Kyra

Kyra was stir crazy. She hadn't even planned to leave the house that day, but because she didn't have access to her car, she couldn't stop moving. In the few hours since she woke up, she'd washed, conditioned, and straightened her hair and cleaned her entire apartment. It didn't help that her mind was working overtime as well. Every time she stood still, she thought about Juice. The sincerity in his eyes when he tried to comfort her, the rush of riding on the back of his bike, how she'd felt his kisses all the way down to her toes. Perhaps there was an advantage to being stranded in the house for a few hours after a night like that. She didn't have to worry that someone would pick up her school girl giddiness.

When Juice arrived with her car, Kyra was busy in the kitchen, sipping wine and preparing food to drop off at Neeta's later. She'd hoped he'd stay afterward, so she was pleased when he asked if he could come in for awhile. "Feel free to give yourself the grand tour," she said while she sliced mushrooms for her spaghetti sauce. He crept around her living room, studying the pictures on her walls. He stopped in front of a large double frame that held her degree from Sac State and a picture of her with her mother.

"Dude, you look just like your mother," he said, almost to himself.

"That a compliment or just a statement?"

"Is it appropriate for me to say that your mom was hot? If so, then yes that's a compliment. If not, then it's just a statement."

Kyra chuckled as she sipped from her glass. "Um ok…" He was nervous, as though he had something to say, but couldn't find the words. It was adorable, watching the tattooed biker go through the motions of post-first kiss awkwardness. Something told her that he hadn't had a first kiss that meant anything in awhile. Let me put him out of his misery."So what's up?" she asked him.

He sat down at her dining room table and folded his hands. "I thought we should talk…about last night…"

He doesn't want to talk. He thinks he has to."A kiss requires a 'talk?' What are you, a chick?"

"Well…I…Shit." he paused before breaking out into a smile. "Okay, you're right. I sound like a chick right now," he eased back into the chair, relieved that she'd brought up the elephant in the room. "But if we don't talk about it, how do I know you won't slap me if I try to kiss you again?"

She went back to slicing vegetables to hide her amusement. He was really trying to have the "So what are we doing" conversation. "Did I slap you last night?" she asked, her eyes still glued to the cutting board.

"No."

"Well then, what does that tell you?"

He nodded his head and she knew that he understood. "So does this umm open door policy apply to other shit too?"

Kyra looked up and waved her knife playfully. "Who said anything about an open door policy Juan?"

"Yeah," he started. "I clearly remember asking you not to call me that."

"You said no to Juancarlos, you didn't say anything about Juan," she replied with a smile. "But back to this so-called open door policy thing…"

Juice interrupted her. "Does it apply to whatever you've got going in the kitchen right now? Smells pretty good."

"Welllll," she exaggerated. "I usually make men earn the privilege of my cooking, but since you did me a huge favor yesterday, I suppose I can feedyou. You got an hour or so to spare?"

"I've got some time."

"Good," Kyra said. "There's beer, soda, and water in the fridge. Make yourself at home."

Juice

It was ironic. The first time Juice saw Kyra get out of Oswald's Benz in a skirt suit, he'd been slightly turned off. Today, as he watched her strut across the lot in another one of her skirt and heels combinations, all he could think about was how the heels would look crossed behind his back. It'd been two weeks since their first kiss. Since then they'd hung out a few times; meeting for drinks in town or hanging out at her place, and exchanged daily text messages. The previous evening, she'd been wrapped around him on her couch when the club called him away. He was starting to wonder how members with old ladies ever found time to get laid.

No one in the club knew they were hanging out yet and for the time being, Juice didn't mind. The guys wouldn't care, but he wanted to spare Kyra of Gemma's craziness for as long as possible. She still only came to the lot on business for Oswald and when she did, they kept their interactions cordial; exchanging the occasional knowing glance, but nothing indicative of their budding relationship.

Juice scanned the garage. A few of his brothers hadn't clocked in to work yet and most of the ones who lived in the clubhouse were out tending to gun business. A Cheshire cat grin formed on his lips as he whipped out his cell to send Kyra a text: "How long will u b here?"

A few minutes later, she responded: "No more than an hour."

On one hand, he had no idea when someone from SAMCRO would come back to the clubhouse. On the other hand, he needed to get laid. Badly. And there was no way he'd be able to concentrate with Kyra in such close proximity for the next hour. He text back: "Tell Gemma you need to use the wireless."

Gemma was occupied at her desk, so Juice offered to sit with Kyra in the clubhouse while she used her computer. As usual, Gemma gave him a "Yeah right" glare, but as long as she thought he just had a goofy crush on Kyra, Juice figured she was still safe. For the moment, anyway.

Kyra was apprehensive when they walked into SAMCRO headquarters, though she tried to hide behind her usual wit. She was amused at Juice's photo among the wall of mug shots. "Proud day for you, huh?" she quipped.

Juice faked a chuckle, but he was focused on the way her ass moved beneath her skirt. He imagined the clingy fabric bunched up around her hips while he moved inside of her. He'd go slow. He wanted her to feel every inch of him. His eyes trailed down to her shoes, black high-heeled pumps with an ankle strap. She can definitely leave those on.

She looked out of place, all polished and shiny in the dust-filled dorm room. After he closed the door, he removed the laptop bag from her shoulder and placed it on the floor. She moved toward the bed, but he grabbed her hand. "C'mere," he said, pulling her body against his.

Their eyes met and she licked her lips as his hands roamed across her ass. He'd learned that she loved the feel of her ass in his hands as much as he did. "Picking up where we left off last night?" she purred.

He answered with a nod and leaned down to brush his lips against hers. It was a dance they'd grown accustomed to; starting with light brushes and gradually delving deeper into each other's mouths. He savored the taste of her strawberry lip gloss on his tongue as he reached up to remove her blazer. Her hands crept up his chest, settling briefly on his shoulders before sliding off his cut.

He held on to her waist as he pushed her toward the bed. Her hands moved downward to his zipper, unzipping and then massaging him through his boxers. He stiffened at her touch. As they eased onto the mattress, Juice pushed her skirt upward and settled between her legs, running his fingertips along the insides of her thighs. Beneath him, Kyra unbuttoned her blouse, her B-cup breasts pushing against her black lace bra. Juice took a second to enjoy the view before taking a handful of her left breast into his hand and teasing the exposed skin on the right with the tip of his tongue. She reacted, arching her back and gripping the sides of his T-shirt. "Take this off," she whispered.

He obeyed and Kyra's eyes scanned his bare chest and shoulders with admiration. "Damn, boy." As he lay down, he spread her legs farther and pressed his hardness against her. He ran his fingertips up her thighs again, this time caressing her wetness through her lace panties. He teased her for a moment before sliding two fingers inside of her. He crooked his index finger, making the "come here" notion and she trembled against him. "Hey Juice?" she panted.

"Yeah?"

"Get a condom."

Within seconds, he retrieved a Trojan from the pocket of his jeans, rolled it on and steadied himself to enter her. He eased in, savoring how her warm walls squeezed around him. Jesus Christ, she was wet. He was sure she'd soak through to the mattress. "Gotdamn," he said with a sigh, increasing the pace of his strokes. This shit is fucking amazing. Kyra picked up on his rhythm, catching and returning each of his thrusts as he went deeper. He regretted not having touched any Crow Eaters in the last two weeks. He felt like he would erupt at any second and couldn't bear the thought of finishing first on their first time. He tried to distract himself by kissing her neck, but that only made her wetter, which wouldn't help him hold out at all. When she locked her legs around his waist, Juice knew he was a goner, until she placed her hands on his chest, motioning for him to roll over. He was relieved. The break in motion would at least buy him a few more minutes.

Once she was situated on top of him, Kyra moved her hips in small circles. She clenched the sheets in her fists and her movements got more intense. The sight of her slim waist spreading into womanly hips and thighs that threatened to ride him into oblivion sent a chill down his spine. She locked her eyes shut and attacked her bottom lip with her teeth; a surefire she sign that she was turned on and trying to suppress a scream. Realizing that she was close to the edge, Juice dug his fingertips into her hips and thrust upward. When the moan that she'd been fighting broke loose and she contracted around him with a pace that felt like a manic heartbeat, he finally let go, reaching his climax right before she collapsed onto his chest.

They lay in silence, both panting and searching for full breaths. Kyra found her wind first. Juice expected her usual witty remark, but instead all she said was: "Well, damn."

He circled her lower back with his fingertip. "That a good 'Well damn' or a bad 'Well damn'?"

She laughed. "I think the answer to that question is on your thighs." She was right. She'd leaked a wet, sticky mess all over them. "What time is it?"

He'd forgotten that they didn't have the afternoon to waste in his bed; which was a shame, because he wanted round two. This time, without any clothes in the way. He looked over at his alarm clock. "You've got about ten minutes."

Kyra sighed. "Shit. Let me pull myself together. Can't go back to work looking all post-coital."

Juice grinned as she tried to fix her appearance. She finger-combed the spirals in her hair; her now wrinkled skirt smoothed back down over the same hips that had rocked on top of him a few minutes ago. When she was satisfied with her reflection, she strolled back to the bed to plant a kiss on his lips. He took advantage, pulling her in for more than the good-bye peck she'd intended to give him. "I see I can't give you an inch," she said against his lips.

"Nope. But you do a damn good job of taking eight and a half."

She sat up and giggled, giving him a minute to admire his handiwork. She had a freshly-fucked glow about her. He was tempted to tell her, but figured she was self-conscious enough about back to work looking like sex. "Funny," she said before getting up and walking toward the door. "Call me later?"

"Yes ma'am," he said with a satisfied smirk. He'd never look at her skirt suits the same way again.