Petals and Chrome: A Biker Erotic Romance (Flowers of Hell MC) Read Online Free PDF Page A

crushed cans of beer, smashed bottles, stubbed out cigar and cigarette ends, over flowing ashtrays, and, of course, more motorcycle parts.  
    “Nice place,” I murmured to myself.  
    “You’d better sleep in there,” D said, nodding towards the door at the very far end of the large room. “That’s my room. You can sleep in my bed tonight, and I’ll take the floor …”  
    He could see my eye had strayed to the beaten up couch in the corner.  
    “You’d better not stay out here,” he said sternly. “You don’t want to know what those other guys might do to you, if I leave you alone with them …”  
    “I think I can guess,” I said, thinking once again about that trucker back at the roadhouse.  
    “Yeah,” I guess you’ve already had a taste of that this evening,” he said. “Oh … sorry … I didn’t mean it quite like that …” he stammered, when he realized what he’d said might have been a little blunt.
    “No, it’s okay. Thanks again,” I smiled. “For everything.”
    Before we went into his room, he found me a dirty glass and filled it with cold water from the sink. I swilled out my mouth, glad to finally be free of the horrible bloody taste, spitting and swilling over and over again, and then gulping down great mouthfuls of water.  
    “Come on, you’d better get inside now,” he said, softly.  
    He held open the door to his room and I followed him in. It was a little cleaner than the main living quarters, but still kind of a dump. It smelled sweaty and musty and what he referred to as his ‘bed’ was in fact just a dirty old mattress with a sleeping bag strewn on it. I noted the scattering of coffee cups and empty bottles of Jack and the overflowing ashtray and, poking out from underneath the corner of the mattress, a well-thumbed porno magazine.  
    “Get some rest,” he said, then turned and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.  
    A moment later, I heard the main door to the shack burst open and then then loud hum of many different voices; shouting, cursing, even some laughter. After a while the hubbub died down to a general low hum, and I figured that D’s shack must double as some kind of unofficial club-house for their motorcycle gang; for all those biker dudes with the flowers painted on their jackets and tattooed emblazoned on their forearms.  
    I slipped off D’s jacket, unlaced my trainers, and stepped out of the leather chaps. Shivering in the cold night air, I quickly padded over to the mattress, stepping around a few empty beer cans, and quickly wriggled myself snug inside the sleeping bag.  
    Wow, never had I been so thankful for a dirty old sleeping bag as I was right there and then!  
    My head was still buzzing and swirling with the excitement and unreality of what had just happened to me — it was like something from a movie — and I just couldn’t quite take it all in, no matter how much I thought about it.  
    As I curled myself up into a ball, savoring the warmth and the manly musk of D’s sleeping bag, I listened to the deep murmur of voices emanating from the other room and before I knew it, I’d slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.  

Chapter Six

    I was woken a few hours later, and for a moment didn’t know where I was. Then it all came back to me in a flash; the argument with James, the humiliating scene at the roadhouse, the cold air on my skin, the flower of blood spreading in that filthy trucker’s groin, and then this: sleeping here on this dirty mattress in a complete stranger’s shack.  
    As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I found I could make out D as he padded carefully into the room, obviously trying not to wake me. The heady scent of cigarettes and booze clung to him in a fog as he made his way past me and through another small door at the other side of the room; one I hadn’t noticed before.  
    After a few seconds, I heard the rattle and hiss of an old shower.  
    It seemed weird to me then, that someone