by Hope Stone
As a rule, I don’t like PDA. I’m the type of girl who keeps her head. But as soon as his lips brushed mine, I forgot everything. I forgot we were on the sidewalk outside of a club, which is such a painfully cliche place to make out. I forgot that he was a biker from the wrong side of town who probably had like five biker chicks on rotation.
I was only consumed with the flames of desire coursing through my blood as he pulled me tighter with a grip that was somehow strong as iron yet gentle.
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. Our thighs were a good ten inches apart, and yet I was aching with the desire to throw myself into his lap.
When he caught me looking at him, I quickly turned my head toward my phone. We were about five minutes from my place. I had put in his address as well. This whole night could end in five minutes. I didn’t have to be thrown for a loop by his spellbinding kisses. But then, I wouldn’t get to kiss him again. And I really wanted to kiss him.
I scoffed at my longing. I didn’t even know him. A laugh escaped my mouth.
“What?” Pin asked.
I shook my head and turned to him with wide eyes. “I just realized I don’t even know your real name.”
“Pin is a real name,” he said.
I clapped my mouth shut. I forgot how serious he took his biker club. I shouldn’t have disrespected his biker name.
I breathed a sigh of relief as he flashed me a kind smile.
“But my other name is Gabriel,” he said. “Gabriel Gallegos.”
“Gabriel,” I repeated. It suited him in a way. It was old fashioned and solid. Masculine but with a touch of class.
“I like it,” I said. “But I think I like Pin better.”
His face erupted in a smile so genuine that my heart started beating twice as fast. When had I become so soft and girly? When had I started obsessing over the way a man smiled?
I had friends who were like this. Who would describe the play by play of meeting a guy as if it was an epic saga? I always hid my eye-rolls. Because could one guy really be all that interesting? Could he be more thrilling than backpacking across Europe? Or living in a van in Alaska for a year? Or going undercover as a spy? Or one of the other thousand things I wanted to try in my life?
No. One guy could not be all that. He could not be my be-all, end-all.
It just so happened that maybe Pin was all that for this one night. Maybe. I glanced at him again. His knee was jiggling up and down in a restless motion.
I reached out and placed my hand atop his thigh. It was the first touch since our kiss had ended. He froze. When he looked at me, I lost my breath due to the intensity in his eyes.
The car pulled to a stop.
“This is me,” I said. “Do you wanna come up?”
His nod was quick and resolute. In times of uncertainty, I acted on instinct. It’s what made me a good PI. My instincts had gotten me out of tight spots more times than I could count.
It felt good to let go and just trust my gut.
I was almost shy as I led the way into my apartment. Most of the guys I hooked up with were business types from La Playa. I had never so much as chatted with a biker. His world had to be so different from mine.
He looked at my decor with interest. I mostly had maps. World maps, city maps. A schematic of the greater LA area. A California road map. I liked to think about how big the world was. But wall art didn’t hold his attention for long.
I stood in the middle of the room and looked up at him. He was three feet away, but somehow I felt his eyes assessing me. For once, I was at a loss for what to say. I usually had a quippy comment or a joke, but when faced with Pin, I drew a complete blank.
I didn’t need to speak though. He closed the distance between us in one stride, and we were kissing with a fervor. I pressed myself against his firm chest and tipped my neck back to give him easy access to my lips, but the contact wasn’t enough. I wanted more.
As if he read my thoughts, Pin placed one hand under my bottom and pulled me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist. The skirt of my dress slid up my thighs in a satisfying rush of silk. I grinned when I realized that his kisses were even better when our faces were at the same level.
He moved his lips away from my mouth and to my neck. I gasped in excitement as he expertly tickled the skin just below my ear. I wasn’t shy anymore. I wanted one thing: him.
His palms burned an imprint on my back, and yet I craved more. I wanted to feel his hands all over me. I captured his lips again and tried to pour all my yearning into my kiss. He let out a small groan of desire that thrilled me to my core, and then took a step forward.
He was stronger than I had realized. He wasn’t overly muscled, but he had a wiry form, as if he was all leather and iron instead of skin and bone.
“Bed?” he muttered. “Where is it?”
I pulled away, catching my breath.
“Through that door,” I said with a nod in the right direction.
In three long strides, he was kicking open my door, stepping into the darkness of my bedroom.
“Careful,” I giggled. “Don’t drop me.”
“I would never.” His words were mumbled, deep and sensual, into the hollow of my collarbone.
I squirmed with pleasure at just the sound of his voice. I had it bad for him, that was certain. I released his hips from my legs and hopped out of his arms.
He made a little humph of displeasure, but I wanted the lights on for this. I flicked the lamp beside my bed on and turned to look at him, illuminated in the soft glow. My breath hitched as I took in his hooded eyes, dazed with masculine desire. All for me.
I locked my eyes with his and didn’t blink as I slipped the straps of my dress off my shoulders, letting it tumble to the floor in a burgundy heap. I kicked off my shoes and stepped toward him, clad in only my black bra and underwear.
His eyes roved over my body, savoring every single inch as I closed the distance. I shivered with anticipation as he grinned when I started unbuttoning his shirt. He reached down to the buckle of his pants, but I swatted his hands away. I wanted to undress him myself.
I thought he might be confused, but his smile only widened. His chest was the same tanned brown as his face, but it had a soft thatch of dark hair. I skimmed my fingers down over his hard stomach and slipped them beneath the waistband of his jeans.
Then his hands were on me. One gripped my bare back, and the other placed on my ribcage, just below the hem of my bra. I kissed him again while I undid his belt buckle.
He let out something like a growl as his pants fell to the floor and then pushed me back towards the bed. I smiled. He wanted to take control. I could work with that. Something told me that he was going to be very good at this.
We tumbled onto the bed, and he rolled onto his back. In an instant, I was straddling him. His hands fell to my hips as if they belonged there.
I sat still and just looked down at him, taking him in. His skin seemed to glow with need, and his hair had long since fallen out of the neat side-part. He lifted his hips and shifted me, my mouth opening in delight as I felt the evidence of his want. He was so hard for me.
I leaned down and kissed him again. As I did, he started to pull my underwear down. I was about to ask him exactly how he planned to get them off of me while I was atop him, but before I could speak, he flipped me over onto my back, now on to. Without even thinking, I raised my hips so he could dispose of the underwear.
His lips skimmed over my skin. My neck, my shoulder, the hollow of my clavicle. He nudged at my bra and I suddenly grew desperate with impatience. I pushed him up just slightly and unclasped my bra, casting it to the side as quickly as I could.
I gripped his torso to pull him back onto me, arching my back with a sigh as his mouth found my right nipple. He licked and sucked with eagerness, even as his fingers expertly fondled my other breast.
I slid my hands down his back, enjoying the feel of his firm muscles, until I reached his boxer shorts. I yanked at the elastic
and pushed my hand underneath the waistband. I wanted to feel how hard he was.
He let out a groan against my breast as I slid my hand up and down his solid length. He wanted me badly, and my pussy throbbed with longing, already sopping wet for him. I pushed my hips up against his, encouraging him to take me then and there. Instead, he moved down, skimming his lips over my stomach until he reached my satin folds.
His tongue flicked my clit, and even as I whimpered in pleasure, I didn’t want him to feel obligated.
“Pin, you don’t have to,” I gasped.
“Be quiet,” he said. “I’ve been thinking of doing this all night.”
Flames erupted deep inside me at his words, and I lost all ability to speak as he sucked and licked with mounting intensity. Wave after wave of ecstasy washed over me until I was gasping for breath. I moaned and even begged. I would have been ashamed at how much I screamed for satisfaction, but I couldn’t think of anything but Pin and the way he was kissing and touching me.
I felt myself rising to a climax and I wove my fingers through his thick hair. His hands tightened on my thighs, as if he was determined to keep me close to him even as I bucked in physical delight.
“Oh God.” I moaned. “I’m so close.”
When I orgasmed, I saw stars. Pleasure coursed through my body as I rode the sensations higher and higher, lost in the sexual ecstasy.
That’s what I had wanted, all night as I had danced with Pin. I didn’t want to think about how he might bore me in a week, or consider how wise it was to hook up with a biker. I just wanted to chase the feeling of intimacy and sexual pleasure.
As I came back down, I slid my hands to his shoulders, trying to encourage him to move. He had given me so much, but I knew I wanted more. I wanted to give him what he had given me.
He rose up above me, a soft smile on his face. It wasn’t an arrogant grin, I could tell. He didn’t want a pat on the back over going down on me. He genuinely was pleased to see me so satisfied.
I pushed on his chest and sat up. He furrowed his brow in confusion, but rolled onto his back. I reached over and fumbled in my bedside drawer until I had pulled out a condom. He grabbed it from me and tore at the wrapper.
When he was ready, I straddled him again and sucked in my breath at the feel of his hard cock against my thigh. I whispered, “Is this ok?”
“Yes,” Pin said, eyes steady.
I smiled and slowly lowered myself onto him. He closed his eyes as I took him inside me, embedding him up to his hilt. He moaned as I rose up and down again, and I grinned at how much pleasure I was clearly giving him.
“Oh God, you feel so good,” he gasped.
I let out a sigh of victory as I positioned myself so he reached a spot deep inside me.
And then I let myself go.
I rode him hard as he bucked his hips to keep up with me. I kept riding him as he moaned. His hands ran up my hips to knead my breasts and then back down over my stomach.
When his panting reached a desperate level, I felt myself instinctively clenching around him, urging him onto his own climax. He cried out as he was pushed over the edge. I watched him spasm with pleasure and rode his orgasm out.
When he had finished, I leaned down while he was still inside me and placed a gentle kiss on his mouth. Then I rolled off him and onto my back. We lay in silence, a warm cloud of satisfaction enclosing us both.
I moved to my side, facing him and reveling in the warmth of his large body. He shifted closer to me and raised his arm. I didn’t usually cuddle, but his chest looked so enticing that I rested my head against him. I sighed as he wrapped his arm around my waist.
The exhaustion of the day caught up to me. Every second of the night, from Trey’s downfall to the dancing to the sex had been absolutely thrilling, but my energy had been expended.
I knew that maybe we should talk. I knew how to define hook-ups, I had plenty of practice. I needed to set boundaries. I needed to say something about how fun it was, so it would be clear that “fun” was all I was looking for.
But before I could speak, my eyelids drooped, and I fell into darkness.
Pin
I dozed for a little bit, the soft weight of Claire’s body a warmth that somehow captured my entire form, but a gut instinct woke me up in the small hours of the morning.
Some part of me knew it wasn’t healthy to linger. It encouraged clinginess and feelings. Sex was one thing, but actually sleeping together until the sun rose was another beast. You could fall asleep thinking one thing, and then wake up thinking quite another.
The sex had been amazing. Every second had been so fucking hot that I had almost thought it was a dream. But Claire’s gasps and moans and delightful little hands had convinced me it was all real. I had felt my soul shatter as Claire moved above me.
I didn’t want to admit it, but if I really looked back at my exploits, it would have been no contest. It was the best sex of my life.
But sex was just sex.
I needed to get out of there before it moved into something else. Something dangerous. As I lay there in the dark, Claire’s soft breathing tickling my ear, I refused to think about Sara and high school and my mom. I wouldn’t go there. I couldn’t.
As gently as I could, I shifted her away from me and onto the pillows. She didn’t even stir. I smiled to myself. It was no surprise she was a deep sleeper. When she was awake, she was so alive and buzzing with energy, it made sense that when she slept, it would be absolute.
Even so, I was careful to make as little noise as possible as I fumbled in my discarded pants for my phone while using the flashlight to locate the rest of my clothes. I did my best to not glance at Claire’s lacy black bra on the floor, but I wasn’t that strong.
My stomach lurched as I realized that I wanted to see her in that bra again. I wanted to take it off her. Again and again. That was why she was dangerous. That kind of deeper intimacy and emotion could only lead to pain.
I exited her room, finished getting dressed and headed for the door.
I didn’t look back.
The sun was peeking over the horizon when I finally made it back to my place. I had thought I might get a little more sleep, but I couldn’t settle down. I took a shower, changed my clothes, flipped through some accounting tasks.
Nothing held my attention.
Every time I blinked, images of Claire were seared on the inside of my eyelids. Claire perfect pink lips twisting into a smile as I held her. The curve of her pale shoulder. Her flushed face as she came down from the heights of her climax.
Even worse, I kept having nonsexual images too. Claire narrowing her eyes as she pulled out her camera to snapshots of Trey. Claire nodding in appreciation as Kim went in for the kill. Claire’s joyous and totally unselfconscious dancing.
A life with Claire would be fun. It would never be dull.
With Claire, it would be something indeed.
But no. I couldn’t think like that. That was just like my mother had been. She would have one good date with a halfway handsome guy, and all of a sudden, her head would be filled with daydreams. She would build him into this amazing person and picture this ideal life filled with perfect happiness for years to come.
But even when the guy would prove that he was no good, when it was clear that the years of happiness were going to be years of misery instead, my mother would still cling to her fantasies.
Not me. I didn’t make fantasies. I had not glorified anyone since Sara Garcia. She hadn’t been worthy of any pedestal, and neither was Claire.
Something within me flinched at putting Claire in the same sentence as Sara.
I groaned and collapsed on my couch. I flipped through the TV channels without aim for awhile, but nothing held my interest. I kept glancing at my phone where it sat on the table next to my couch. When would Claire wake up? Nine? Ten? Or did she sleep past noon after a night out?
When she woke up, would she wonder where I was? She had my number since we had texted to plan out
the fake date. Would she text me? Or would she shrug (it was just a casual hook-up after all) and slip into the shower. I felt a tightening of desire when I pictured her in the shower. I had to squash that urge.
Once the morning had faded into afternoon, I knew I had to get out of my apartment. I didn’t want to text any of my brothers in case they sensed my mental unrest and decided to get all nosy. I just wanted a bit of a distraction. Something to get my mind off Claire.
So I pulled out my drive and pointed my bike towards the auto shop. There had to be someone hanging out. And willing to talk about something other than women.
It occurred to me as I approached the back of the shop that Kim might be around. I knew she was no idiot. Everything had been a little blurry thanks to the alcohol, but I could have sworn Kim gave me a knowing look as she hopped into her car.
There were already too many people in my life that liked to play matchmaker, so I would not put it past Kim. For all I knew, Kim might have been orchestrating the whole night so that Claire and I ended up together at the end. I wondered if Claire had been in on it. Had she told Kim she wanted to be alone with me? Had Kim helped her achieve that goal?
Even more relevant, had Claire communicated with Kim after the fact? Girls did that. They got in touch as soon as the date or hook-up was over to dissect every little thing.
My mood darkened. Had the sex been good for Claire? Would she give Kim a favorable report? She must be texting someone because she certainly wasn’t texting me.
I cursed under my breath and reminded myself that I didn’t want her to text me or reach out at all. That was why I had left so early.
I cast furtive eyes around the shop as soon as I entered. No sign of Kim. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Pin, what up man?”
I turned and smiled at Moves as he strode out of the office. We clasped hands in greeting.
“Nothing much,” I said.
I followed Moves into the backroom where we both lolled on the ragged armchairs that had been dragged back there. He gestured to a small fridge. “You want a beer?”
