Filed to story: Cora and Gunner MC Story Book PDF Free
“I didn’t think you were easy, and as far as I know, I am clean. But if you are worried, I can get tested,” Gunner offered, and that eased my mind.
“Please.” I sighed in relief.
His phone rang.
“What?”
“Yeah, yeah, I got hurt, not shot, that was someone else.”
“No, not coming in today, going to work in the club workshop, check out some of the bikes that went on the ride, one or two sounded off.”
“Yeah, send Jessy, he could use the experience.” He hung up the phone.
“Working from home today, want to come watch me work? After breakfast?” Gunner offered, It would be nice to see more of this place. I haven’t really had a tour of the place yet.
“Sure, it’s good to see more of the club.”
“Shower, first, need a hand with your thigh bandaging?” Gunner ordered, with that smirk that I think was permanently etched on his face, when he was around me.
“Need to cover it, can’t get the stitches wet. I have something in my kit that will do the trick,” I replied, not letting myself ask what was really on his mind, but I can guess.
“Scrubs loves your kit; it has almost everything a doctor would need in it.” I nod. I purchased it and built on it when I started thinking about being more than a nurse and continued studying to become a nurse practitioner, but I haven’t taken the next step yet. I can do online studies, but I need a hospital for support.
In my previous job, I was too busy in the ED to find time to study. I was hoping this move might let me do that, but then if I enjoy the direction this job might take ine, it could lead in a different direction. There are many options for being a nurse, as there are different kinds of doctors.
Gunner POV
Sometime during the night, had rolled onto my back, and Cora followed me, guessing, chasing the body warmth. I do run a little hot at night. I woke enough to put my arm around her and pull her in close, falling back to sleep fairly quickly. She was a fairly quiet sleeper, not-someone who tosses and turns, although she did murmur a bit; it must have been a dream. Cora was moving again, and I woke up, trying to keep her with me, but I couldn’t deny a bathroom call, I needed to go myself soon.
What I didn’t expect was what she did. When Cora returned to bed, she had no panties on, and her warmth and wet arousal coated my length. This was the best start to the day. I let Cora have her turn, getting what she needed, then took what I wanted.
Yeah, I don’t mind being woken up like that more often.
Fuk, she’s a perfect fit, her channel’s tight, squeezing my d**k with just the right amount of pressure, no faking this. Many of the club girls fake it, try too hard, making false groans, thinking we can’t tell the difference, but there was no hiding that Cora was taking all she wanted and not the least bit concerned about me. Her face, when I looked at her, was displaying her pure enjoyment, all real.
I like it.
I can get addicted to this treatment,
Hope it’s not a one-off.
I helped Cora to cover her wound, feeling guilty to see her body marred the way it was because of me. Before assisting her in the shower, I took the soap and sponge and carefully washed her body. Cora’s body was toned, not an ounce of fat anywhere; her skin on her torso was creamy white, as it had never been kissed by the sun. I loved the feel of her. Her brown hair hung to her waist, long, silky, soft. When I reached her groin, I almost lost my breath. Cora shaves her muff, and a small amount of short hair is there in the shape of a heart. That was such a turn on, I felt my shaft harden more at the sight of it! Who could have hurt this woman by having her running like she was? Her lack of explanation of the number of pings on her phone was enough to tell me she was hurt.
“Hair?” I was up to the task if she wanted her hair washed, running my hands through her long, silky tresses.
“No, washed it last night, getting the dirt and blood out, it’s good for now.” I can’t deny I was disappointed. I helped her out of the shower, sat her on the toilet seat, lid down, and handed her some towels, while I darted back into the shower and washed myself.
The dressing wasn’t that hard to do. Following Cora’s instructions, I took a picture of it on my phone and showed it to her.
“Good, clean and no infection. Can you put some of the antibiotic cream on it before covering it up? I know the doctors say keep it dry, but I don’t always follow doctors’ orders.” Yeah, I worked that one out quickly enough. I complied, then covered it with a clean bandage, wrapping it as she instructed.
Cora was going to need the crutches today, so she held them while I carried her down the stairs and into the dining hall. Some club girls were here, serving the guys. I thought they had all gone home. One in particular had tried more than once to sneak into my room. I have started to lock it now, not something we had to do in the past, but some girls like to try and push the boundaries, and this tart was one of those kinds of girls. No one wants her, except to fuk and leave.
Pulled out a chair for Cora and let her sit, placing the crutches on the wall behind her. Then I took a seat myself, the table was full of assorted food. Our patch ladies keep the good food coming. Some like to cook, which helps us allocate work tasks. For women, long-time members are responsible for keeping us men happy with the food and keeping the staff to keep the place clean, while the other ladies handle the other work tasks. If the woman refuses to work, they are out the door and not allowed in the clubhouse, except on open days, which are Friday and Saturday nights. Many refuse to do the laundry, and that’s one full-time job in itself.
Kit, the club wannabe, a club tart, top pain in the azz for most of us who are unclaimed, came over, looked at Cora up and down, and how I was serving her food, and looking after her.
“Who are you, Tart?” Kit growled close to Cora’s face.
“Tart? Thank you, but can you clarify? Am I a sweet tart or a savoury one?” Cora replied calmly. Kit’s outburst had people in the room turning to see what the commotion was about.
“What the fuk are you talking about, tart?” Spittle came flying out of her mouth, flying past Cora.
“Kit, tone it down, surely you jest, you don’t know what a tart is?” one of the patch members replied, with a hint of sarcasm.
“What do you mean?” Kit looked confused.
“A tart is a cake or is it a pastry, hum, either way, it’s food?” Another woman answered, looking at Cora with respect.
