by Naomi West
“Nah, come on, let me buy you another drink,” Danny insisted, already flagging down the waiter and pulling out his wallet. “What are you drinking, anyway?”
“It's a cosmo for her,” the bartended said, looking a bit amused — whether at the drink or at the situation, I couldn't really tell. But inwardly, I was cursing the man. Couldn't he sense my distress? Couldn't he see that the last person a good girl like me should be going home with was…
Well, admittedly, Danny was pretty attractive. He could probably have his pick of anyone there in that bar, with that combination of devilish smirk and brawny muscles. But…
My parents had raised me believing that sex before marriage was a sin, but I didn't really believe in that. Sure, I was a good, church-going girl, but I didn't really think God was going to send me to burn for eternity in the pits of hell if I made love with someone who wasn't my husband. To be honest, I didn't think he really could care that much. With wars and poverty and so much other stuff going on in the world, surely who was having sex with whom would be beneath his concern?
Not that I'd ever say that to my parents, but I had to wonder if maybe the only reason I was pulling away from Danny right now was because of that ingrained response that sex before marriage was a big no-no. What did I care if I lost my virginity that very night? Wasn't this a special enough occasion? It was one of the first real adult parties that I'd gone to.
And I'd be going off to college in just a month; this was really one of my first tastes of what college was going to be like. I wanted to do things right, didn't I?
I made a split-second decision, smiling at Danny. “I've been drinking cosmos all night, but I think for a last drink, maybe I'll have a couple shots of whiskey. Neat.”
I definitely didn't need even one shot of whiskey at that point, but I wanted so desperately to fit in with the crowd. And a neat, double-shot of whiskey had always been my dad's drink—not that he or my mom drank very often, and especially not around me—so that was the first drink that came to my mind.
It was worth saying it, though, just to see the way Danny's eyebrows rose. “You heard her, Mac,” he said the to the bartender. “Let's make that two double-shots of whiskey, please. Can't leave the lady drinking whiskey on her own.”
I giggled a little at the fact that he had called me a 'lady' and didn't protest when he slipped an arm around my shoulders, leaning heavily against me. His fingertips were just brushing my breast, but I figured that was probably an accidental byproduct of the combination of our height and the length of his arm.
The bartender handed over our drinks, and Danny paid for them. Then, he turned to me, raising his glass. “To a pretty woman drinking whiskey,” he said, eyes twinkling.
I grinned hesitantly back at him, hoping that the taste wouldn't be too awful. But when I sipped at the stuff, I could feel my throat burning and had to fight back the urge to cough. God, that's nasty, I thought, but fortunately I managed to keep from saying that out loud.
“Ah, whiskey, what a lovely mistress,” Danny said pretentiously, a hand clapped over his heart, as though he thought he were some sort of poet or something.
I didn't roll my eyes, but just barely. And I still had most of the two shots left to drink.
Danny made small-talk as we continued sipping at our drinks, growing increasingly handsy as time went on—and by the end of it, although I was growing used to his poor attempts at conversation, his wandering hands were making me more and more uncomfortable.
“Look,” I said for the third time, making to leave, “I really need to be getting home. Thanks for the drink, but—”
Danny grabbed my wrist before I could move away from him, his expression stormy. “Hey now,” he told me. “That's not how this works.”
“How what works?” I asked angrily. “I'm tired, and it's the end of my night. Just because you bought me a drink, doesn't mean I have to stay and keep you company for the rest of the night. But if it really means that much to you, here.” I thrust twenty dollars at him. “That should cover it, right? Now—”
“No,” Danny said, crowding me back against the bar. “That's not how this works. I bought you a drink. You're coming home with me.”
“Uh, what Neolithic century do we live in?” I asked, trying to shimmy sideways. But he put his hands on either side of me, pinning me there. “Seriously, Danny, I'm sorry, but I really don't want to—”
“Yes, you do,” Danny informed me, arrogantly. He bent down and pressed his lips to mine, forcing entry into my mouth, pillaging with his tongue.
I pushed futilely against his chest, trying to get him away from me. But of course, I was no match for his size and muscles.
“Hey,” someone said from behind Danny, and the biker pulled away from me. There was another biker standing there, and holy hell, if I had thought Danny could have his pick of any woman in the bar, he had nothing on the newcomer. He had curly black hair and bright, sea-colored eyes. The man was a biker as well, but he just somehow seemed cleaner than Danny. Like he was somehow a better guy.
But at the moment, he looked practically murderous, scowling down at Danny. “The fuck did Marsha say again about coming on to people in here?” he spat. “You fucking scumbag.”
Danny shoved the man away, looking just as incensed. “Fuck off, Ryce. This is totally consensual. And none of your business.”
“Totally consensual, huh?” The man — Ryce, was it? — sneered at Danny. “Then why the hell does the girl look terrified? And why is she trying so desperately to get away from you? She's one step short of screaming, and you know that as well as I do.”
“Fuck off,” Danny repeated, shoving the other man again. But before he could say anything else, Ryce's fist snapped out and collided with his temple. He slumped to the ground, clearly out cold, and Ryce made some sort of a signal to the bouncer, who swooped in to scoop up the man's limp body.
Then, my savior turned to me, holding out a hand. “My name's Jake, Jake Ryce,” he told me. “Are you all right?”
Chapter Two
Jake
I fiddled with the old radio, trying to find a station that was playing something, rather than just trying to sell me a bunch of useless shit. God, I hated that stretch of the afternoon when radio companies seemed to think everyone was at work and they could just blast everyone with dumb talk shows and bullshit like that.
Finally, I found a decent classic rock station and left the thing on that, humming along under my breath to the Journey song that they were currently playing. But wouldn't you know?
As soon as that song was over, it was time for yet another commercial break.
I almost threw my wrench across the shop in frustration. The only thing that kept me from doing so was the reminder that if I chose to do that, I would only be making more work for myself — and we were working on a deadline that day. A deadline that I already wasn't sure I was going to be able to meet — at least, not unless I wanted to stay in the shop until midnight, which I definitely didn't.
I loved being the owner and sole proprietor of Reaper Custom Choppers and having the flexibility to schedule my own hours and hire whoever I really wanted to work with. That said, I was a bit of a workaholic, and that made owning my own business a bit of a nightmare. I had a really hard time pulling back and making time for myself…
“Hey boss?” Bryce said, poking his head around the door that led into the front office.
“What's up?” I asked, glancing over at him as I continued to tinker away at Lee's bike. It was probably an electrical issue, but I couldn't seem to find the source of it. All the lines seemed to be connected and working properly. But the engine just kept cutting out.
“There's someone here to see you,” Bryce said.
“I'm too busy right now,” I told him honestly, still unable to tear my eyes away from the bike. “Anyway, if the dude's got a problem with his bike, you're more than capable of handling it, aren't you? What am I paying you for, anyways?”
Bryce coughed a little, seeming uncertain — and that was in itself was weird. Bryce had long been his best friend, one of the only people he could count on other than the leader of his biker gang, Devil's Route. “Yeah,” Bryce said, a strange note in his voice. “See, I'd be perfectly willing to help her, only she isn't here about a bike. She's specifically asking to see you.”
I groaned and rolled my eyes. “Well, I'm busy,” I said again.
“I know,” Bryce said. “But maybe you want to at least arrange to get drinks with her or something like that later in the week?” He lowered his voice. “She's fucking hot, man. And I'd love to say that if you aren't interested, I'll get her digits for myself, but I already tried that tactic and she just laughed.”
I finally turned my attention away from the bike and turned to look at him, a frown on my face. “Did she say who she was?” I asked.
Bryce shook his head. “She just said that she knows you and has something really important to talk to you about.”
“Is she in Devil's Route, or—”
Bryce practically cackled at that. “Definitely not,” he told me. “Can't even imagine her on the back of a bike, let alone driving one herself, if I'm behind honest. Don't think I've ever seen her before in my life, either. No idea who she is or what she wants.”
I sighed, giving one last look towards the bike. Well, maybe I needed a break anyway. It might clear my head, give me some sort of brainstorm about just what was wrong with the electrical system. I could only hope…
“All right. Fine,” I said, wiping my hands off on a rag and heading towards the front office.
The woman was every bit as hot as Bryce had alluded. But just like he'd said, she looked nothing like a biker chick. She was sitting on the edge of the office couch, her hands folded demurely in her lap, a nervous look on her face. Her long, auburn hair was the most arresting part of her look — or maybe those witchy green eyes.
She stared up out of that pretty, heart-shaped face, and I could already feel myself growing half hard in my jeans, imagining what she must look like when she was giving a blow job. With those soft pink lips of hers… Well, it was like she was made for that.
She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place her. Maybe she was the friend of a friend, or the kid sister of one of my friends? Or maybe I had just seen her around town. I didn't know why she would have come looking for me in those cases, though.
“Hi,” she said, sounding a little shy. She took a few hesitant steps forward and held out her hand to me. “I'm Halley Talin. Not sure you remember me.” She gave a little laugh. “I mean, I'm pretty sure you don't remember me. Like, 99% positive that you don't remember me. I probably shouldn't have come to bother you at work. But—”
“You're the girl from the bar,” I said, suddenly able to place that face. Granted, that had been, what, five or ten years ago now? And a one night stand, to boot.
I frowned at her, a furrow forming between my eyebrows. Just what was she doing here? Did she think she could waltz back into town and booty call me in the middle of the day while I was at work? She honestly had never seemed like that kind of woman anyway, but this was just a little strange.
“I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here,” she said, and there was that nervous little laugh again. “To be honest, I don't really know what I'm doing here. I mean, I do, and I guess you remember me, so...” She fell quiet, scratching at the back of her neck. “God, I guess I should have figured out what I wanted to say before I got here. But I think if I'd given myself any more time to think about it, I would have chickened out.”
“Oh really?” I asked. I paused, wondering how much I wanted to reveal about the massive crush I'd had on her, about the measures I'd taken in the attempt to track her down. It was safe enough, I figured, to say that I had asked Tiffany about her. “Last I heard, you had moved to Louisiana or somewhere. Georgia, maybe? Are you back in the area, though?”
Halley looked surprised, and that made sense; Tiffany probably hadn't told her that I'd been asking, and she seemed to have left town in a hurry. Though, what did I know? I had only met her that one night, the first and only night of passion that we had shared, so for all I knew, that move could have been in the works for months. Something about the way Tiffany had said it, though…
“Yeah, uh, Louisiana,” Halley said, clearing her throat a little awkwardly. “I went to live with my grandparents down there. I had to sort out some personal things.”
“Oh?” I asked archly. I wanted to press her for details, but it wasn't as though I had ever really known the woman, other than carnally. It wasn't my place to pry. “Well, are you back up here for good, or just visiting?”
“I honestly don't know,” Halley said, sounding lost and unsure. She ducked her head a little. “I just had to get out of Louisiana.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” I said, unable to keep the hint of disdain out of my voice.
Halley laughed musically at that one, though. “No, it was nothing like that. I love it down there, I really do. But I just...” She rubbed awkwardly at the inside of her wrist. “Anyway, I should be back in town for at least a little while. And I just figured, well, I thought that maybe I'd stop by and reintroduce myself. Maybe, uh, give you my number, in case you were, y’know, interested. For some reason.”
I blinked at her, wondering how she could manage to be so incredibly forward and so incredibly shy at the same time. “Here,” I said, grabbing a black marker out of my shirt pocket and stepping forward. “Why don't I give you my number? Then you can call me if you figure out just what it is you're trying to say.”
She smiled a little at that, holding out her arm so that I could scrawl my phone number on the underside of her soft, pale arm. Oh, how I would rather be tracing that path with my tongue than the marker…
“So, I guess I'll be seeing you around, then,” he told her, nodding his head at her.
“Yeah,” she said faintly, biting her lower lip. “Yeah, I guess you will.” Without another word, she turned and strolled out of the shop, swinging her hips a little as she went, showing off her perfect curves in that cute little green dress of hers.
Bryce wolf-whistled as the door shut behind her. “Well, well, well,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Now remind me again, who the fuck is she?”
Chapter Three
Halley
I stared up at the dark ceiling, blinking away the after images of an incredibly steamy dream. I bit my lower lip, debating what I wanted to do. It didn't feel entirely right to bring myself off to thoughts of Jake, not when I was hoping to maybe see him around town. That felt a little too personal or too intimate. It felt as though I had no right to do that. Especially not when he still didn't know about…
I rolled restlessly to my side but then flopped back on my back. The house was entirely silent, I reasoned. Everyone was asleep, and it wasn't as though anyone ever had to know. And anyway, there was no harm in replaying memories from the best night of lovemaking that I'd ever had, was there? Granted, that night had been eight years ago.
Without conscious agreement from my brain, my hand strayed down between my legs, touching myself through the thin fabric of my panties before I dipped my fingers below my waistband and began stroking at the velvety skin there.
The images of that long-ago night were chaotic at this point, broken and half-remembered fragments that seemed almost as though they might have been a dream.
Then again, the evidence of that night — all the evidence that I would ever need — was asleep in the downstairs guest bedroom at my parents' place at that very moment.
I sighed, but I couldn't think any more negative thoughts as my fingers deftly played at my clit, stroking the nub until I was practically desperate with the need to bring myself off. Not that I'd been too far off to begin with after the sexy dream I’d had.
I could remember Jake's strong, sure, and calloused hands playing over my curves, stroking every inch of my tanned skin as though he might memoriz
e it all over the course of the night. And then, when he'd tired of using just his hands, it had been his mouth. His tongue had delved into every nook and cranny of my skin, and he had raked his teeth gently and carefully over all of the sensitive bits.
I touched the side of my neck, remembering the love bite that he had left there. At the time, I had thought that was the only tangible evidence of what we had done. Other than the fact that I had lost my virginity, of course.
I'd been in for a shock a month and a half later when I'd finally bucked up the courage to take a pregnancy test, having missed my period for too long already.
I couldn't help gasping as I slipped my fingers inside of my slick, molten core, and I quickly clapped my other hand over my mouth, trying to stifle my noises. My parents were literally right through the wall from me, and the last thing I needed was for them to hear me pleasuring myself.
