by Vivian Lux
I might be slightly drunk, but this was the best comedy I'd ever seen.
"I said get the hell out," the biker repeated.
Fitch and his minions stumbled towards the door. Fitch took one last backward look at me, right as the biker slung his arm around my shoulder once more. "Just look at me," the biker said in a low voice that thrilled through me. "Just until they leave, then I'll let go of you."
"That was actually pretty smooth," I told his chest.
The biker laughed slightly. "Those assholes seemed like the kind of guy who'd only listen if a man was talking. No disrespect."
The feminist part of me bristled slightly, and then I realized he was right. "Unfortunately, yes. Your instincts were correct. They haven't yet evolved above pond scum."
The door shut, and true to his word, the biker dropped his arm from my shoulder. I suddenly missed it.
I shuffled awkwardly in front of him. "Well, thank you," I said, feeling slightly faint. Maybe I was drunk, because there really was something familiar about this guy. The way his jawline seemed to square off just below his ears, the strong structure of his cheekbones and the heavyset brow that shadowed his piercing blue eyes. It was a face I knew, but I didn't know why.
Why the hell would I know a biker?
The glowering menace that had sent Fitch on his way was suddenly gone, replaced with a boyish smile, almost sheepish in a way. "My pleasure," he grinned, and the way he said it nearly knocked me backwards. He looked like my pleasure would be his highest priority.
I swallowed as a strange clutching sensation moved into my belly. "I've never seen you here before," I stammered.
The biker looked around the bar. "I've never been here before, that's why."
I really needed to go to sleep. But the maddening mystery of who the hell this guy was wouldn't allow me to sleep. I held out my hand instead. "My name is Gabriela. Gabi."
He looked down at my hand and smiled that half smile again. There was a dimple on his left cheek, shadowed in the stubble of his jaw, that popped out when he grinned at me. "They call me Crash," he said.
"Crash?" A biker name. A dangerous name. "That sounds pretty bad ass, Crash," I heard myself say, rolling his name around my tongue, tasting it.
"From what I saw, you're a bit of the bad ass yourself, Gabs."
I laughed and steadied myself against the table. "Oh those losers, thanks for the help with that and all, but if you hadn't come by, Fitch would have probably got himself a knee in the groin."
Crash threw back his head laughing. "Damn, I shouldn't have got in the way then," he said, eyes twinkling. "I would've liked to see you in a fight."
"Oh really?" I think I was flirting. I don't know what I was doing but I think it was definitely flirting. "I fight dirty." I told him sliding forward a little, so that the heat coming off of his skin made its way to my body in waves, I could detect his scent, leathery, the clean smell of exertion, and underneath it all something masculine and deeply primal. I felt the clutching deep inside my belly.
I think Crash felt that same thing, because his deeply sapphire eyes darkened almost to black. He lifted his chin towards me, hands shoved into his pockets. "Dirty, huh?" he said, his voice lower, a kind of rumble that rolled through me, all the way down to my toes. "Are you a dirty girl, Gabi?"
In any other man's lips, that line would have come off as incredibly cheesy. But the way Crash said it, the frank lasciviousness of it, nearly caused my panties to soak on contact. He looked at me like he already knew the answer.
"You'd have to fight me to find out," I managed to gasp.
"As if I could fight a woman." He was leaning in, and I was leaning in, and his lips were getting very close. Dangerously close.
"Are you afraid I would win?"
"Oh, I would definitely let you win."
The dangerous promise in his words was all it took. I leaned forward the extra half-inch, all the space that lingered between our lips, closing the distance between us with a soft moan. When my lips brushed up against his, I felt the hot spark that had been so long absent in my life these days.
Crash let me kiss him, not resisting, not pulling away, but not deepening it either. He waited patiently, like he expected more and was willing to wait for it.
I pressed against him, frustrated, running my tongue over the edge of his lips, tasting the bourbon that he had been drinking. It tasted like me. I tapped my foot on the floor, trying to dispel some of the frantic desire that was bubbling up in my chest.
Then I broke away. He fixed me with those piercing blue eyes again, the patience in them at sharp contrast to my panting desperation. Without a word he lifted his hand, cupping my chin, and brushed his thumb across my bottom lip. It was a gesture of such incredible possessiveness that I felt like an amateur. A shudder went through my body when I realized that he was claiming me as his.
"That was nice," he rasped, holding me in his gaze. I could no more move from the spot then if he had lashed me to his side. "Let's do more of that."
I felt myself nod up-and-down. Whatever he wanted, whatever he wanted to do to me, I was totally okay with it. The obligations of sleep were gone from my head, the aggravations of Fitch were a distant memory.
"Where are we going?" he asked me, running his thumb along the top of my lip, the Cupid's bow, before he let it sink in between my lips.
I bit down against his skin, a delicate pressure, eager to have at least a small part of him inside me. He widened his eyes and ran his tongue over his teeth. "Where are we going, Gabi?" he repeated, more urgency in his voice.
"My place," I whispered.
Chapter Six
Crash
Chicks come and chicks go but holy fuck this particular chick was something else.
She kissed me like she meant it. None of that mindgames shit, no faux-shyness, none of that forcing me to break down her seven layers of defenses before she finally ended up doing what we both knew she wanted. No, Gabi was up for whatever I was up for, and goddamn was I up for it.
She was just what I needed to wipe away the memory of this intensely shitty day.
Starting over in Gabi's bed. That would be a good way to begin my new life. I was a champ at starting over. It's all I've ever done.
The first time I could remember opening my eyes in the hospital room, I saw the tragic faces at my bedside and didn't recognize a single one. Imposters, all of them and yet I knew that I hadn't been born there. I didn't blink into consciousness with a plate in my head and a shattered leg in traction. I knew I had to have been a kid at some point. I wasn't born a man of eighteen, fully grown without benefit of family, friends or memories.
But that's what it felt like. Even when the memories started to come back, that's still what it felt like. The played through my head like a highlight reel, projected onto the backs of my eyelids. Especially when I tried to sleep. That's when they really liked to invade, these projections of a life I couldn't place as mine. There was no emotion attached to them.
It was like I was an outsider to my own mind.
I still was. But my body, well, my body knew what it wanted. There was no disconnect between my hand and my cock, my lips and my gut. My whole body wanted Gabi, right here, right now. I couldn't very well fuck her on the bar floor though. And she seemed too classy to want to go meet me in a cheap hotel room. So I just laid it out there, let her decide.
"Where are we going, Gabi?" I asked her. Because I'll go wherever you want, I didn't say. Just let me drown in you for a while and I'll follow you anywhere.
Chapter Seven
Gabriela
He bent down his head, and caught my bottom lip between his teeth, not biting down, just holding it there until I moaned and sagged against him, my nipples so hard I was afraid they were going to punch through my bra. I could feel his desire against my stomach. He pressed against me boldly, letting me feel it, letting me feel the rock hardness.
"You feel that?" he asked me. "You feel what you're doing to me?"
I practically scrambled for the front door. My messy hatchback was sitting out in the parking lot, right underneath the sickly yellow glow of the streetlight. I looked at Crash, his hands shoved in his pockets, his shoulders hunched against the cold, his breath coming out of his mouth in puffs wreathed around his head. I had barely even taken a good look at his face, all I had seen was the magnetism there.
He was devastating.
I hurriedly unlocked the passenger door for him and he smiled at me, then nearly had to bend double to fit his bulky frame into my tiny little Japanese hatchback. I ran around to the driver's seat and slid in beside him. He was hunched, uncomfortable looking. Maybe he was reconsidering. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he said dismissively, looking around him. "Don't usually ride inside cages."
"Cages?"
"Doesn't really matter," he put a hand in my thigh, so hot it nearly burned through my work slacks. "That shit's behind me, anyway."
I decided not to press. No, not that, my body wouldn't let me press. If I didn't take this man home with me right now, I was afraid I was going to explode.
I backed out of the parking lot and as I drove down the darkened streets, I had to be very, very careful to pay attention to all the stop signs and traffic lights. It was nearly impossible as Crash's fingers danced up my thigh, trailing closer and closer to the hot center of my need. My breath came in short little gasps as I tried to concentrate on the road, the light burr of his fingernail against the fabric the only sound aside from ragged gasps. When at last he cupped his hand over the whole of my sex, I jerked the steering wheel. "Cut it out, unless you want us to get into a crash."
He smirked. "Thought you did want to get into a Crash," he joked.
I groaned at his pun. "I think Crash wants to get into me."
"Truer words were never spoken, Gabi," he murmured. "How much longer?"
I took the right-hand turn off the main drag so fast my tires squealed, but Crash didn't even blink an eye. He closed his hand even tighter between my legs, pressing upward with the heel of his hand. I moaned and arched my hips, grinding myself into him, the frenzied feel of the seam of my pants standing in my way.
"We're here," I panted as everything fluttered inside of me. I was about to bring a strange man into my apartment. A man I didn't know a thing about other than he was a biker with a badass name. This is probably the stupidest thing I could possibly do, and yet my life was full of stupid mistakes, so what was one more?
I slammed the door and hurried up the walkway. Crash followed behind me, and for the second time I noticed that he dragged his left leg slightly behind his right. I had already forgotten.
As I fumbled for my keys, Crash got his hands around my waist, sliding his warm fingers into the waistband of my slacks and pulling me backward into him. I felt the press of his cock sliding between my ass cheeks, just once, before he whirled me around and threw me against the wall of the house.
Crash pinned my arms above my head against the wall, pressing his whole body against mine with an undulating roll of his hips that signaled precisely what he meant to do to me.
I could not be more ready.
His kiss had me melting from the inside out, lava flowing to my veins and like a volcano I was ready to explode at any moment. "You got a condom on you?" I asked him, unable to keep the begging note out of my voice.
Crash let one of my hands go as he reached into his back pocket. "All set," he growled into my neck.
I slid out from under him, my hand still laced in his and pushed my way into my darkened apartment. It was a tiny studio, one of four in a converted barn, and exorbitantly expensive on my commission salary. But in this moment I was thrilled that I lived alone.
We grappled and danced our way across the small room to my futon bed. I lifted my work blouse over my head and Crash descended upon my breasts like a starving man, yanking down my bra straps and exposing them to his hungry lips. "God damn," he half growled, half moaned, as he curled his tongue around my stiffened nipple and suckled in between his lips. I moaned and threw my head back, arching closer to him, full of wild abandon. Everything I was doing right now was exactly the opposite of how I'd promised my mother I'd act, but once a slut always a slut.
And sluts have more fun anyway.
Crash pulled back. "God damn," he repeated, and his eyes raked over my body in such a lascivious way that I felt like the most delicious piece of meat. He devoured me with his eyes. "Your skin is incredible."
I reached out for him, shoving the jacket off of his shoulders. He let me drop it to the floor then yanked his black T-shirt over his head. I gasped and stepped back, falling back onto the bed and bouncing slightly while I stared at his torso.
"Shit, you're incredible," I slurred slightly, drunk on the sight of him. His broad shoulders and narrow waist were all sculpted to perfection, not with gym -honed glamour but with the hard ranginess of a man who has to use his body for a living. He looked like a man who could work with his hands, a man who could lift me over his head with no trouble. There was a mass of tattoos that covered practically every inch of his skin, emblazoned like flames across his flesh, I could not read them in the low light, but I deeply wanted to.
"Stop your bullshit," he growled, and I couldn't tell if he was pleased or not. His lip curled slightly into a snarl before he seemed to regain mastery of himself.
I hesitated. "You okay?"
He shook his head as if to clear it. "You talk a lot," he said, like it was an observation that was just occurring to him.
"I'm sorry?" I didn't know what he was making at.
That boyish smile returned, the sheepish, charming half smile that nearly knocked me backwards with that sexiness again. "Keep talking," he ordered.
"What do you want me to say?"
He pressed a firm hand to the center of my chest. "Talk about yourself or some shit."
I lay back on the bed as he hovered above me. "And what are you going to do while I talk?"
He trailed his fingers down my torso and hooked them underneath the waistband of my slacks. "I'm going to see how long you can make any sense while I do this."
He yanked the pants over my hips, and let them fall to the ground. I moaned and arched to him, but he shook his head. "Talk," he commanded.
"Oh my God, okay, uh," I stammered, as his thick fingers took hold of my lacy white thong. "Okay well, the first thing you should know is I don't usually go home with strange men."
"Mmm hmmm," Crash bent his head down and exhaled, his breath whispering past my bare thighs. I immediately broke out into goosebumps. "And uh," I shivered," my name is Gabi, with one b, and an i, not a y and uh...," I babbled as his lips followed the trail his breath had carved up to my clit.
"You said that already," he growled into my panties. But then he looked up and flashed me such a grin that there was no sting in his words. I giggled and then that giggle turned into a gasp when he shoved the fabric of my panties aside and traced the nail of his forefinger up my overheated flesh. "Keep going."
"It's, ah, hard to think right now," I squirmed. He was tracing his nail over the hood of my clit, his brows furrowed as he focused on my sex like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen. I closed my eyes when he bowed his head, inhaling sharply when I felt that first brush of his tongue against me.
"Keep going," he murmured. The vibration of his voice had me squirming all the harder.
"And I, eee, work in a bridal salon and it's, unh, pretty stupid..." my words dissolved into a moan as I felt his finger slide inside of me. I pulsed the muscles of my pussy, trying to draw him upward. I needed more, I wanted more, and this delicious teasing was going to kill me dead. "I can't, mmm, think of anything else."
Crash made a low sound in his throat. I guess he had had his fill of torturing me, because he buried his face in between my legs like he meant to devour me. Lifting my hips up, he sank his fingers into my thighs and attacked my clit like it had offended him. I bucked and reare
d, my overloaded nerve endings all firing off at once. I grabbed the sheets and twisted them in my fists, afraid that if I didn't hold onto something, I would float away. I was close, so close, moaning and thrashing like a wild woman.
Crash looked up for a moment, his lips parted, his stubble glistening, and I saw the sideways grin play on his face as he watched the effect he was having on me. He was loving this, I realized with a start. This wasn't just a quick preview before the main event for this guy. If I let him, he would stay in between my legs, eating me out until I died of orgasms. I finally understood why they called it "eating out" in the first place. Crash was devouring me, making little satisfied groaning noises in the back of his throat. "Baby, you taste so sweet," he muttered as he adjusted his angle.
It was so good, so damn good. He was so good. I wanted to tell him how good he was, but just as I opened my mouth, Crash did...something...something complicated, something skillful, something so unexpected that it ripped the words out of my throat only to replace them with a long, drawn out scream. I sat bolt upright, smashing his shorn head between my thighs as I bicycled my legs across the sheet. The firestorm he set off in my body whipped through me, a series of mind-blowing explosions.
I regained the powers of speech for only a moment before I lost them again as he pushed himself up onto his arms, hovering over me like a well-muscled ceiling.
"That was fucking hot," he exhaled into my neck.
I arched into him, wanting to feel the whole length of his naked body. I bent my neck, exposing my throat to his sucking kisses, aware that he was probably leaving marks all over my skin and not really caring.
"You're fucking hot," I groaned into his shoulder, sinking my fingernails into his back and dragging them down. He gave a hiss of pain, pushing up to look at me. I paused, wondering if I had gone too far. Then he grinned wide and nodded.
