by Amber Burns
A lot had changed since then. His military years had changed him so much, that it felt like the dreams he had once cherished belonged to a totally different person. That was when he had found his new passion – the freedom that the two wheels had given to his soul.
“I do, baby,” he eventually spoke.
A pair of huge green eyes looked at him. He adored the golden sparkles in them. He was not going to speak of his theory of hiding the dream inside. She did not need to be haunted by the ghosts of unfulfilled dreams. There was suddenly a tiny hope flaming in them. He had never spoken much about his past. She probably thought being a tattooed thug on a bike was all he had wished for.
“You wouldn’t think it’s weak to abandon a dream then?” She asked, hurriedly putting another broccoli into her mouth. Rage smiled.
“Well, as you said, you are not abandoning the dream; it has changed into a new one, right?”
Damn, this was a thin ice they were talking on. He knew it was unfair to be so careful and protective of her, but all his alpha male instincts kicked in when he saw her sad and miserable. He hated it. He wanted the shining ballerina, who stole and broke the hearts of her audience, who flew so easily across the stage. He sat on a stool and pulled her into an embrace. He inhaled her scent – lilacs, as usual.
“I can’t dance, Rage. It’s too painful to admit it, but it is even more painful to continue knowing that I will never be as good as I once used to be. I can’t go on like this,” her voice trembled as she buried her face into his chest.
Rage wrapped his arms tightly around her. His mind raced, trying to pull together the appropriate words when he suddenly remembered that day many months ago when he made her pack and come back to New York, to never give up. What if he had been wrong all this time? What if it was his fault that she was facing this broken dream right now?
Rage had never forgiven himself for betraying his own dreams. He thought he had been caring for her as he pushed her toward her dream, as he made her fight for it. But now, all of a sudden, making her attempt and fail felt so unfair. For once in his life Rage though that maybe his overprotection had done more harm than he ever thought possible. He should let her do her own mistakes, instead of making her avoid those that he had done.
He looked into her eyes. The tears had made the green-gold shine even brighter.
“You can do anything you set your mind on, Adel, I believe in you,” he knew he was telling her the truth.
Unlike Dave, she had tried. Unlike him, she had not tried to hide from her dream, even if it had been him forcing her to keep on going.
“You really think so?” She cupped his face in her delicate hands.
Would he every stop worrying that she was too fragile and could be broken? She was not a music-box crystal ballerina after all, but a woman. A strong woman that he truly admired.
“Even if I say that I want to go back home? Even if I am not sure how I want to go on?” She questioned.
"But you do want to go on, don't you?" He smiled and she smiled back at him. That smile lit the kitchen and his whole world.
“Yes. I will just need to think of something else I can do. Something that I can do at its best, where I will not feel mediocre or half-fulfilled,” she explained.
How could he ever doubt the willpower of his woman? Rage looked at her with admiration. She could do anything – he believed in that. He let go of her and returned to the abandoned vegetables. He had to let her go, he knew it, however painful it was to admit. The least thing she needed was him protecting her from her own choices. A long silence fell between them. He could only hear the sound of his knife sliding through the vegetables and hitting the cutting board. It clicked too loudly betraying his desperation.
“But I’ll need you, Dave,” she broke the silence.
Adel had walked across to where Dave was working. She was only inches away from him. She leaned against his back and wrapped her hands around his waist, burying her nose into his back.
“Please, tell me you’ll stay by my side,’ she whispered.
“Always.”
Dave had always thought he was a tough guy, but only now, feeling at his lowest, realizing how broken he had been all these times, he had found the strength he needed in the arms of his beautiful delicate woman. Two broken dreams, put together, suddenly blazed with renewed power and energy. Rage knew they would overcome any hardship and build as many new dreams at they wished.
11
"And now you, bro, are a ballerina," Stalk teased as he watched Dave climb on his bike. He had finished his work at the club and nothing was going to stop him from rushing to his new workplace.
“This particular ballerina is very capable of breaking your nose if you don’t shut up and step out of my way,” he growled.
Not that he needed to prove his strength to his best friends, they had had years of that when they were younger. Yet, right now Stalk was the only living body literally standing between his bike and the woman he wanted to be with at this very moment without wasting another second. Stalk raised both arms in surrender.
“Alright, alright, lover boy. But never forget who you should thank for getting your ass to the date with that ballerina in the first place,” he said pointing his finger at Rage’s chest.
‘Would you ever let me forget that?” Rage snorted and without wasting another blink started his bike. Jokes like this were a common thing at the club. Stalk wouldn’t be the ace he claimed to be if he didn’t react immediately and jumped out of his way.
Good. Rage was in a hurry. A certain ballerina was waiting for him after a long happy working day.
It had taken them months to find that new purpose - a new dream. He had never seen Adel as determined as she was when she decided to start a ballet studio to teach what she loved the most – the passion for dancing.
“A perfect dream can be shared by two,” she had told him, as she asked him to help her make a business proposal to get financing.
That perfect dream had once again brought them together. Rage thought there was nothing as intimate as achieving a dream together with a loved person.
As he ran up the stairs, he could hear the melody she had been rehearsing with her group for weeks now. Every day, they could see dozens of sparkling eyes flamed with love to what they were doing. This afternoon, though, as he opened the door to the classroom he found no kids inside. Instead, he found the ballerina of his dreams – wearing a tutu made of red tulle. He had once told her about the dream that had been haunting him for many nights while they were separated. Dave's breath caught as he saw the woman from his dreams here – in the room lit in the glow of twilight dancing for him.
“Dance with me?” she asked as she circled around him, the tulle of her dress brushing against his leather pants. Her green eyes sparkled with dangerous light – he knew there was definitely something on her mind.
“Nah, I’d rather watch you,” he said. And those were the words that predicted his doom. She had definitely counted on them.
She turned him to face the wall fully covered with mirrors.
“Then watch me,” she whispered into his ear. “Watch me take care of you.”
After an elegant plié, she sank down onto the floor and grabbed his hips with both arms. Rage let out a surprised groan. In the past months, his shy ballerina had grown much more daring in their bed, but never could he imagine that she would decide to throw such a performance to greet him as he got back from his work.
Unable to tear his eyes off the mirror, he watched as her jaw rubbed over him through the rough leather. He wished she would rip the pants apart, as he was growing hard and too excited inside. Adel had also learned the art of teasing and torturing. Her tongue brushed up and down the painfully growing bulge, making delicious moans, as her pink lips touched the black leather. She looked up into his eyes and smiled wickedly.
Every cell in Rage’s body screamed at him to grab her into his arms and fuck her as hard as he could. Seeing her kneeling in fron
t of him, playing with his cock trapped in his now-too-tight pants, feeling her arousal – everything he watched in the mirror was driving him mad with desire. Rage wanted all of that. Right now.
“I can’t wait longer, baby, you should do something, or else, I’ll have to do you,” he hardly finished his words, as she unzipped her pants and the cool air kissed his overheated cock. A moment later a warmer sensation covered him, as her warm breath puffed over his sensitive skin.
A tiny pink tongue slid out from between her sweet lips. After licking and wetting her own lips for unbearably long moments, she came closer. She licked him all the way from his painfully tight balls to the hot purple head, which was already covered with several shiny drops of pre-cum. Adel hungrily licked them and moaned enjoying his taste. Her head dropped back, letting him see the pleasured look on her face.
Rage sucked sharply through his gritted teeth. He would need all the willpower in the world to survive him.
Her icy fingers found their way to his balls, pinching them until he was hissing with delight and thrusting himself beck into her mouth. Then, she gladly took him in. Her tiny mouth looked adorable stretched widely around his manhood. To suit his girth, she had opened her lips as wide as she could and was breathing harshly with every thrust. Her tongue danced around him, covering him in her heat.
His hands moved to her head on their own accord. He ran his fingers through her soft long hair but did not dare to grab her and pull closer. His cock desperately needed it – to be buried in her mouth so deep that with every thrust he hit at her throat. Instead, he placed both hands on the cool surface of the mirror and enjoyed the torturous slow licks and suction.
All this time, it had always been about her. He never minded being the partner who loved more, but now, as she looked up at him through her hooded eyes, he could see so much care in them. His heart beat widely.
He was loved – the thought suddenly crossed his mind and Rage leaned his forehead against the cold mirror to prevent him from bursting out in tears. All the ballet and classical art were making him too soft hearted.
Feeling the change in his emotions, she intensified her action. Adel grabbed the base of his cock in one hand and started stroking him as her mouth moved up and down along him in faster movements.
She moved her free hand up her bare thigh and it slid under her skirt. Goodness, she was not wearing anything under the skirt. As her body jerked, he would only imagine the wet cinnamon depths which swallowed her fingers. She was fingering herself while sucking his cock in her mouth. Rage was about to lose his sanity.
After several thrusts, that naughty hand slid out and ran run up his chest. Dave caught it into his. He leaned and kissed her fingers. They were coated with her flavor and he licked them clean. Then, bringing her fingers to his heart, he let her feel his wild heartbeat as she sucked him. Their fingers linked on his heart, she kneeling in front of him in her red tutu – Rage now was sure he had died and was sent to heaven.
The warm hungry mouth around him suddenly pulled away and he popped out of that blessed warmth with loud wet sound. Rage opened his mouth to protest, but again he was not given any moment to do that. She turned his body so that he was leaning against the mirror with his back and hopped on him.
With arms wrapped around his neck and her legs around his waist, she looked into his eyes as she licked her lips before speaking.
“And now we are going for the ride of our lives,” she whispered into his mouth. Rage swallowed her sweet breath and caught her in a deep kiss.
Securely supporting her weight holding her under her buttocks, he felt her wet heated pussy brush against his head. With him holding the balance, she was free to dance on his body. Her breasts, trapped in the red tank top, rubbed against his leather cut, her ankles sank into his butt. With the music still playing, Adel easily moved under the tune, making sure to hit and rub all the right spots on their bodies.
The mirror on the opposite wall showed him a beautiful couple engaged in an energetic bold dance and passion – they were dancing after all. And that was the most beautiful thing Dave ‘Rage' Carter had ever seen in his life.
She slowly pushed him in never tearing away her eyes. Their bodies became one again – a sensation, that was so familiar and natural now. As they lost themselves in the long passionate dance, giving and taking control of their join bodies, kissing and sharing all of those blazing sensations, as a strange thought crossed Rage's mind.
For the first time in many years, he had learned to be happy and he could he could see the same happiness in her eyes. Happiness that was not clouded by fears of failure and disappointments of past mistakes. They were simply happy. Dave kissed her tenderly. A biker and a ballerina, he remembered Stalk teasing him, that’s fucking epic, my man!
Bad Boy Confessions – The Waitress
By Amber Burns
Published by Scarlet Lantern Publishing
Copyright © 2017 by Amber Burns
& Scarlet Lantern Publishing
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language.
All characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
1
“Yo man, we’re hungry!” Beaker, one of my closest friends, yelled from beside me.
I shook my head, yelling back with plenty of scorn. “You’re always hungry.”
Beaker grinned good naturedly, nodding to the next off ramp. “Let’s go scare up some grub.”
I conceded with an eyeroll. “Not like it’ll be hard all we have to do is let them see you.”
Beaker reached over precariously to punch me in the shoulder, smirking and saying the two words every man loves to hear. “Race ya.”
We set off at a speed that would warrant arrest on the Autobahn, howling like a pack of hyenas with the rest of the gang shooting along behind us. The first place we found was some small town diner with a sign claiming America’s Best Pie. It had a homey feel, sort of like grandma’s kitchen. The booths were faded and worn and the tables were covered in those weird plastic table cloths but overall it was a nice place.
Immediately, I scoped out the place for trouble. This place had a couple old guys at the counter and an old lady on the other side of the room with what looked to be a waitress. Nothing too interesting, certainly nothing dangerous. In my initial survey I almost missed her, her hair pulled back into a braid, several strands stubbornly pulling out and framing an innocent face. She looked up, startled, as we entered; immediately seeking shelter in the kitchen. The movement caught my eye more than anything.
“Sit down, you animals.” I ordered immediately.
The gang dropped into seats around me, taking up nearly half a dozen booths. Beaker took the seat behind me, throwing his arms out and winking at the older woman coming towards us. I smacked the back of his head, raising my voice.
“Shut your damn mouths and respect the lady.” I banged the table in front of me, knocking over the salt shaker. This lady obviously didn’t fear us as she took our orders.
Miranda was her name and she was definitely not a shy thing at all. Not like her niece, as I found out. Several minutes after delivering a round of beers she was called away to argue with a local about something or another. I found that to be the perfect time to call for a refill.
“Waitress! Refill please!” I smirked, my eyes on the girl cowering behind the counter.
She glanced at her aunt, who had both hands and a pocket full with the cranky old man on the other side of the diner. The beautiful girl walked out from behind the counter, her waist accentuated by the apron tied around her. She was timid as a mouse, watching for any movement, ready to run at the first sign of danger.
“Um… another Bu
d Light’s okay, right?” She asked timidly.
I grinned at the gentle southern twang in her voice. I nodded, stopping her from leaving. “Just a minute. My name is Chase, and you must be Cinderella.”
The pretty girl blushed profusely, mumbling something under her breath and fleeing to the shelter of the kitchen. The boys around me howled with laughter until I shut them up.
Miranda sent me a heavy glare from her side of the diner, firmly excusing herself and delivering my beer herself. I chugged the bottle, two beers would never get me drunk, and stood up to leave.
“That was great beer, Miranda. I’ll be back tomorrow for a proper meal.” I glanced at my boys, stuffing their faces with good old fashioned southern food. “If one chair is out of place in here tomorrow I’ll have your hides.” I growled quietly. Nods all around, some frowns.
