Sweet Vibrations

  SWEET VIBRATIONS

  Melinda Barron

  ®

  www.loose-id.com

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  * * * * *

  This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable.

  DISCLAIMER: Many of the acts described in our BDSM/fetish titles can be dangerous. Loose Id® publishes these stories for members of the community in which these acts are known and practiced safely. If you have an interest in the pleasures and pains you find described herein, we urge you to seek out advice and guidance from knowledgeable persons. Please do not try any new sexual practice, whether it be fire, rope, or whip play, without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id® nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

  Sweet Vibrations

  Melinda Barron

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Loose Id LLC

  1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924

  Carson City NV 89701-1215

  www.loose-id.com

  Copyright © August 2007 by Melinda Barron

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

  ISBN 978-1-59632-522-7

  Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

  Printed in the United States of America

  Editor: Maryam Salim

  Cover Artist: April Martinez

  Author’s Note

  The world of BDSM is an intriguing place. Readers should remember that the world set up for Lucy and Lake is fiction. Before jumping into something, people should always consider safe sexual practices. Also, remember that all BDSM practices should be safe, sane, and consensual. Special thanks to Maura for reading, re-reading, and re-reading this manuscript, and for her open, honest appraisal.

  MB

  Chapter One

  Lucy Travers pulled back the clutch and kicked the bike into fourth gear. The wind whipped around her face and a sweet shudder ran through her body. Straddling this bike was like riding into heaven. Tingly tendrils of power crept up her legs and shot straight to her core. For about the hundredth time that day she fought with her decision to sell the chrome beast humming between her thighs.

  Just as soon as the idea appeared, though, she kicked it out of her brain. She already had three motorcycles of her own. She didn’t need a fourth one. She especially didn’t need this one, reminding her every time she looked at it that her uncle was dead. Well, he wasn’t really her uncle, not technically. He was the brother of her stepfather, which would make him her step-uncle. Or he had been until her mother had divorced her stepfather and moved on to her next husband.

  When Lucy had heard Craig Margouse had died in an accident she’d been devastated. During her mother’s eight-year marriage to Craig’s brother, Patrick, Craig had seemed like more of a father to her than Pat. He’d taken her under his wing, protected her from Pat’s temper, and taught her to love the outdoors, especially riding motorcycles.

  He’d taken her on her first ride when she was nine; taught her the finer points of braking when she was twelve; and let her pilot his Honda when she was fourteen. When she turned sixteen he presented her with the pink slip to that bike, and told her that no matter what, he’d better never catch her without a helmet on her head.

  She still had that bike, sitting in her garage. When she’d heard about Craig’s death, she’d jumped on it and ridden for hours, stopping only for gas, or to sit at a roadside table and cry. She’d been furious with him, madder than hell, when she’d found out that he’d crashed his bike, and had not been wearing a helmet at the time.

  Her mother had been less than helpful in her daughter’s grief, reminding Lucy that Craig wasn’t even a blood relative. But Lucy didn’t care. He was a blood relative to her. She went to the funeral and sat in the back, her tears flowing freely as his friends recited poems and told stories of Craig’s life.

  When the lawyer had called two days later to tell her she’d inherited everything, Lucy had been shocked. The shock quickly gave way to anger. She didn’t want the responsibility of going through his personal effects and deciding what to do with what. That chore should have fallen to Patrick.

  Then she’d gone to the lawyer’s office and he’d given her a short letter written by Craig just two months before his death.

  You’re like the daughter I never had. Do with it all as you will. If you sell the bikes, please make sure they go to good homes. Behave yourself and take care. And always remember to wear your helmet. Oh, and take care of Fred.

  Fred. Lucy exited the highway and shifted down into third. The damn dog had almost died right after Craig. The vet had said the dog was in mourning. Lucy thought he was just pissed because, not only was Craig gone, he now had to share his space with her two cats, Scarlet and Rhett.

  Plus, he’d gone from a house-sized yard to a duplex-sized yard. For a large black lab, that was quite a difference. It had taken four months before the dog was back to normal. Now, eight months after Craig’s death, Fred had settled in and become very submissive to Ashley and Rhett, until they left food in their dishes. Then, all bets were off.

  Lucy came to a stop at the light and settled her feet on the pavement. She ignored a catcall from the idiot driving the car behind her and tried to remember how many blocks down she had to travel before turning left. She usually traveled to Margaret’s new house from the other direction. Margaret had promised her that the man who was thinking about buying the bike was a good person, that he loved motorcycles, and would care for Craig’s baby as if it were his own, which it would be, if he bought it.

  What had she said his name was? Something different, Lucy remembered that. Tank? Frank? No, it was Lake. Lake Ross. Margaret said he worked with her at the hospital. Lucy figured he was a doctor, which meant he could meet the exorbitant price she was asking for the motorcycle.

  “Hey, baby! Too busy thinking about me to watch the light? It’s green!”

  Lucy fought the desire to flip her fellow motorist the bird, popped the clutch, and sped through the light. The asshole sped behind her, following so closely that Lucy knew if she hit the brakes he’d slam into the back of the bike. She flapped her left hand behind her back in an effort to get him to back off. In return, he tooted his horn to the shave and a haircut tune.

  Why did a woman driving a motorcycle seem to attract all the loonies? She had a few more blocks to go, and there was no other lane to get into. Besides, figuring this guy for the jerk that he was, she knew that he’d just follow her if she did change lanes.

  She let off the accelerator and the bike slowed. A few minutes later she downshifted, then looked at the speedometer; she was now going fifteen in a thirty-mile zone. When the horn came this time it wasn’t the friendly tune of shave and a haircut, but a loud bleeping sound that made Lucy grin.


  “Move it, sister.”

  “Back off, asshole!” She screamed the words, and then took the next left, this time shooting him the bird with her left hand pressed against her thigh where he couldn’t see it, but she could get the satisfaction of letting her feelings be known.

  A few blocks later she took a right. She’d only been to Margaret’s new house one other time, but the gathering of motorcycles and cars in the street guided her to the right spot. She slipped the bike into the driveway and turned off the engine. She undid the strap for the helmet, praying the metal hat hadn’t done too much damage to her hair.

  Once the bike was secured, she followed the noise to the backyard. When Margaret had said they were having a “small barbecue,” Lucy figured there would be five, maybe ten people. Judging from the number of bikes in the yard and street there were at least twenty people already here.

  She stepped through the gate and surveyed the gathering. Make that twenty-five. She searched the crowd and found Margaret standing in a group of people she didn’t recognize.

  Lucy greeted several of her friends as she made her way across the yard. She wondered which of the guests was her prospective buyer. Several of the men looked as if they were biker enthusiasts.

  Margaret saw her coming, and broke off from the group to meet her.

  “You’re late.”

  “Sorry, I took the bike for a last spin. I changed my mind about selling it several times. But, here I am. Where’s my buyer?”

  “Over by the trees. Look, if you don’t want to sell the bike, Lake will understand. He’ll be disappointed, because that’s all he’s talked about all week, but I think he’ll understand.” Margaret put her hand on Lucy’s arm and tilted her head, a sad look on her face.

  Lucy thanked the powers that be for her high school friend, who had always been there for Lucy, through thick and thin.

  “No, I have to do this. I can’t afford to keep paying insurance on four motorcycles and a car. The insurance on Craig’s bike is more expensive than the others. My bill almost doubled when I added it to my policy. So, in an effort to meet my bills, the bike has to go.”

  “You don’t have to ride it. You could just leave it in the garage.”

  “To leave that gorgeous bike in my garage would be a crime.”

  “To my way of thinking, asking $25,000 for a piece of metal with only two wheels is a crime.”

  Lucy laughed. “It’s a fully decked-out 2000 Indian Chief. It’s a gorgeous bike that deserves to be taken care of. He needs to make sure it’s garaged and not left out in the elements, and that he rides it gently. It’s a show-quality bike. Are you sure this guy is reliable?”

  “I’m sure. He was a doctor at the hospital, one of our best. He gave it up, though, because it took up too much of his time. He’s now a physical therapist. And he’s single.” Margaret wiggled her eyebrows and wagged her tongue.

  “Did you bring me here to fix me up, or to help me sell a motorcycle?”

  “Double duty. I told him you were minus a boyfriend, and loved to ride. He’s intrigued.”

  “Did you tell him I’m fat?”

  “You know I hate that word, and you are not fat. You’re voluptuous. Listen, Luce, he’s a cool guy. Give him a chance. Getting laid might improve your attitude toward life.”

  “My attitude is fine, thank you very much. And what makes you think I’d sleep with this guy at the drop of a hat?”

  “You’re attitude’s fine? Let’s examine the evidence. Who just got written up at work for yelling at a customer? Who turns down every dinner invitation she gets? Who hasn’t been to a movie, play, or party in more than a year? Don’t say it’s because you’re upset about Craig, because this started way before he died. You let Brandon get to you. Admit it.”

  Lucy fought to keep her temper under control. Margaret was right, for sure, but having it pointed out grated on her nerves.

  “He was my husband, Margaret. He left me with a crap load of bills. The only way I’ve been able to dig myself out is by selling Craig’s bikes. Now I have to sell the one I wanted to keep. And I’m here now, aren’t I?”

  “Only because there’s the chance you could sell the bike. If I hadn’t dangled that little tidbit in front of you, you’d be at home. Admit it. You can’t keep yourself inside a bubble anymore.”

  “You’re a witch.” Lucy shook her head and wrinkled her nose. She knew that Margaret was right, but she didn’t want to hear it. It had been well over a year since she and Brandon had divorced. It was time to move on. The problem, however, was Lucy didn’t think she would be able to. Brandon had put a stake through her heart, and left a huge hole in the center of it.

  “Look, I’m not asking you to fall in love with Lake. I’m just asking you to give yourself a chance to have an orgasm with something that’s not battery operated.”

  “Hey, little George and I get along just great. He never talks back, and he always hits just the right spots.”

  “Yeah, but you can’t cuddle with him afterwards.”

  “Brandon never wanted to cuddle, either. And George hasn’t walked out on me yet.”

  Margaret shook her head and waved toward a crowd of people. Lucy turned to watch the man who now moved toward them.

  “Holy crap. You didn’t tell me he was Hector reborn.” Well over six feet tall, with black, wavy hair that hit his shoulders. His eyes were a deep green. He had a neatly trimmed beard and mustache that gave him a very rugged look. She guessed he weighed about two hundred twenty pounds, but it seemed to be all muscle.

  There was a grin on his face and he winked at her.

  “Hi. Lake Ross.” He held out his hand.

  “Lucy Travers.” His hand swallowed hers and Lucy quickly pulled it away. A confused look flitted across his face, and then he smiled.

  “So, you’ve got a 2000 Indian you’re wanting to get rid of?”

  “It’s more of a necessity than a want. It’s out front.” Lucy smiled at Margaret, then started toward the gate, praying that Lake wasn’t measuring her hips as she walked. Margaret was right. He was gorgeous. “It’s a five speed, black and red, decked out with lots of chrome. It’s a V-twin, and it drives like a dream.”

  Lucy turned to see his face as the bike came into view. The grin that had been there earlier now stretched from ear to ear.

  “I’ll take it. But we need to talk about that asking price. You know as well as I do that you inflated it.”

  “Don’t you want to look it over first? Take it for a spin? I promise you it’s worth every penny that I’m asking.”

  He cocked his head and shook it slowly from side to side. “I’m willing to go as high as twenty thousand, maybe twenty and a half.”

  “Oh, please, you’re wasting my time.”

  Lake walked to the bike and stroked the gleaming metal. His fingers strayed to the leather seat and Lucy felt herself go weak in the knees. It was as if he were stroking a lover. An image of him stroking her hips while she straddled the bike slipped into her mind. She bit her lip to stifle a moan as he stroked the fins.

  When he threw his leg over the machine and gripped the handlebars she let the moan escape. This man was made for this bike. He looked like a Greek god straddling a horse, ready to go into battle.

  “Key?”

  She put it in his outstretched hand. The engine roared to life.

  “This baby purrs like a kitten. Hop on.”

  “No, you go ahead. I don’t ride bitch very well.”

  “Really? We’ll have to work on that. We’ll just take it around the block. Besides, what if I try to steal it? Hop on.”

  The idea was tempting. It had been years since she’d taken the submissive position on a motorcycle. She’d been riding since she was nine, and now, at age thirty-one, it had been at least eleven years since she’d ridden behind anyone.

  “I’m not sure I’d know what to do anymore.”

  “All you have to do is let me sit between your thighs. I’ll do the rest.” The loo
k on his face made the proposition take on a positively nasty tone, and Lucy loved it.

  “That sounds incredibly dangerous. And incredibly…” Lucy pursed her lips together to keep the word sensual from pouring forth. She could tell from the look on his face that he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  “Come on, one little spin; then we can talk money.” He pushed her helmet toward her. She strapped it on and threw her left leg behind him. The seat was higher in the back, but still, he rested perfectly between her thighs.

  Lucy felt a stirring inside her that she hadn’t felt in a year. Her nipples tightened and her clit twitched. This is a bad idea. Get off! Get off!

  He pushed backwards, his ass coming into contact with her upper thighs. The tingle spread through her body. Idiot! Get off now. Two more seconds like this and you’ll be flat on your back before nightfall.

  She moved her feet to the ground, then jerked them back onto the footrests when Lake released the clutch, turned the bike, and took off down the street.

  Lucy put her hands on his waist, which was firm under her touch. When he got to the end of the block, he turned left onto a main road.

  Lucy leaned in toward his ear. “This is more than around the block,” she yelled.

  He answered by shrugging his shoulders and she felt him shake with laughter. She knew that just like her, he was in love with the Indian. When they pulled up to a light, he turned toward her.

  “Twenty.”

  “No way. Twenty-five.”

  “OK, twenty-one.”

  “No, I’ll go as low as twenty-four.”

  Lake winked at her again, then took off as the light turned green.

  The vibrations from the motorcycle, coupled with the warmth of a hunky man between her thighs, lulled Lucy into a dreamy state. Little George might have to have a rest tonight.