Biker's Virgin (An MC Romance)

by Claire Adams

A piercing, anguished, bone-chilling scream slashed through the air, and I knew instinctively she had seen their bodies…their tiny, burnt, unrecognizable bodies. They no longer had faces or features or hair; everything had been burnt off them, leaving behind only empty shells, husks of what they had once been.

  “Madness,” I muttered under my breath. “Complete fucking madness.”

  “Get in the truck and wait there,” Mel ordered me.

  We drove back to the station in complete silence. Usually if we’d had a successful stint, the truck was full of laughter, conversation, and exaggerated tales of our own heroic actions. But if we had lost anyone, the atmosphere was so potent with heavy emotion and sadness that you could cut it with a knife. We got to the station and then each disappeared to our separate corners to lick our wounds and get over the losses we hadn’t managed to prevent.

  I was sitting by myself in one of the bunks in the residential section of the fire station when I realized the only thing that might soothe me right now was hearing Megan’s voice.

  Acting on instinct, I picked up my phone and dialed her number. She answered almost immediately, and her tone was slightly panicked.

  “Phil?” she said.

  “Hi.”

  “What’s wrong?” she asked immediately before I had even said a word.

  “I… What makes you think something is wrong?” I asked.

  “The fact that you’re calling me at this time while you’re on duty,” she said. “And your voice. What happened?”

  “There was a fire at the tenement building on Pike. It’s the building that all the squatters live in.”

  “I know the one,” she acknowledged. “Were you able to put the fire out?”

  “We were.” I nodded. “But not before we lost two people.”

  “Oh God,” her voice was soft and earnest. “Phil…I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say anything,” I told her. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

  “You can’t save everyone, Phil,” she told me softly. “But the point is, you tried.”

  “Not hard enough.”

  “Don’t do that,” she insisted. “It won’t help.”

  “They were children, Megan,” I sighed. “The boy was only five, and the girl was only seven. They were tiny little kids who burned to death.”

  “Phil—”

  “I can still hear their mother screaming… It was the most terrible sound in the world.”

  “How long until your shift is over?” Megan asked.

  “Not for another eight hours,” I replied. “I won’t be home till after midnight.”

  “If you don’t mind some company, I’d like to be there when you come home.”

  The moment she made the suggestion, I felt better, and I could see a little light once more. “You can go a little earlier and wait for me at my apartment. The spare key is under the mat.”

  “I’ll do that,” she assured me.

  “You’ll be there when I get home?” I asked, desperately wanting to see her.

  “I will.”

  “You promise?”

  “Cross my heart,” she assured me. “I’ll be there waiting for you.”

  They were the most beautiful words I felt I had ever heard in my life. And suddenly, my heart didn’t feel quite so heavy and my day didn’t look quite as dark.

  Chapter Twelve

  Megan

  I found the key right where Phil said it would be. I walked inside the apartment and turned on the lights. Phil’s apartment was slightly bigger than Brent’s and in much better condition. But it also looked like it was barely used. The furniture was sparse, which might have been the real reason I considered this apartment to be slightly bigger, and Phil’s things were flung about the space in chaotic fashion.

  Unable to help myself, I started tidying up a bit, making sure not to invade his personal space. I just picked up the things that were out in the open and popped them back where they belonged. I laid Phil’s shoes by the door, his clothes in his bedroom, and I washed all the cups and plates and put them away in the cupboards. Once that was done, I did a quick sweep of the apartment and sprayed some air freshener all around. When I was finished, the apartment looked far better, and I was satisfied.

  I had opted to come over hours before Phil was due to show up, but I had wanted to do something special for him and figured a home-cooked meal might be just what he needed. I knew that he’d be late coming home, but I figured he could still eat it the next day.

  I had brought over some chicken and lasagna sheets because I found that even after a night in the refrigerator, lasagna was still just as yummy as the day before, at least in my opinion. I cooked the chicken, made a creamy garlic sauce to go with it, boiled the pasta sheets and then I began to assemble my lasagna before popping it into the oven.

  The smell of baking pasta in the oven made my mouth water, but I didn’t want to dig in without Phil, so I munched on the apples I had brought over. I ended up on the couch flipping through channels on the television, trying not to think about the two blackened bodies Phil had described to me. I couldn’t imagine having a job that put me in those types of situations. I kept seeing their mother in my mind’s eyes. She had no face, but I could hear her screams. It was the universal symbol of pain.

  As my mind began to dart from one bizarre thought to another, I felt myself slip into unconsciousness. It felt like one moment I had been falling into sleep, and the next moment the strong scent of coffee was slapping me awake. I darted upright, blinking against the artificial light.

  “Hey,” Phil’s voice was gentle. “It’s okay…it’s just me.”

  “Phil,” I said, trying to smile at him. “You’re back. What time is it?”

  “Twenty past twelve,” he replied.

  “Whoa…I’ve been asleep for hours.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad. I didn’t want you staying up for me. You should have used my bed.”

  “I wasn’t planning on sleeping,” I said, now feeling wide-awake.

  He was kneeling in front of me, handsome as ever. He looked tired, but he looked alert and wired. I could tell that the trauma and stress of his day would probably keep him awake all night.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again. He sighed and then shrugged. “I’m feeling pretty…blah,” he replied.

  “Have you eaten anything?”

  “No.”

  “I have homemade lasagna in the oven,” I said, remembering.

  “I smelled it the moment I stepped in here,” he said with a small smile. “And it smells amazing, but I think I need a shower first. I showered back at the station, but I think I need another one.”

  “Of course.” I nodded, as I rose, pulling Phil up with me. “Come on.”

  I led him to his own bedroom and turned to face him. He seemed a little unsure of what I was doing, but I went with it without bothering to explain. Slowly and deliberately, I removed his shirt and pants. I made him sit on the bed as I gave his shoulders a nice, long massage. When I started to feel him relax, I pulled him up and pulled off his boxers so that he was standing naked in front of me.

  I felt a tug of desire, but I controlled myself and led him to the bathroom. Phil’s bathroom had a shower that stood over a bathtub. I filled the tub with water and gestured to him to get inside. Once he was in, I started rubbing his body, pushing the warm water over his back and chest and caressing his skin in soothing circles. I could sense how at ease he was, and it made me happy to know I had brought that about.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, after a moment.

  “Does this feel good?” I asked.

  “It does.” He nodded. “But you know what it would make this bath even better?”

  “Tell me,” I said, willing to do anything to make him feel better.

  “If you were in here with me,” Phil said.

  I smiled, but I felt a sudden surge of self-conscious
ness engulf me. I wanted him badly, but I wasn’t as confident in my skin as I would have liked to be. The first and only time we had had sex had been sudden and unexpected. It had happened before my mind had had time to process anything, so there was no time to psyche myself out.

  “What’s wrong?” Phil asked, sensing my hesitation.

  “Nothing,” I said quickly.

  “Come on, Megan,” he said gently. “You can tell me.”

  I smiled self-consciously. “It’s just that… I guess I’m feeling a little shy.”

  “Shy?” he said in surprise.

  “Yes.”

  “You?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “Why is that surprising?”

  “Because you’re perfect,” he said simply. “And that should give you all the confidence you need.”

  “I’m hardly perfect,” I said, blushing slightly.

  “I’m willing to argue you on that.”

  “Please don’t,” I said quickly.

  “Come on,” he urged, taking my hand. “Join me.”

  Taking a deep, internal breath, I stood up as Phil leaned back in the bathtub and watched me closely. I pulled off my jeans and the t-shirt I was wearing. I felt slightly nervous, but he was looking at me like I was the most beautiful thing in the world and it gave me the boost of confidence I needed. That was the only reason I was able to pull off my bra and panties.

  “See?” Phil said the moment I was completely naked. “Perfect.”

  Smiling, I stepped into the tub and sunk down to meet him. He placed his hands on my hips and guiding me to him so that I was straddling him. The moment I reached his lap, I realized he was hard as a rock. That knowledge sent a thrill of desire shooting through my body, and I reached down and wrapped my hand around his erection.

  Gently, I teased my hand up and down his cock, taking pleasure in the way his eyes rolled back, and his mouth opened just a little. I leaned in and kissed him hard until we were locked in a passionate embrace that had us sloshing water out of the bathtub and onto the tiled floor underneath.

  With the utmost ease, Phil lifted me slightly and then pushed me down on top of him so that his cock slipped inside me. I gasped a little, but I was thrilled to discover that there was no pain this time. There was just the intoxicating feeling of being complete.

  He kept his hands on my hips, and with his help, I found my rhythm. I rode him back and forth and then up and down, slamming into his cock so hard that a huge amount of water was being displaced.

  Phil didn’t seem to care, and neither did I. I was just intent on enjoying this unbelievably intense experience. He pulled me towards him and with his face pressed up against my breasts, we came together, moaning and gasping and writhing around the compact space with pleasure.

  Eventually, Phil leaned back against the tub and smiled. His face was glistening with little drops of water, and I reached out and wiped them away with my hands.

  “Do you feel better now?” I asked, only half teasing.

  “I feel worlds better,” he replied. “Apparently, that’s what I’ve been missing all these years—you.”

  I cupped his face with my hand tenderly. Then I leaned in and kissed him slowly. His tongue traced my bottom lip and made me shudder.

  “Let’s get dry,” I said, pulling away.

  Reluctantly, Phil followed me out of the bathtub. We had to be careful not to slip on the drenched bathroom floor. We dried each other off and then got dressed. Instead of putting on my own clothes, Phil gave me one of his sweatshirts. It was only slightly too big for me, but it was warm and cozy, and it smelled like him.

  Phil put on his boxers, and then we walked into the living room again. I glanced towards the clock. “Maybe you should get some sleep,” I said. “It’s late, and you have work tomorrow.”

  “I have to be at the station by nine,” he replied. “Five, six hours of sleep is all I really need.”

  “How about some lasagna, then?” I asked.

  “My mouth is already watering.” I got out the lasagna and cut out two large pieces.

  We ended up on the couch with our plates. We kept the TV on, but neither one of us was really paying attention. After we were done with dinner, Phil turned off the TV and ran his hand up and down my exposed thigh suggestively.

  “You look good in that sweatshirt.”

  “Do I?”

  He smiled. “So good in fact that I kinda want to rip it right off you.”

  “That’s an oxymoron if I ever heard it.”

  He was leaning in to kiss me when I stopped him. “Wait,” I said gently.

  “What is it?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

  I bit my lip. “I have…a confession to make.”

  Phil’s expression went from curious to concerned. “Should I be worried?”“Uh… I don’t think so.”

  He gave me a nervous smile. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

  “It’s not bad,” I said quickly. “It’s just that… It’s something I should have told you at the beginning. But then everything happened so quickly that I never got a chance to tell you, and you shared so much of yourself with me that I feel it’s only fair that I come clean with you.”

  “Come clean?” He sounded alarmed. “About what?”

  I took a deep breath. “I’m a virgin. I mean, that is to say, I was a virgin before I met you.”

  He was silent for a moment. I was so nervous as to how he would react that I didn’t give him time to process my revelation.

  “Phil?”

  “Are you saying that the night we slept together for the first time…was your first time ever?”

  “Uh…yes.”

  Phil turned his hazel eyes on me, and I was powerless to look away. “I’m the only man you’ve ever been with?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before we slept together?”

  “I didn’t know it was going to happen,” I reminded him. “It just sort of… happened all at once.”

  “Oh God,” Phil said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” I repeated, in confusion. “Why are you apologizing?”

  “Because it was your first time,” he said. “It should have been different. It should have been special…slower…more tender than it was.”

  “I thought it was tender,” I said.

  “I was rough with you that night.”

  “You weren’t.”

  “Did it hurt?” he asked.

  “Just a little, at first,” I nodded.

  “I didn’t notice blood.”

  “There was a little in my underwear,” I said. “But nothing you would notice if you weren’t looking.”

  “It should have been different,” Phil insisted.

  “Hey,” I said firmly, jumping onto his lap and pulling his face to mine. “It was perfect to me. As first times go, ours was pretty special.”

  He smiled. “Is it wrong that I kind of like the fact that I was your first?”

  “No,” I laughed. “It’s not wrong.”

  “So, you don’t have a lot of experience with sex, do you?” Phil asked.

  I blushed slightly. “Not really.”

  “Well then,” he said, sliding his hand up my sweatshirt. “I’ll have to teach you.”

  I closed my eyes and leaned into him, ready to be taught.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Phil

  “Hey, Phil.”

  At first, all I heard was music. There was a sweet symphony in my ears, and it sounded like Megan. I was pillowed in a cocoon of my own making, and it was filled with all the things I had come to love over the years. I could hear the sound of the ocean, the smell of salt and fresh bread and trees after the rain.

  “Phil.”

  Her voice was like honey, and it warmed my soul. She started to materialize above me, taking shape as thousands of beads of light came together in her image. Her eyes were rich amber, her hair was sunshine gold, and her smile was like Christmas morning. I reached out to touc
h her, but I wasn’t sure if I could. She was unreal, not of this world, but it was enough to know that I could at least see her.

  “Phil.”

  Her voice was getting stronger, clearer, and more human. I frowned in my sleep. Was it possible that I wasn’t dreaming her? I wondered. I tried to open my eyes, but they were still heavy. To be honest, I wasn’t trying too hard because I wanted to make this feeling last forever. I didn’t want to lose her—it had taken me a lifetime to find her in the first place.

  I felt a kiss on my brow, and my heart fluttered. I felt her lips travel to my cheeks and then finally to my lips. It was the gentlest kiss I’d ever received, and I knew for sure now: she couldn’t be anything but an angel. Only an angel could kiss like that. I sighed in contentment and closed my eyes fully.

  And then I felt a sharp knock on my arm and my eyes flew open as my protective cocoon fell away. I darted upright and came face to face with the angel from my dreams.

  “Megan?”

  “Good morning.” She smiled, in obvious amusement.

  I blinked again and looked around. “What time is it?”

  “It’s eight-twenty.”

  “Really?” I gasped, nearly jumping out of bed.

  “Don’t worry,” Megan said quickly. “You have plenty of time to get to the station.”

  “Still, I like taking my time in the morning.”

  Megan laughed. “In my defense, I’ve been trying to wake you up for nearly fifteen minutes.”

  Megan followed me to the door of the bathroom as I proceeded to brush my teeth. “How did I not wake up earlier?” I asked. “I set the alarm.”

  “You slept right through it,” she told me. “It woke me up, though.”

  I finished brushing my teeth. Then I washed my face quickly and turned to Megan. “I slept through it?” I asked again, in disbelief.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve never slept through my alarm,” I said. “That thing is fucking loud.”

  “Oh, trust me, I know,” she nodded. “Nearly scared the life out of me. Finish up in here. I’ll get breakfast on the table.”

  Before I could stop her, she had turned and left me alone. I hopped into the shower and turned the water on without bothering to wait for the warm water to come in. Apparently, I had been so comfortable that not even my alarm had managed to wake me. I knew it was a direct result of having Megan with me. I remembered vaguely curling up against her in the night and having the warm curve of her pressed up against me.