by Sky Winters
I weighed out my chances and the potential scenarios for a minute. While the obvious choice would be to decline and not walk right into the wolf’s den, there was still a chance things could go well and I might have a good time. After spending my entire adult life being cautious, I was going to take a chance and be bold. I needed this.
I scrolled through my phone and dialed Crystal, my best friend. While I was willing to indulge my wild side, with The Wraiths not being Boy Scouts I would feel more comfortable if someone knew where I was going to be.
“Hey, Lyla! What’s up?” Crystal’s cheery voice floated into my ear.
“Hey, girl. So I got on Come Play like you suggested –“
“Ooo!” Crystal interrupted, “Bag yourself a hottie yet?”
“Actually, yeah I did. I’m meeting him tonight around nine, which brings me to why I’m calling. He wants me to meet him at Joker’s and I want someone to know my last known whereabouts.” I was only half joking in my delivery.
“Joker’s? Are you crazy?” Crystal’s voice went a little high pitched.
“I might be, but getting with a biker has kind of been a fantasy of mine for a while. It’s just one night. Isn’t that what that app is supposed to be for?”
“Well, yeah,” I heard Crystal sigh. Silence followed as she worked out her thoughts. “I don’t love the idea, but I guess you have to get some things out of your system. Can you just make sure your friend tracker is turned on for me?”
I smiled, grateful for her concern. “I will. Crys, I’m nervous. What if I suck in bed? What if he takes one look at me and decides he doesn’t like me?”
“Whoa! Settle down there, horsey. You’re over thinking this. It’s a fuck him and go situation, so don’t worry about it. Be safe and have fun.”
I nodded as she spoke. Crystal was right; this was all about having a good time.
“And maybe pick up that roofie detection paper on the way?” Crystal suggested.
I barked a nervous laugh. “I’ll be fine. Good looking out, though. I’ve got to go and get ready. I’ll call you in the morning.”
Crystal and I said our goodbyes and I went to my room to get ready. While I was nervous as hell, I couldn’t ignore the undercurrent of excitement pulsing through me.
Chapter 2
I turned the key and shut off my car. I fiddled with my key ring as I stared at the spotlight lit wooden sign and the building in front of me. On the outside, Joker’s looked like any old school tavern with its rural charm and cedar siding, but the crowd of bikes parked out front told a very different story. There had been speculation that the Wraith’s used Joker’s a cover business to launder their gun money and keep the cops off their backs. Then again, there was also the rumor that they had the police chief and a few high-ranking officers in their back pocket. I wasn’t sure which was true if either were, but it wasn’t my responsibility to care.
It felt a bit dramatic to even think, but I had a mission to complete so I have to get over the nerves. I took a deep breath and stepped out of my Beetle. As soon as my black pumps hit the pavement the feeling of guilt started gnawing at me. I suddenly felt like I was doing something wrong, like I was cheating on Stephen, which was nuts; the restraining order I had out should be enough to tell me that. I supposed eight years of conditioning and abuse to my emotions was enough to render me unsure.
I straightened up, faked confidence the best I could, and with Walker’s image in the forefront of my brain, I strutted my way up to the front door. With a steeling breath I entered and hoped this wouldn’t blow up in my face.
Time seemed to slow as I took my first step inside. Three worn pool tables took up most of the space in the small, wood-paneled bar, and all three had a crowd of guys in denim and leather hanging around them. The smell of cigarette smoke lingered heavily in the air, while thick clouds of it hung around the hanging light fixtures.
I glanced around the room, looking for a man that resembled Walker’s photo when an awful thought hit me: the guy could have used a dummy picture. There wasn’t a man that looked anything like the profile I engaged earlier that night. In fact, most of the men in the place were heavily bearded, gray, old enough to be my dad, and generally all had impressive beer guts. Oh no, what if I’ve been duped?
I checked my watch again. At five to nine I was a little bit early, but no more than any other punctual person.
I swallowed hard as I walked toward the heavy wood counter. One by one each pair of eyes in the bar noticed me as I crossed the scuffed pine floor. I tried to keep my posture straight and not show how intimidated I really was, but I not only wanted to shrink away, I wanted to bolt like a scared bunny. The looks I was getting ran the gamut from curiosity to lecherous to downright hungry.
Sliding onto a bar stool I scanned the selection of beers on tap. The bartender, a sour looking blonde with very enhanced breasts framed by a cut up Black Flag t-shirt, approached removing a drink stirrer from her mouth. “What can I get you, honey?” I was surprised, her face looked about thirty, but her voice was scratchy and sounded much older.
I peeked behind her again at the taps. “Uh, Guinness please.”
With a nod she popped her chewed up straw back in between her teeth and poured me my drink. I spied a nicotine patch on her shoulder, shining in the dim light next to a blown out lily tattoo.
“I’ve never seen you in here before, sweetheart.” The bartender commented as she handed me my beer. She tossed a tattered Coors Light coaster down in front of me.
“No. This is my first time coming in. I’m supposed to be meeting somebody.” I replied nervously.
“Yeah, me!” a voice boomed from behind me.
“No she’s not, Paul. She’s meeting me!” A tall, gangly man – he had to be about six feet - with a full sleeve of patriotic tattoos throws his arm around my shoulder.
“Like hell she is, Vinnie. Back off she’s mine!” A short, pudgy man with a bald spot elbowed the skinny man away from me. I flashed the bartender a look of mortification. She chuckled and shrugged. I was on my own.
“This has all been flattering, guys really. But I think I may be in the wrong place. If you’ll excuse me…” I threw a ten-dollar bill down on the bar and slid off the stool. What a stupid decision to meet some random guy, at a notorious biker bar no less. I was such a dummy!
“Take it easy, fellas.” I looked up to find the owner of the voice and I was not disappointed. Standing a few paces in front of me was my sexy Come Play date. He was real and stood a head taller than Vinnie, who still seemed like he wanted to take me home to his mother, and my date could probably punt the hobbit that hit on me.
“I’m sorry if these guys were bothering you. You must be Lyla. I’m Walker.” He gestured to the stool I had just abandoned. “Take a seat.”
I stared in awe for a moment at the gorgeous man in front of me as I groped for my stool. Like a moth to torchlight, I was drawn into his amber eyes. I had never seen such a color before; they reminded me of single malt whisky. And they were about to get me just as drunk if I didn’t come to my senses.
“Hi,” I squeaked. Real smooth.
Walker simply smiled at me and waved at the bartender who looked just as enamored and flustered by Walker as I felt. “Two Johnnie Walker’s. Splash of water.” He ordered.
There was no wasted energy. Every word and movement was efficient and to the point. After several years of game playing, I liked what I saw.
The bartender placed the two highball glasses in front of us with two fingers each of really expensive top-shelf liquor. I took a sip and closed my eyes as I rolled the smoky liquid over my tongue. I reveled in the smooth burn as the whiskey slid all the way down and warmed my belly. It was strong and just what I needed. “Thank you. This is really good.” I took another swig, liquid courage and all.
Walker smirked at me and took a sip of his own drink. “A girl who enjoys a good whisky. I like it. Have you ever been to a tasting?”
I nodded as I fini
shed my last sip. “Yeah. I went to Scotland a couple of years ago with my parents and we did a distillery tour. The idea is to taste and spit, like you would at a wine tasting, but not all of it makes it into the bucket. I had never seen my parents so tipsy.” I giggled a little. I had warmed up a little faster than I thought.
Walker slowly looked me over, his gaze lingering on my legs a little longer than was probably polite in a public setting. I had worn a skirt per his instructions. What he didn’t tell me to do was wear my black velvet fuck me pumps with it. I kind of made an executive decision on that wardrobe choice.
The way he looked at me, like a predator sizing up his prey, made my belly clench and lit my nerves up with the most exhilarating and delicious fear I had ever felt. It had been so long since a man had made me feel wanted in any capacity; I was going to bask in it and it made me feel sexy, dammit.
“Did you have to wear such a short skirt? You are getting a lot of attention, Miss Lyla.” Walker looked around the room and gave warning looks to all the buzzards eyeballing me.
“I followed your instructions. You said wear a skirt. Next time, be more specific.” The whisky made me sassy.
“You got me there.” He grazed his hand against the bare flesh of my thigh leaving ripples of goose bumps in his wake. Completely oblivious to our setting, he fingered the hem of the red fabric before slipping his fingers underneath. My breath hitched as his hands crept north to my hip and I felt like I should have stopped him, but I couldn’t seem to remember how.
“No underwear,” Walker remarked, “You naughty little girl.” He leaned in close, his eyes locked on mine. “I can’t wait to get this off you.” He purred.
I bit my lip as I felt myself blush. This was actually happening. I thought about pinching myself, but if I was in a dream I had no intention of waking until it was over. His fingers lingered on my thigh a little longer. I was disappointed when he noticed and removed them.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Walker?” an older man bellowed. We both turned to see a tall, well built man in his fifties wearing a handlebar mustache and black jeans standing just inside the doorway with his arms crossed and a hard face.
Walker got up and approached the new man in the bar. I shrank back so as not to be noticed. This was clearly club business judging by the unfolding tête à tête. Walker stepped to the side to reveal the president’s patch on the front of the older man’s jacket; that told me all I needed to know.
“You’re in luck Danny. I was ready to leave.” Walker’s voice growled, almost like an animal. His back was to me so I couldn’t see his face, but I could see Danny wasn’t happy.
“I told you not to come back here until you were ready to pledge your vow to me and the club. Since you’re here, I’m assuming you’ve finally come to your senses.” Danny’s mustache twitched in amusement, and his eyes seemed to glow a bright orange.
I heard a deep growl as Walker drew a breath through his teeth. “Ooo is that what you think? Sorry, fella. But it ain’t happening.” Walker turned and crooked his finger at me. “I just came to pick my entertainment for the night. I’ll be on my way now.” He gave a sarcastic salute to Danny, hooked my elbow, and dragged me from the building.
I protested and struggled, but Walker threw me over his shoulder and marched over to his bike, dumping me on the seat when we got there. His face was hard as he straddled the leather seat. The engine roared to life and with not caring about whether I was actually hanging on our not, he pulled away from the curb and out to the street. I had no choice other than to hang on, or I was going to be a stain on the asphalt.
My heart hammered in my chest as we turned down a back road through the woods and picked up speed. The wind whipped by so fast, I had to bury my face in Walker’s back to keep from tearing up and getting chapped.
Within minutes the ride was over and he killed the engine. The muscles in my legs were still jelly as Walker hopped off and stormed into the little house, leaving me alone in the dark.
Rage coursed through my limbs, every nerve in my body was lit up. This asshole had effectively kidnapped me and took me to God knows where all in the midst of a temper tantrum. As gracefully as I could manage I slung my leg over and slid off the bike to the ground. I adjusted my skirt and waited to catch my balance before taking off after him.
“You’ve got some nerve, buddy! Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I pitched my purse down on the floor and stamped over to get in his face. All my fear and apprehension had been replaced by pure adrenaline. Well, maybe not pure; it was probably spiked with some blind stupidity.
Walker’s eyes burned into mine, his mouth set in a firm line. It was a standoff, neither of us making a move. That was until his mouth crushed mine. Walker jammed his hands into the wind-tangled waves of my hair. I contemplated pushing him off me. I was still mad. That was until he pressed my body into his and I felt the stirrings of his erection against my belly.
Like magic, I wasn’t angry anymore. I allowed his mouth to ply mine open and his tongue to sweep inside. I had to wrap my arms around his waist to keep from buckling; my knees had gone soft and I may even have forgotten my name under his skilled mouth.
Energy hummed between us as I ran my hands over the expanse of his chest and the muscles of his belly. I slipped my hands under his t-shirt to feel the soft layer of hair covering his skin. I could have sworn I heard Walker growl again.
His hand traveled south to cup my breast. The bandage dress I had worn was cut tight to go with that dangerously short skirt, but the neckline still left something to the imagination. I moaned when his fingers hooked the neckline and tugged it down, freeing my imprisoned breasts from their restraints. When his thumb brushed over a nipple, hardening it, my stomach tightened. His hands felt so good on my bare skin that I had to have more.
I broke away and yanked his shirt over his head. The sight of him took my breath away. His arms were tattooed from shoulder to elbow with deep intense colors, shades of blue and green marked with black. The hair that covered his well-muscled torso was dark, nearly black, but not thick. I could still make out every cut of muscle on him.
Walker smirked at me. “See anything you like?”
I hadn’t realized I’d been staring.
“Take off your dress,” He commanded. His amber eyes blazed as I backed up and followed my hands as I pushed the tight red fabric over my hips. I felt sexy as hell. Without taking his eyes off me, Walker sauntered over to me, jeans slung so low on his hips I could see the edge of his pubic hair. As he moved closer, I could feel the heat cranking between us.
He ran his hands up my arms and over my breasts. Dipping down, he trailed his mouth along my neck; the soft tickling sensation was unbelievably erotic. I had to press my thighs together to take the edge of the throbbing or there was a good chance I’d explode with desire. I moaned and let my head tip back as Walker worked his way south, drawing a nipple in his mouth. He sucked hard enough to send shockwaves through my body.
“Holy shit, that feels amazing,” I admit as I bury my hands in his hair.
I can feel him chuckle against my skin, a deep rumble vibrating down to my core. I liked this. We had hardly spoken to each other beyond learning each other’s names. Frankly, I had no desire to go beyond that. We were speaking with our bodies, a much more primal, ancient language I didn’t understand, but wanted so badly to learn.
“Sit on the edge of the bed and spread your legs.” I did as commanded, though walking backwards in six-inch heels was not the sexiest thing. I sat down and moved to slip the pumps off. “Leave them.”
I was confused, but obeyed. Leaning back I rested on my elbows and spread my legs, giving Walker full view of a body part only one other man had ever seen. With that thought, I was suddenly struck with insecurity and pressed my thighs closed. My inexperience was about to show and I wasn’t very comfortable with that.
Walker slipped his hands between my thighs and spread my legs back apart. “You keep them
open when I tell you to.” Walker said sternly. I bit my lip and nodded. The dominance was so hot I forgot all about my insecurity. He was taking the lead, all I had to do was participate.
Walker bent down and kissed me deeply before kneeling between my spread legs. I gasped in shock as he dipped down and ran his tongue against my already dripping wet flesh. He lifted my legs over his shoulders; his gaze caught mine and held me, forcing me to watch, as he licked and nibbled me. He sucked my clitoris; my body tightened in response a quiet “Ah!” culled from my mouth. When he slipped his tongue inside me I thought I was done for.
I squirmed and writhed against his mouth as he worked me over. Two fingers slipped inside me and pressed against my g-spot. There was no point in maintaining any composure. I felt my orgasm building quickly. I dug the heels of my stilettos into his back, “I’m coming” I shout. I cried out and screamed his name. The pleasure almost brought tears to my eyes; I had never felt anything so good before.
I fell against the mattress in a gelatinous heap. I had no energy or will to move my limbs. At some point in the haze of the afterglow I felt Walker move over my body to nibble my neck again. I can feel his stilted breath against my ear. “You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered as he drew himself between my legs, “I’m going to fuck you, Lyla. But first I want to see you touch yourself.”
His fingers found mine and guided my hands between my legs. I had masturbated only sporadically in my last relationship because of some misguided notion that I should be having sex with my uninterested boyfriend instead. Judging by how wet I was it was safe to say Walker got me.
Walker reared up on his knees to get a better view of my hands and pussy. As I circled my clitoris, the sensation was almost too much. As Walker watched me he slipped off his jeans and began stroking himself. I had never seen a man do that and I have to admit, it turned me on. A lot.
My eyes grew wide as he grew. Stephen was nowhere near that big. I started having doubts as to whether I could handle him or not. He pulled a condom out of his jeans, tore off the wrapper, and rolled it on. At that point I was breathing heavily from all the stimulation. “Stop,” Walker commanded.
