by Zoey Parker
This isn’t about sex, I admonished myself, but even as I did it, I couldn’t deny that I wanted her. It was like I had a one-track mind when it came to my sexy little Carol.
Her expression spoke volumes about what she was feeling, the conflict written across her lovely features. She sucked on her lower lip; it drew my attention immediately, desire coursing through my veins, but my reaction was more tender and less lustful, a surprise for us both.
I took one hand off her ass and moved it to her cheek, cupping her face. My thumb moved slowly and gently stroked her lip, freeing it from her teeth. I looked at her in all seriousness and said, “Don’t make a decision yet. Take some time. Think it over.”
She looked at me as though maybe she’d never seen me before, seriously considering what I was telling her. I thought for a moment I’d won her over and convinced her, but then she shook her head. She pulled away from me, planting her hands firmly on my chest and pushing. She got up off of my lap, her absence immediately noticed and greatly missed, my hard-on throbbing with want for her.
Shaking her head, she played with the end of her ponytail, reminding me that though she was a woman, she was young, too. Very young. “You don’t understand. It’s not really about what I want—I don’t know what I want. But I don’t have a choice anyway. My father would never be okay with this. He would disown me as soon as he found out about the baby! I’d be kicked out of the house with nowhere to go.”
Her voice was rising in volume, the panic plain in it now. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and I saw tears brimming. Instantly, I was up and off of the couch. Crying women were not my strong suit, but I could remember my mother and comforting her when things all seemed to go wrong. I could remember that sometimes just having someone there was enough.
I hoped it would be now.
I went to her, placing my hands on either of her delicate shoulders, stepping close enough to her that I felt her body heat radiating off of her. She smelled sweet like flowers, reminding me of our night together and how desperately I had wanted her.
A baby was not what I had planned for my future. Even though I’d been considering settling down lately, this was not what I’d had in mind. I’d been thinking a partner and maybe eventually a baby, but not all in one fell swoop. And certainly not in the shape of a nineteen-year-old woman.
She was barely a woman at all! Old enough to screw, but not old enough to deal with the consequences, I realized belatedly. But while I was lucky enough to have the option of just walking away from the whole thing, she did not. She was stuck, bound by her situation, and I was starting to realize that all her family’s money—because I knew they had it, even if I didn’t know which family was hers—wouldn’t fix the mess she’d gotten herself into this time.
I hadn’t been looking for someone to take care of, but here she was on my doorstep, and I couldn’t turn her away. “Carol, give me a week. Don’t tell your father, don’t tell anyone, but give me a week. Let yourself think about this and let me show you that there are other alternatives.” Even I wasn’t sure what they were at this point, but they were there, and there was a strange stirring within me that made me want to tell her I was one of them.
I couldn’t be sure, but I had to find out and to do that, I needed time.
She was shaking her head. “You don’t understand, if my father finds out—”
“He won’t.” My tone was firm and decisive. “He won’t find out, and you won’t stay with him anyway. You’ll stay here, with me. Until you decide.”
She stared at me then, surprise written across her features. She seemed unable to figure out what to say in response to that. But I could see her mind working, considering, thinking it over. Uncertainly, she asked, “Why are you doing this? Why would you want this baby?”
I hesitated. I wasn’t really sure that I wanted this baby—in fact, I probably didn’t—but I didn’t want her to get rid of it either. It was my responsibility either way, and if in the end, she decided she didn’t want it, then I would support her, whether I liked it or not. But I didn’t want her to make some rash decision because she was scared. Maybe if I could get her away from her father for a little bit, she might have some space to breathe and think. Maybe she could realize what she really wanted, whatever that was.
As for me, well… If it came down to it and she kept the baby, then maybe I’d keep her around. Maybe she could be my ticket to making the Anarchy’s Horsemen view me as the kind of leader they wanted to follow. Maybe she would be the “settling down” image that I needed. At least for a little while. Once I got things under control with them, maybe we could figure out a different arrangement.
You can’t use her like that, I thought, berating myself, but I figured I was as much entitled as she was. She’d used me that night, and she was here only because she wanted money, nothing else. I would do her a favor; she could do me one, too.
“I just want you to have a choice,” I finally said, pulling her to me, so we were pressed together, reminding me of the need she always seemed to bring out in me. “And maybe I want you to think of me as one of those choices.”
She thought about it a moment longer, then she put her hands on my waist and stood on her toes so she could reach me. She pressed her lips to mine and kissed me, uncertain and gentle. I was the one who turned it into passion. I held her close to me and pressed my mouth against hers hungrily, sliding my tongue along her lips to ask for entrance. When she parted them, I dove in to taste her again, her flavor just as sweet as I remembered.
When we broke apart, I told her, “Stay with me. Just for a week. Then, if you still want to get rid of the baby, I’ll take you to do it.”
She nodded once. “Okay. I’ll stay, just for the week.”
Chapter Eight
Asher
“You can sleep in here,” I told Carol, taking her down the hall to the spare bedroom. It wasn’t the nicest place in the world, but it was clean, had a bed, and she wouldn’t be disturbed by anyone else. “The bathroom is just across the hall.” I pointed back over my shoulder with my thumb.
Carol fidgeted. She crossed her arms beneath her full breasts and propped herself on one hip. “Are you sure about this?” she asked me. The urge to kiss the worry right off those lips was pretty intense, but I ignored it. There would be time for that later, I promised myself.
“Yeah, why not? No one else is using it.”
She looked over at me, considering. “I should at least pick up some clothes from home,” she said, sounding uncertain. “I didn’t really bring anything. I wasn’t expecting this.”
I thought about that. Of course, she was right. There was no way she could wear the same clothing every day for a week. That was downright ridiculous. A sly smile spread across my face as I thought of alternatives to that. Most of them involving her not bothering with little things like clothing. I was pretty sure I could find some things for the two of us together that wouldn’t require any sort of attire.
Clearing my throat, I reminded myself this was about the baby and giving her enough time to think about what she really wanted.
And what I really want, I added silently.
A baby probably wasn’t it, but how could I just ignore the possibility after my lieutenants all but ordered me to go knock someone up and then lo and behold I do just that? And she shows up on my doorstep, making me think maybe someone somewhere out there is trying to not so subtlety tell me something.
Or maybe it was just all in my head. Either way, I just needed a damn minute to think things through. I probably wasn’t going to want to keep it, and neither was she, but a week was a short time to give yourself for a little peace of mind later on.
“I can get you some things,” I said finally, finding both my voice and my filter. I didn’t want to say anything that was going to send her packing before she’d even unpacked, so to speak. “It’s not like you need a lot. It’s only a week.”
She looked unconvinced but lifted her shoulders. “Okay. Well,
I need panties and bras and a couple pairs of pants and shirts…” She continued to list off what she’d need, clothing, toiletries, the whole nine yards, but I wasn’t listening. I’d gotten lost somewhere around bras.
The bulge in my jeans was straining again, reminding me that I hadn’t taken care of it earlier, despite my increasing desire to do so. I hadn’t wanted to scare her off downstairs or make her change her mind about the week, so I hadn’t pressed our kiss into something more, but it wasn’t for lack of desire.
“Hey, did you get all that?”
I blinked at her, focusing on the here and now. She was waving a thin, delicate hand in front of my face to get my attention. I might have been a little embarrassed if she weren’t blushing a little, like maybe she’d figured out what I was thinking.
“Why don’t you make a list,” I suggested rather than admitting that I’d zoned out imagining her in bras and panties and then nothing all over again. “Include sizes,” I added, letting my gaze drop down the length of her body, focusing on her full breasts and those hips that were not in the least disguised by that pretty little periwinkle dress of hers.
She straightened herself up, then nodded. “Fine.” She turned then to head into her new room, but paused, lingering in the doorway. Looking back over her shoulder at me, she asked, “Are you sure you want to buy all of this stuff? I mean, I have all of it at home…” She trailed off and shrugged.
It was true: she had all of that at home. And probably her clothes were going to cost a small fortune thanks to how women’s clothing worked these days, but I’d rather pay it than have her go home. It seemed stupid, but I had the sense that if she went home, there was a very real possibility she wouldn’t come back here. She’d end up talking herself out of our little one-week deal, probably come clean with daddy dearest, and get rid of the baby in a matter of hours.
And when I thought of it like that, it seemed a fairly small price to pay.
“I’m sure,” I told her firmly, leaning against the doorframe, watching her. “In fact, I think we should get you settled in here and then you should come with me to go shopping. Forget the list. You can go try things on.”
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, but I felt a grin spread across my lips. This was a great idea, I suddenly realized. If I took her shopping with me, then she’d get the chance to try everything on, and maybe if I snuck into the dressing room with her… I imagined pressing her against the wall in the dressing room. There’d be mirrors, and I could watch her as I drove myself inside her. Definitely an enticing thought.
Yes, that was definitely what I was going to have to do.
“You want to take me shopping?” she asked suspiciously.
I nodded. “I do. I probably wouldn’t pick out the same things you would, and I want you to be comfortable.” I also want the chance to fuck you in the dressing room, but I had a feeling I’d have better luck convincing her to do something like that when we were there, rather than here and now where she would have a chance to be more reasonable.
She mulled it over in her head, then shrugged her shoulders. “Sure, I guess.” She hesitated, then said, “Can we go to that mall over in Wilmot? I know it’s a bit of a drive…”
I shrugged. “Sure, that’s fine.” In fact, now that she’d suggested it, I thought it was a really good plan. Around town, people knew me. The wrong kind of people. Although I was trying to debate whether or not I wanted her in my life—or the family and the stability she promised—I wasn’t sure if I wanted to throw her to the wolves. There were dangerous aspects of being the head of the local motorcycle gang, and I wasn’t interested in passing those on to her. Not if she wasn’t going to stick around.
She asked to use the bathroom to freshen up, then we headed out. We took her car because she insisted. “There’s no space on a bike for shopping bags,” she told me, and I conceded the point, though I was suddenly uneasy about just how much she intended to buy.
Wilmot was half an hour outside of town. It was one of those oddball places that were between one tourist town and the next. Mostly it was a set of chain restaurants set up to look like old-timey tourist traps and a few strip malls with overpriced clothing. Some of the shops were really decent, I’d been told, but I never cared for shopping enough to deal with the drive, the tourists, and whatever else went along with that.
Now that I was thinking about it, I wondered vaguely why she was so interested in shopping there. It wasn’t exactly a super-rich kid kind of place, though they had a few nice shops. And Carol definitely seemed like the super-rich kid kind of girl.
We pulled into the parking lot behind Cece’s, some clothing store Carol recognized. I didn’t, which was probably a good thing.
I walked into the store and was instantly grateful that I hadn’t dressed in all leather like some of the guys did. The place wasn’t the ritziest place in the world, but they were already eyeing the tattoo on my arm and the stubble growing along my jaw. As soon as they saw Carol, however, they were all too happy to smile and be polite.
“Hello there, Miss—”
“Carol.” Carol’s voice was sharp and urgent.
The saleswoman looked thoroughly surprised, causing me to glance at the beauty beside me curiously. What was that all about? I wondered but didn’t comment.
Carol laughed a little, waving her hand dismissively. “Sorry. I’m feeling a bit off today.”
The saleswoman smiled at her. “Of course, Miss—er, I mean, Carol. Is there anything I can help you with today?”
Carol nodded. “Yes. I need to pick up a few things for a little vacation I’m taking. I was in a hurry and didn’t really pack appropriately, so I thought I would just get a few more things.”
The woman’s smile never faded. “Of course. Shall I bring some things to the fitting room for you?”
Carol nodded, then before the woman could scurry off, she put a hand on her arm and said, “I was thinking jeans? Maybe something in black? And some shirts. Whatever you think is appropriate.” Her eyes darted to me, then back to the woman. “I’ll need some lingerie, too.”
The woman nodded eagerly, looking pleased rather than frazzled to be collecting so many items for Carol. I thought this was weird, but then I’d never worked in this type of a retail store. In my line of work, you came in, you browsed, then you paid me to carve a design in your skin with a needle and some ink. Not exactly the same kind of store.
“Let’s go to the dressing rooms. She’ll bring some stuff over for me in just a minute.”
I shrugged and followed Carol as she led the way to the back where the dressing rooms were. Which told me she had probably been here before. I frowned, considering that. Did that mean the saleswoman back there knew her? And if that was the case, what had that whole thing been about in the first place?
When we got to the rooms, and Carol picked a large one with three mirrors in it and a bench seat, I remembered why I’d decided this was such a good idea. I saw her three mirrored images as she examined herself in them, checking out her rear and adjusting the way her breasts were squeezed into her bra.
I felt my cock grow in my jeans but tried to keep my desire tempered. There wouldn’t be any point in going in there with her now; she didn’t have anything to try on.
It didn’t take long for the saleswoman to come over to us. Her arms were full of different articles of clothing, mostly in dark colors, though I saw a few bright reds, something gold, and a blue color in there, too. I noticed several bras and panties in the same colors dangling from the woman’s long fingers. She brought them all to Carol’s dressing room.
“I think you’ll really enjoy these. I brought in some of our newest jeans, and you’ll really enjoy the silky quality of our blouses,” the woman gushed proudly, hanging them up on the hooks in the dressing room.
Carol quickly examined a couple of them and smiled at the woman. “These look wonderful. Thank you. I’ll give you a call if I need anything else.”
Effectively dismissed, t
he woman agreed and left the two of us alone, but not without giving me the stink eye. Although she seemed fond of Carol, she didn’t seem to care for me all that much. I smirked as she left. She wouldn’t be the first woman who didn’t care for me because of the way I looked. I had bad boy written all over me, and the tattoo on my bicep emphasized that for anyone who happened to not be paying attention.
“I’m going to try some of these on, see what works,” Carol informed me, then closed the curtain that served as a door for her dressing room.
A lazy smile slid across my face. “Sure. Just be sure to show me when you find something you like.”
