by Echo Slater
“We’ll only throw a few punches before bailing,” Hagan insisted. “You know, to keep our skills sharp.”
“Hardy-har,” he muttered before hugging me tightly and then tugging Hagan into the embrace. “Don’t become a statistic.”
My parents try so hard to be cool. Honesty between us is important. Despite my openness, no way was I telling them about Dirty Bastard. If they had any idea my real goal was to flirt with a sexy man covered in tats and muscles and...
“Watch the road,” Hagan mumbles when I get distracted.
“What if he doesn’t remember me?”
“With those lips, he’ll remember.”
“What if he has a girlfriend?”
“I’m sure he has plenty,” Hagan says and then frowns as we arrive at the line of cars waiting to park in the Ranch’s roped-off, grassy lot labeled “Visitor Parking.” “Wait, do you fantasize about having a real relationship with a biker? What the fuck, Cam? Will he bring you flowers? Meet your parents? Not give you crabs after he sticks his monster dick in some other girl? Those are all delusions, and you’re usually more grounded.”
“Am I, though?”
“No,” Hagan says, grinning, “but I like to pretend for your benefit. It’s part of the bestie code.”
“I don’t know what I’m thinking. I’ve spent all week wondering about his hot bod and sexy face. Nothing bad about that,” I say, inching my SUV closer to a spot. “But then I started to wonder about his personality and brains and stuff.”
“Just be smart. You know the score. He’s hot. You’re hot. He has a dick, and you have those lips. There’s no crime in letting your mind go there but never trust him. He isn’t a stupid guy from school. He’s a stupid guy in a biker gang. Dirty Bastard has weapons and drugs and unmarked graves where he’ll stick your corpse. Why you gotta turn a fun night into a struggle between life and death?”
When I scowl at her overly dire tone, I realize she’s screwing with me. “Finally,” I say, parking my red Terrain in a spot.
“Don’t leave me,” Hagan demands before we get out. “No matter how hot he looks or if he offers to lick you out until you lose the ability to speak. Just stick with me. I can’t get gang-raped the week before a big test.”
After we pinkie-promise to stay together, we leave the Terrain and start walking toward the large crowd of bodies. “Gold Dust Woman” plays on the speakers next to lanterns hung on tall poles scattered around the field.
“You know who loves this song?” Hagan asks, holding my hand as we move through dancing people. “Our dads. And apparently, your boyfriend.”
“Do those fine fuckers really remind you of our dads?” I ask, gesturing at where Dirty Bastard stands with his biker buddies.
Fanning her cheeks, Hagan mumbles, “No, I don’t suppose they do.”
We share a smile and admire the six men standing in their blue jeans, black boots, and leather biker vests. No shirts, I notice. Well, why hide the ripped muscles they’re packing?
“Vain bikers,” Hagan says, leaning into me. “What a terrible quality in a man.”
“Drool less when you talk trash. It makes your words more believable. Let’s go over and see if Dirty Bastard remembers me.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“We’ll pretend to be lesbians and make out. Then, walk away with our heads held up high.”
“Alright, but keep your horniness to first-base stuff.”
Walking toward the group of men, I notice the people partying around the bikers are careful to keep their distance. No one bumps into them. A few thirsty women excessively flirt in their direction, but even they don’t approach without getting the green light.
Though I’ve often heard about the biker club in our town, I never cared about the details. Well, I did like the chance to score weed from someone besides the losers at school. But now, I’m very curious about the Wet Dicks Motorcycle Club. Well, mostly, I’m interested in one tall, dark, and staggeringly handsome member.
When Dirty Bastard spots me walking in his direction, he smiles like a man who’s been waiting for me to make an appearance. I feel on the spot in a way I never do, not even while cheerleading. Failing in front of a crowd only means laughter at my expense.
But flopping with Dirty Bastard holds more weight. I’m dumb to allow myself to care. Except being young means I’m allowed to fuck about for a while and screw up. Getting stupid over such a sexy specimen feels like an extremely acceptable mistake.
MAD DOG—DREAMS
Waking to thoughts of Cameo, I start my day with a boner for a girl I don’t know. Shit, no way can she live up to my fantasies. But I still can’t wait to see her. And I’m fairly fucking certain she’ll be around later. Though Cameo might look like a good girl, she’s clearly got a taste for the bad.
That’s why she doesn’t waste any time returning to me once she shows up at the Ranch. I catch her peel away from a crowd of idiots I know from the local community college. The guys are so high already they don’t even notice the two hot chicks passing by.
Cameo doesn’t give them any mind, either. Her pretty blue eyes only see me. My gaze locks on hers and won’t let go.
“Well, here you are,” I say as she stops in front of me. “Cameo sure is a pretty name.”
“This is Hagan. We realized we don’t know your name.”
Leaning down, I whisper in her ear, “What name did you moan when you thought about me last night alone in your room as your fingers disappeared between your sweet lips?”
Cameo turns her head until her mouth is an inch from mine and says with complete sincerity, “Dwayne.”
Smirking, I ask, “Did that do it for you, baby?”
“I also have a vibrator, so I don’t use my fingers, ‘kay, Dwayne?”
My gaze caresses Cameo, and I nearly kiss her right then and there. Why wait? I’m planning to keep this devious, delicious woman.
“Clears throat,” Hagan says, drawing Cameo’s attention from me. “Hey, stud, you have a name, right?”
“Mike,” I answer and stand up straight, even if I’d rather get closer to Cameo. “People call me ‘Mad Dog’ on account of how I’m wild in a fight.”
Cameo smiles. “Do you whimper and wet yourself like a puppy?”
“Yeah, baby, that’s just what I do.”
Stoney hands Cameo a beer and says, “Air’s getting sticky with how thick you two are laying it on. See if the booze will fix what ails you.”
“We have to share,” Cameo announces and gestures to Hagan. “I promised my parents.”
“Wait, so like a buddy system for a trip to the fucking zoo? Is that why you’re holding hands?” Stoney asks, gesturing at where the girls’ fingers remain locked together.
“This is Stoney,” I tell Cameo as her luscious lips wrap around the end of the bottle. I get a little lightheaded at the thought of them sucking on my cock.
“Why Stoney and not something better?” Hagan asks as Cameo hands her the beer.
“See, my heart’s made out of stone,” he explains, and I smile at his bullshit.
Hagan frowns. “And you’re proud of that fact?”
“Yeah, wouldn’t you be?”
Hagan rolls her dark eyes. “My heart’s made out of lava, hot and gooey. Now, that’s something to be proud of.”
“Are you flirting with me?” Stoney asks, sounding as if he’s threatening her.
“No, I’m passing the time while Cameo drools on your friend.”
On cue, my sweet hot stuff pretends to wipe slobber from her mouth while arching one of her brows.
“Can you blame me?” she asks, and I lean down to her ear.
“Did you come here just to tease me, or are you willing to enjoy a little privacy?”
“I might be young and maybe a little dumb, but I know all about stranger danger,” she whispers as my lips skim her cheek. “Besides, I need to stay with Hagan. Didn’t you hear there’s a man around whose heart’s made out of stone? That can�
��t be safe.”
I grin at how she furiously blushes, even while giving me shit. Fucking hell, I think I’m in love already. But, yeah, she won’t be offering me an inch of sweet hot flesh tonight.
“Then, let me take you out somewhere. Real official like you girls prefer.”
“What do you know about girls like me? Do you have a high school harem?” she asks, looking around. “Do you boys have these parties to scope out new baby sluts?”
“Hell, Cami girl, stop using words that’ll make me hard,” I say, tugging at the crotch of my jeans. “My pants can only stretch so much.”
Cameo’s cheeks remain bright red, shocked by what her mouth does to me. The more she talks, the less I’m thinking solely about how much I’d like her lips wrapped around my cock. She’s gotten me fucking crazed—heart racing wildly, crazy thoughts swirling in my head, fingers buzzing over how she’s close enough to touch.
I’m ready to declare to the world how Cameo’s mine. Then, I’ll keep her locked up in my bungalow until death does us part.
CAMEO—FIREWORK
Though the beer tastes gross, it makes my head fuzzy. All the cotton between my ears erases the presence of the other partygoers. I only see Mad Dog and feel Hagan gripping my hand.
He’s taller than I remember. His shoulders seem wider, too. I think it’s his lack of a shirt that’s throwing me off. I’m flustered by the heat radiating off his body.
Nearby, his sexy friends joke around. One of the blond guys makes eyes at some random girl. Stoney keeps frowning at Hagan, probably because she made fun of his road name.
In front of me, Mad Dog promises wild fun and impending heartache. Though I’m ready for both, I can’t leave Hagan alone.
“Can I have my own beer?” she asks Mad Dog.
“I thought you were sharing.”
“Cam promised to share a beer. I didn’t. Don’t worry, though. My dad is a fully functioning alcoholic. That means I’m genetically inclined to hold my liquor well.”
“Not sure that’s how it works, but have at it,” he says and opens the bottle before handing it to Hagan.
“I’ll carry you back to the car if you pass out,” I promise my bestie while she downs half the beer.
“You’re a good friend,” Hagan says and then smiles at Mad Dog. “Isn’t she great?”
“Yeah, she’s all kinds of wonderful.”
“You ought to take her out for sushi and sake. Then, bring her to your biker whore den and just go to town on her sweet ass.”
Her comment triggers both my blush and laughter from Mad Dog’s friends.
“The liquor hits her hard,” I say, grinning at a smiling Mad Dog. “Do you really live in a biker whore den?”
“No, baby, I live here.”
“In the field?” I ask, batting my eyes and fiddling with the seam of his leather vest. “Seems like you’d get something nicer with the pot money.”
“He gives pot away for blowjobs, remember?” Hagan says, finishing her solo beer. “Man, that’s gotta cut into profits.”
Stoney chuckles nearby, and I catch him checking out Hagan’s ass. I instantly imagine us on a double date. Yeah, how exactly would that go? Eww, is group sex a thing at the Ranch?
“If you want,” Mad Dog offers, “we can walk over to my bungalow, and I’ll show you around.”
“Does your guided tour involve a visit to the bedroom? I only ask because I’m already attached to Hagan.”
Mad Dog smirks. “I’m simply looking to show you how I’m a normal guy. Nothing to worry about.”
“Let’s dance,” Hagan says, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. “Wear me out before he wears you out. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.”
“I don’t think she could ever be a functioning alcoholic,” Mad Dog tells me while Hagan heads for a crowd of sweaty dancing bodies.
Forced to go with her since our hands are glued together, I bounce to the beat of Van Halen’s “Panama.” Hagan sings badly and wiggles more than dances. The beer leaves her blind to embarrassment.
As much as I enjoy an unleashed Hagan, I can’t stop checking out Mad Dog. I know my interest is wrong. No, worse, it’s dangerous. But I want so badly to sneak away with him to his bungalow and taste his kisses. Why can’t I be reckless with my safety? I only live once.
But Hagan is wasted already, and she gets very fucking friendly when the booze takes hold. She comes on to me more than once, and I’m not really her type.
“Mad Dog’s hot,” Hagan says after shoving away a guy and returning to bouncing. “You should get him to take you somewhere out of town where no one will see.”
“I’m unashamed.”
“Your parents would flip,” she says, nearly screaming the last word.
“It's just a meal,” I say and then lean into her ear to whisper, “And a lost cherry. What’s the big deal?”
“Oh, I’ll tell you the big deal,” she says, emphasizing “big.” “It’s probably huge. Like, look at him.”
We turn to stare at an unflinching Mad Dog. “He’s like six foot forty or so.”
“Not quite.”
“Taller than any dork at school,” she says, shoving away another handsy loser. “He’s ripped with muscles. Unless they’re from steroids, he’s likely packing a monster dick.”
“Hey, Hagan,” says another random wiener from school.
Kicking at his crotch, she yells, “Fuck off! I’m trying to paint a picture here!”
“Bitch,” the guy mutters.
I hurry over to kick him in the ass. “Don’t talk shit, Franklin.”
He turns around as if to fight with me. I put up my fists for a rumble I’ll likely lose. When he looks behind me, his beady eyes get huge. I don’t need to turn around to know Mad Dog is protecting his newest conquest.
“How tall are you?” Hagan asks, patting the biker’s beefy chest as if checking for weapons. “Forty feet? Sixty-three?”
I shoo away her hands and smile at Mad Dog. “Feeling him up is my job.” Once my hand strokes his hard chest, I ask, “No, really. We ought to get out the measuring tape and figure out just how big a puppy you are.”
Mad Dog seems suspicious. “Are you drunk?”
“No, just hot,” I say and wink.
Hagan bursts out laughing, and Mad Dog looks ready to give me an eye roll. Then, he cups my face, and I go loosey-goosey at the feel of his hot fingers on my skin.
Staring into his dark-as-night eyes, I ask, “Do you really want to know me?”
“Yeah, baby, I really do. Been thinking about you all week.”
Hagan shoves up against me and pokes him in the nose. “How many girls sucked you off while you were thinking about her all week?”
“Not a single one. Saving my dick for this pretty thing right here.”
“Shit, Cam. Now, you gotta put out,” Hagan says and then starts bouncing while holding my hand.
I smile at her drunken enthusiasm before focusing my happy expression on the six-foot-something wall of muscle in front of me.
“I want you,” I say, and he grins arrogantly. “But I want you to work your way into my panties. Nothing’s free, you know? So, woo me, Mad Dog. Make it memorable. I want to feel special while getting banged in your whorehouse by your monster dick.”
Mad Dog laughs at my words as his fingers tease my jaw. “I’ll woo you so well that those panties will explode right off you, girl.”
Despite the hot bodies jumping and swaying around us—including a goofy and groping Hagan—I hold his gaze and wonder about the real man behind the muscles, leather, and ink. We probably don’t have a single thing in common.
But I don’t care. The boys who share my interests leave me bored while I ditch them with blue balls.
Mad Dog, though, has my complete attention.
MAD DOG—SLIP OF THE LIP
With a little patience and a whole lot of charm, I’m able to lure Cameo away from the dancing nobodies and to my bungalow. Hagan remains at her side, still doing
their buddy system hand-holding thing.
That shit’s adorable but also smart. Too many girls will ditch their drunk friends and wander off with a guy. Only those with a death wish would rape a girl at the Ranch, but we can’t keep an eye on every car in the lot. Safety isn’t guaranteed, and these two girls are beyond small-town sexy. I’m glad they keep an eye on each other, especially since Hagan can’t hold her liquor.
“This is where you live?” Cameo says as we stand on my bungalow’s front dark-stained porch, complete with a bench and rocking chair.
“Why do you sound surprised? You can see the houses from where everyone’s partying.”
“It’s pretty like a dollhouse,” she says, sounding young and easily impressed.
“Can’t a guy like pretty?”
Cameo smiles at me, holding my gaze before looking in through the front window.
“You don’t have to prowl,” I tease, finding a reason to touch her shoulder. “We can go inside.”
“No, that’s not happening,” she says in a stubborn voice.
“Do you really think you’re safer out here than you are in there? If I’m a bad guy, I’ll be dangerous just about anywhere.”
“You are so obviously a bad guy,” she says as Hagan plops down on the rocking chair and hides her face under her hair. “And the Ranch is your territory, meaning you can hunt here for any dumb sheep who wanders in.”
Cameo glances at a silent Hagan and then back at me. “But that’s not why it’s dangerous to go inside. I’m not in the least bit worried about you doing something wrong, Mad Dog. I’m the one who’ll want to be bad if we get near a bed.”
Erasing the space between us, I ask, “And what would you let me do if we were inside and our drunken friend wasn’t playing cockblock?”
“Heavy petting, for sure,” she says, looking me up and down. “Over-the-clothes stuff, without a doubt. Probably a handjob, maybe oral.”
“If we’re handing out oral, I’m giving and receiving, baby. I’ve been thinking about your pussy since we met.”
Cameo’s breath catches. She glances at Hagan before looking at me with wide eyes. “Let’s skip that date thing. I’ll come back, and we’ll do your idea.”
