroring her actions by placing his hands on his hips as well. His eyes were so dark as to be almost black, his ire making him look so menacing that he could easily intimidate anyone.

Anyone, that is, except for Holly.

"Do you realize how ridiculous you sound?" she spat, feeling as though she'd like to smack him one just to make him see reason. "Who made you the boss of me?"

Alex clenched his jaw, a look of utter distaste crossing his face as he stared down at her. "I was trying to look out for you," he growled. "I was worried that you'd make your hip worse! But I guess the fact that I cared about it doesn't matter worth a damn to you, does it?"

Holly's reserve shattered. "You pompous asshole," she countered, punching him in the arm. She then wheeled around and stalked away from him, cringing at the stabbing pain in her hip as she strode into the guest room and slammed the door.

His words had hurt her; he made it seem as though she were ungrateful for his help. That wasn't the case at all -- she just didn't like being told what to do, especially if the words came in the form of commands.

Holly grew even angrier when she realized she was crying. Don't be stupid, she chastised herself. If you let him make you cry, that means he's won.

Wiping her face, Holly pulled her suitcase out from under the bed. "Fuck him," she mumbled, opening the dresser drawers and beginning to repack her belongings. "I'm going to stay with Andie."

Alex may have been a "hottie", but that wasn't enough to make up for his being a jerk.

*

Alex was rubbing his arm where Holly had hit him. The action had yanked him out of his tantrum, and he'd been unable to say anything as he'd watched Holly stomp away from him. 

You're a complete idiot, the voice in his head said mockingly. 

Alex felt like banging his head against a wall. He knew he was being childish; in truth, he didn't know what had made him lose his temper like that. What the hell am I doing? he wondered. I'm being such an ass to her, and she doesn't deserve it.

Knowing what he had to do, he marched toward the guest room and lifted his hand to knock. He hesitated, knowing full well that she was going to be hell to deal with. And rightly so, he reminded himself. Deciding it was time to bite the bullet, he finally rapped his knuckles against the door.

"Go away," Holly shouted. 

"Please, I need to talk to you," Alex said, resting his forehead against the cool wooden doorway. 

There was silence. For a minute Alex thought she was going to ignore him. Just as he was about to turn away in dejection, the door opened a fraction of an inch.

Pushing it open the rest of the way, Alex peered into the room to see Holly throwing things back into her suitcase. "What are you doing?" he asked, taken aback at the sight.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Holly asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm getting the hell out of here."

Alex's mouth dropped open. "Are you serious?" he said. 

Holly whirled around. "You bet your ass I'm serious," she replied, her lips practically spitting venom. "I'm not going to stick around just to be your whipping post."

She went back to packing. Alex watched her hobble back and forth between the dresser and the suitcase, at a loss for words to say. You're a writer, his inner voice cried in disgust. Words are supposed to be your fortė.

"Don't go," he murmured softly.

Holly stopped what she was doing, her back stiffening. "What did you say?" she asked, not turning around to look at him. She felt a sense of dėja vu; he'd asked the same thing of her the first day they'd met.

"I want you to stay," Alex said, a little more loudly. "Don't go."

Holly leaned against the dresser, her shoulders sagging as she lowered her head. For some reason she felt like crying again; she was bone tired, and she just didn't know if she could take anymore fighting with Alex.

Alex moved into the room, his stomach turning as he watched the anger drain from Holly's body only to be replaced by defeat. He hated putting her through this; he hated seeing her suffer simply because he seemed to no longer be capable of decent human interaction.

"I don't get you, Alex."

Holly's words cut through him. He regarded her with trepidation as she turned from the dresser and moved closer to him. "I don't know what makes you tick. I don't know what makes you angry. I don't know a damn thing about why you're the way you are." 

She came to a stop in front of him. "I think that, if I'm going to stay," she said quietly, "it's only fair that you let me get to know you, just like you're getting to know me."

Alex nodded, not knowing what to say. Holly looked so vulnerable: her eyes were tired, and there were dark circles beneath them. She was trembling faintly, only noticeable because she was so close to him. 

Overwhelmed by the need to kiss her, Alex bent his head and did just that.

Holly jumped. She hadn't been expecting a kiss. It crossed her mind for a split second that she shouldn't let him kiss her.

But then his tongue swept over her lips, and all thoughts were in turn swept from her head.

Her arms came up to wrap around his neck, her fingers threading through his ink black hair as she opened her mouth to accept his kiss more readily. She swallowed his groan as he brought his hands to her waist, pulling her against him tightly. Holly ignored the sting in her hip as she felt her desire pool between her thighs. She moaned as she thrust her tongue into Alex's mouth.

Alex was on fire. His hands were wild as they roamed over Holly's body, over her ribcage and to the undersides of her breasts. They were soft to the touch, and Holly's whimper of satisfaction was muffled by Alex's fevered kisses. He began to move her toward the bed, feeling his heart jump when she didn't protest. 

They went down together, Alex on top of Holly and nestled between her thighs. He brought his left hand down to her leg, groaning gutturally as he learned they were as silky and smooth as he'd thought they would be. In response Holly's legs spread apart more widely, her pelvis rising off the bed just slightly to grind into Alex's crotch.




Hog Wild Ch. 04



Feeling more bold, Alex used his other hand to slowly push up underneath Holly's sweatshirt. Holly hissed with pleasure, encouraging Alex's journey. His hand snaked over her stomach, a finger dipping into her navel briefly before traveling up toward her heaving chest. Alex was delighted to realize Holly wasn't wearing a bra.

As his hand made contact with a very hard nipple, both Alex and Holly groaned at the sensation. Alex's cock was throbbing in his pants, begging to be thrust into the heat of the writhing woman beneath him. But he fought for control; he didn't want to do anything Holly wasn't ready for. 

As if reading his mind, Holly's eyes shot open and she broke the kiss. "Alex," she breathed, her face flushed with passion.

"Yes?" Alex said, his fingers still firmly clamped around a nipple.

"Don't you think we'd better stop?" Holly murmured, a blush turning her face an even deeper shade of red.

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Do you think we should?" he asked.

Holly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her heart was racing; she could barely gather her thoughts. "Yeah, I think we should," she finally said shakily, opening her olive eyes to meet Alex's heather gray ones.

Alex felt a twinge of disappointment, though he didn't let it show on his face. Though he wanted desperately to continue with what they had been doing, he didn't want to scare Holly off by pushing the issue. Instead he nodded, removing his hand from underneath her sweatshirt and pushing himself off of her. Standing beside the bed, he held out a hand, silently offering to help her up.

Holly placed her hand in his, trying to ignore the fact that Alex was sporting an obvious tent. Standing and straightening her clothing, she shook her hair out of her face and put on a brave smile. "Shall we get back to work?"

"Sure," Alex said, returning her smile. Then, leaning forward and depositing a kiss on the top of her head, he whispered, "Just know that I'll have a hard time concentrating, because my mind will be on other things."

Turning a brilliant shade of vermilion and silently cursing her fair skin, Holly bit back a giggle. "Maybe if you can get something done, I'll think of a way to reward you," she said coyly, brushing past Alex and walking out of the bedroom.

A wolfish gleam in his eyes, Alex followed close behind, eager more than ever now to get back to writing his book.

*

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading me. I don't know when the next chapter will be up; I'll be moving in the next few days, though I promise to try and keep up with my writing so I can continue this story as soon as possible. In the meantime, I hope you've enjoyed this installment, and as always, all votes and feedback are welcome and appreciated.