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Santa and his Hot Biker Elf

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He doesn’t remember sleeping with her, but he can order her to wear a sexy costume and ride Bitch with Santa?
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Author: Serella Mist
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Santa and his Hot Biker Elf

by Serella Mist

Genre  Erotic Romance

Tags  Biker, Biker bar, Santa, Elf, Motorcycles, Poker Run, MC, Motorcycle Club

Release  December 16, 2014

Editor  Lea Schizas

Cover Designer  Kaytalin Platt

Words  9329

Pages  40

ISBN  978-1-77127-629-0

Price  $2.50


Back Cover

Honey has finally found somewhere that feels like home in a biker bar in Eugene, Oregon. Her biker boss passes away. In a moment of weakness after his funeral she sleeps with his nephew. Gunner disappears back with the military. Months later he shows to take over the bar. Honey becomes antagonistic when she finds Gunner with seemingly no knowledge of their night together. She pretends ignoring him works, until she receives a text telling her she will represent the bar that will sponsor the Memorial Poker Run for his uncle. Oh, and he will pick her costume to ride bitch with a surprise Santa.


Excerpt

New Message:

Honey, Re: Upcoming Poker Run. The bar needs a representative to ride in the Run. I need you to ride bitch with Santa. Will provide outfit. Gunner.

            Honey growled and slammed her phone on the bar. Not only did he not ask her, he informed via text message after the bar closed on a busier than expected night with inventory. The absolute worst of all was that he told her she was riding bitch. Honey despised that derogatory terminology.

            She worked alone in the bar, finishing inventory to complete ordering the week’s supplies. After an hour on autopilot, it finally dawned that Gunner said he was providing her an outfit to ride bitch with someone dressed in a Santa costume during a charity Poker Run for bikers. Oh my God!

            Gunner was not the person to trust for clothing choices. He had inherited The Kick Stand, a mostly biker bar and diner, from his Uncle Sticks. The only son of his biker parents and his pool shark uncle, the military had become his normality.

Chapter One

 

The first time Honey saw Gunner was at Sticks’ funeral. Good Gravy! Six foot three, dark and gorgeous! I almost melted after engaging in the briefest of eye contact with the most vibrant green/hazel eyes. Who could forget that form in his dress uniform? That was better than chocolate frosting on a favorite cupcake.

            Some of the bikers came back by the bar afterward to pay their respects. Gunner was so polite, as though he had never been a part of that world. Well, he hadn’t as an adult. He had grown up in it from childhood through adolescence, but his adulthood was spent as a Ranger. All evening, Gunner and Honey kept tabs on where each other were. It was subtle flirting that had Honey smiling despite the circumstances. After some people began to ebb out the door, Gunner found Honey talking to a few newer members of the local motorcycle club his parents belonged to, The Howling Coyotes.

He came up from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist. When the conversation paused, he bent down and whispered, “Let’s go.”

Honey felt as though all of this was happening to someone else. Always considered a geek, right down to the requisite glasses. Average height at five foot five and a little on the slim side since she was single and rarely ate full meals. Thick hips and thighs with impressive C cups helped the tips at the bar. Honey had been told her unusual hair, ranging from a honey color through a rich molasses was attractive, but not many could get past those glasses to see such a striking pair of emerald eyes.

At that moment, none of that seemed to bother Gunner. She said her goodbyes and Honey made sure that Charlie, who had been a cook for The Kick Stand for many years, could shut the bar down when the last of the crowd left.

Gunner directed her to the back and up the stairs. “I think there is still an apartment up here.” He said more just to put her at ease than to really make conversation.

“Yes, that would be where I have lived for the past year.”

Her statement barely registered with Gunner. That is when she realized that Gunner wasn’t just mourning his uncle’s passing, but was shit-faced drunk. He had hid it fairly well in front of grieving family and friends that he had not seen since he had enlisted.

Honey wasn’t sure what to do next. Once they passed the office, Gunner took the indecision away by taking the keys and unlocking the interior door to the apartment.

He opened the door with a hand on the small of her back giving just enough pressure to prompt her forward into the kitchen.

When the door closed behind him, Gunner lifted and turned so her back was against it and kissed her hard. She barely had a chance to take a breath. He pulled his hips back and slammed against her groin. If there was ever a question of sex being the main focus of Gunner’s brain, that violent action sealed the image. His hands slid down to squeeze her ass before wrapping her legs around his waist. His lips left hers. Those devouring eyes were dilated almost black. Their breathing was rapid, faces flushed.

“If you don’t want this, this would be the best time to let me know.”

He lowered his face to breathe inher scent as though he never wanted to forget it. Unwrapping her legs from his hips, she took his hand in hers and led him to the bedroom. She began unbuttoning her blouse.

“Stop. That’s my job.”

Confused, she spotted the pain lingering in his eyes that the alcohol had not obliterated. In that moment, she wanted to ease his pain and make him want her as he did when they were against the door.

Giving him an affirmative nod, her eyes lowered. Her heart raced, fearing any hesitation on her part he’d back away. He brought his hands to the button of her pants. His entire demeanor changed, snapped to attention. “These pants do nothing for the curves I felt. Leave the shoes on.”

The rasp of a zipper sounded abnormally loud in the quiet room. Then the rest of the world ceased to exist. Gunner stepped in front of her taking in every curve before dropping to his knees to slide his hands up and down. On a pass back upward, his hands gathered the ends of her blouse and ripped it open. Buttons flew and threads broke. Honey gasped at the feeling of being desired by this man enough to inspire such violent passion. No one had ever wanted her like this.

He groaned as she felt a light brush of sandpaper from his cheek against her stomach. He lifted her by the hips and carried her into the bedroom.

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