Runaway Ride: Alpha Bad Boy Biker and MC Romance Box Set

by A. L. Summers

  "So," he asked after she had exhausted all of the time she could reasonably monopolize him, "Are you free tomorrow?"

  "Free?" she asked, her understanding choking her throat.

  "As in, can I take you out? Dinner? Lunch?" he pressed.

  "I... it's probably not— that is— yes," she finally got out.

  He grinned. "You don't sound all that sure."

  "I am," she hurriedly replied. "There was just a lot to consider."

  "Dinner then?"

  "Danny?" she asked.

  "He'll be spending the night at some friends," he told her.

  "Dinner would be good then." She nodded and quickly wrote her number on a scrap of paper, then offered it to him. "Any idea what I should wear?"

  He looked her over and she warmed in areas she wasn't use to warming in. "Ever rode on a bike before? Motorcycle?"

  "Um, well, my uncle had one. That was a long time ago."

  "Jeans, good shoes, a jacket," he offered. "Bikes haven't changed much. Still the same thrill."

  Same thrill, she mused, betting that holding on to him was going to be a far different thrill than holding on to her uncle was. "Is six alright?"

  "Six works for me," Oscar agreed. "I'll give you a call in the morning for the address. I should get back to Danny now."

  "Of course," she said. "That's my cellphone. Any time is fine."

  ***

  Oscar got Danny over to Buddy's house and, after staying there long enough to talk through a beer, he rode back to his own home, hoping to finish up his current project. However he found his mind on Rosie, Danny's teacher, more than his project, producing long pauses while he studied and shaped pieces of steel to bring the work to life.

  More than a year ago his divorce with Danny's mother was final. Since that time he enjoyed a few sexual flings, but nothing he felt was serious. They weren't serious either. Danny was the most important person in his life; Danny and then the brothers of Pitch Wheels. Getting involved again with another woman, bent on changing him, just like Danny's mother was, had no attraction to Oscar at all.

  After eight years of being together, Danny's mother declared Oscar unchangeable and moved on. Packed her bags, left Danny, and went back east. She called every couple of months, and sent birthday and Christmas presents, but Danny hasn't seen her since the night before she left. Danny missed her of course—still did—and he remained confused by her leaving. It hurt to see Danny like that. All the more reason not to get involved again with someone who was likely to find him just as unchangeable and leave.

  Rosie was a major distraction. For one thing, Oscar couldn't figure out why he asked her out. Sure, she was attractive, and young, but up against the hurdles his past erected, these two qualities alone didn't amount to much. Before she agreed to dinner, she asked about Danny, considering Danny before herself, which was a good sign. He knew Danny liked her; he talked about his teacher all the time. Oscar didn't figure Rosie had become a substitute mother-figure in Danny's eyes. The differences were glaring. Danny's mother was dark haired and dark eyed like he was, but Rosie was strawberry-blond with light blue eyes, and she was radiant.

  After calling Rosie and getting her address, which wound up being in an apartment complex only a few blocks away, he was surprised at his rise in energy. Excitement about seeing her was not an expected response. She was good looking, no doubt about that. Even in her prim teacher's blouse and long skirt, her curves were apparent to his artist's eyes. Again, however, glorious looks aside, his excitement was a surprise.

  ***

  Rosie spent her late morning searching the shopping mall for a leather jacket, which she really couldn't afford. She had a perfectly fine blue jean jacket which would have sufficed, but it was old and scruffy and didn't offer the impression she wanted to make. She waited a long time—a very long time—for a man to show up in her life and she wasn't going to leave anything to chance. In fact she had been ready to give up and settle for someone mediocre at best.

  She didn't know she was waiting for Oscar Kincade, specifically. She didn't know he would already have a child, but Danny was a good boy, and he fit fine into her mental picture of the future. What she knew was what she saw in her dreams, day and night. She knew he would be strong and tall. That he would have dark hair and dark eyes—eyes she could melt into. She knew he would be rough and have a torn, tortured soul that she could sooth. She knew he would be a broken wing she could mend.

  Expressed out in the open, it sounded like a teenager's love wish, but Rosie took her dream very seriously. She turned down more date requests than she could remember, waiting for the right man to come through the door. At twenty-five, a virgin, and no sign of her perfect man, she was almost ready to give in and let her resolution dissolve. Then Oscar walked into her classroom, and her only thought after he left was: finally.

  She found the right leather jacket just before he called to get her address, which she recited eagerly. He said he was looking forward to picking her up at six, and she was able to keep her excitement down enough to simply say she was too. It was hard. It was damn hard not to blurt out that she already loved him, and wanted him forever. She knew that wasn't the way to approach a tortured soul like his. It would scare him off. She needed to be patient and nurturing.

  After the call, she went home and found the tightest blue jeans she owned and got them on, making sure they fit her ass with the right effect. She chose her red blouse, one she could never wear to the classroom. It practically poured her cleavage out of the front. With this she added a nice gold necklace to give him an excuse for looking at her breasts, with a hoop set of earrings to highlight her cheekbones. She looked herself over, nodding her head in approval, and then she bit her lip, wondering about shoes.

  Shoes were a problem. She couldn't afford boots, not after buying the new jacket. After pacing in front of her closet, she decided on the red sneakers. She would have preferred something she could slip off with a feeling of grace, but considering the graceless effort it was going to take to wiggle out of her jeans, what was the added addition of toeing off her shoes? Yes, she fully intended to be naked with him by the end of the evening. Her only apprehension around that part of the evening was what to do next. What was expected from her?

  Shaking her head, she pushed that out of her mind. She had been waiting for him; he would understand that she wasn't skilled in that area. It wasn't a religious decision to wait for him. It was simply a lack of interest in being with anyone else. She just couldn't get herself to have sex with someone, just to have sex, knowing that he was not the right man for her and no matter how good it was, she wasn't going to do it again.

  She did masturbate a couple of times a month, but that only ingrained in her a firmer resolution that her dream man was the only one she wanted to be with. His image was the only one who filled her mind and excited her body to the point of climax. Last night, with Oscar filling in all of the vague details, her climax was so intense she splashed a wave of water from her bath, and had to sop up the floor with a couple of towels.

  She was ready to give herself to him.

  ***

  At just after six o'clock, Oscar pulled his large FLH Harley, full-dresser, up to Rosie's apartment complex and let down the kick stand. Then he saw Rosie come out of her door and practically skip down the stairs. His heart skipped a beat right along with her at the sight and excitement rose in his chest, excitement rose in his chest to rival her own. These physical reactions startled him—made him wary. So while his body was nearly devouring her curves, the amount of cleavage she put on display in that red blouse, and the open, new leather jacket, his mind was otherwise occupied with looking for the trap.

  He knew there was a trap, too. Somewhere. Somewhere very close. The tension in his springs sent serrated vibrations of caution up his spine. He should kick the bike into gear and drive away now. That's what he should do. There was trouble in those beautiful blue eyes.

  But he didn't do anything except smile
and bring the bike up off the stand again. "Climb on," he invited, handing her a helmet.

  She bit her lip in a very attractive way, and then after judging where things were, she got the helmet on and climbed on the back. Once settled she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him. "I'm ready!" she told him over the chug of the engine.

  God, I hope I am, he thought to himself. He kicked the bike into gear, pulled out of her parking lot, and roared the bike down the street, heading for the freeway.

  On the freeway, riding for the beach area of Carlsbad, his hand very naturally found her left thigh, rubbing her with a strong grip. He felt her quiver with excitement at the touch and nearly jerked his hand away.

  The whole picture just wasn't right. Something was off. She wasn't a bad girl—far from it. She wore her prim teacher's clothes with ease, and they fit her. The leather jacket she was wearing was new, and he would bet his next commission that she bought it today. The sneakers were a nice touch, and emphasized her girly-ness. She was very feminine, soft, and there was a distinct quality of innocence about her.

  With all of that going on, she was thrilled to be on his bike and shivered with excitement when he touched her. Her embrace was without caution sitting behind him. Eager. Yes, that was the word for it—eager. But eager for what? He felt that the answer was more than a night of sex. If it was just sex she wanted, he would be game, but Rosie wanted more.

  ***

  Rosie found dinner to be wonderful and not what she expected at all. The restaurant was quaint, intimate, and quite warm. Oscar talked easily to her about local events, recent news, and Danny. She asked about the Pitch Wheels motorcycle club since he wore that large patch sewn into the back of his leather jacket. He described them as brothers. "After Danny's mother left, they stepped up and helped a lot. It was hard suddenly being a single dad. She didn't give much warning. None at all, in fact," he told her. "Not sure I would have made it without Buddy, his wife Kathy, and the other guys helping out."

  Danny's mother, Rosie mused. He didn’t use her name, never even mentioned it all night. She was just Danny's mother to him. But the torment of his soul wasn't attached to her leaving. No, but there was some serious anger attached to her; there was a sense of betrayal. She didn't cheat on him; she did something worse, far worse. Rosie was certain of that. She couldn’t, however, picture what she did to him before she abandoned them.

  Rosie was able to calm down during dinner. He was here, with her, finally. And he was everything she dreamed he would be: intelligent, funny, and with a carefree feeling tainted by a deep sadness. Maybe not a sadness, per se, but a darkness. One he’d carried with him all of his life. Like he saw too much and felt too deeply about things. It delighted her to know that she would change that in him, heal him.

  He seemed to be relaxing a little himself and enjoying himself with her. He felt tense when they first arrived and he first sat down with her at the table. He seemed confused, perhaps even a little lost. His attitude worried her for a while, and she thought she might have done something wrong.

  She couldn't imagine what she might have done and this distressed her. She never considered that her inexperience might be a problem at this stage. She just assumed they would meet and wouldn't part afterward. That he would be attracted to the healing she offered, as much as she was attracted to the wound in him. Details like dinners and conversations and several other unnamed things weren't part of the dream. They existed, obviously, but in vague ways. For the first time the idea of dirty socks on the floor and picking up Danny's toys entered her speculation of the life ahead of her.

  While listening to him talk about the club, specifically a trip —or rather a run—they took down into Mexico, she pondered these details. When he brought up the grunion run he was going to with Danny the next day, the subject brought her back to the table, and she smiled. "My uncle use to take me to those when I was a girl."

  "Did you enjoy it?"

  "Immensely," she replied. "Danny is going to have such a great time." She hoped he would invite her to the event, but he didn't. He just nodded and grinned a little. It was alright. Soon she would be invited to everything. She was certain about that, just as she knew the grunion would run again.

  She was much more relaxed on the way back to her place than the trip out. For one thing, he kissed her before they got on the bike. He took her in his arms and brought his lips to hers. She had kissed a couple of boys in high school, so she understood the mechanics, but she wasn't ready for the full effect coming from him. When his tongue parted her lips, she opened up for him and pressed against his body, melting into his embrace. If he let her go, she would have fallen to the pavement without a net.

  His hand came from around her back, and took her breast, cupping it and massaging it at first. Then he found her hardened nipple and began to tease and pull. None of her fantasies had this little detail in them either, and her hips twisted against him with a yearning she didn't anticipate.

  She tried to speak, when they parted and it took her two attempts to manage actual words: "Would you like to come up to my place when we get back? I have a few beers. We could talk some more?"

  He searched her eyes, looking for something, but then said, "That sounds nice. I would like that."

  Now they were almost back to her place. His hand was on her thigh again, rubbing up and down her leg in an easy, familiar, possessive way she found relaxing.

  This is so right. So perfect.

  ***

  Oscar looked around the decor of the living room while Rosie went off into the kitchen to get the offered beers. This is so wrong, he thought to himself once again.

  There were several pictures and figurines of angles around the room. The cute little angles, the more grown but no less cute angles, and a fallen one being ministered to by a glowing woman. The colors were warm, inviting, and entrapping. The couch was so overstuffed and comfortable-looking he balked at sitting down in it for fear of not being able to extract himself again.

  At least she was calmer, he mused. But then, predators are always calm after they have their prey.

  She came back into the living room with two bottles and two glasses in her hand. She offered a bottle and glass to him. Oscar took the bottle, setting the glass aside. She eyed the glass but said nothing and sat down on the sofa. Hesitating again, he reluctantly removed his leather jacket and sat next to her. She was pouring some of her beer into her glass. He took a long drink from his bottle.

  She talked easily to him about some parts of her life. Her father worked at the shipyard. Her mother was a home body. She had a sister and a brother, both older, both married, and both out of town. Her uncle was in prison for running drugs out of Mexico. She said this with a nonchalance that attracted his attention.

  "He's been inside for several years," she explained. "The shock value for me has worn off."

  "When is he getting out?"

  "Three more years," she said. "I go up and visit him once a month, or try to at least. It's quite a drive. I write to him every week though, and put some money on his books when I have a little extra. Teaching doesn't pay very much."

  When he leaned over to kiss her again, she came to him willingly and they necked on the couch for a long time. She allowed him her breasts, and soon he had her blouse unbuttoned and their firmness in his hands, teasing her pale pink, very hard nipples at will. When he moved to take off her blouse, so he could remove her bra she leaned back and did that incredibly attractive bite on her lips. "Oscar," she said, very breathlessly, "I've never done this before, but I want to."

  "Never?"

  She shook her head slowly, gazing into his eyes, aroused and unsure. "No, never."

  "Why me, then?" he asked, the feeling of that loaded spring on the trap quivering in his gut.

  "Because," she started, searching for the right thing to say, "Because it is right with you."

  "You barely know me," he pointed out.

  "Well, that's true, in a way, but I've alway
s known it would be you, in a way, too," she said, still trying to figure that part out herself.

  "What about me?"

  "I feel safe with you, and that you need me," she offered with a quickness that was close to blurting.

  "Need you?" he said, sitting back. The trap was snapping shut, and he wasn't going any closer. "I don't need anyone. Why would I need you?"

  Her eyes went wide. "That didn't come out right," she tried.

  "Oh, I think it came out just fine," Oscar said, extracting himself from the damnable sofa.

  "Oscar?"

  "I think we should call it a night," he suggested, picking up his jacket and shrugging it on.

  "Oscar, please," she whimpered, "It was a mistake."

  "And we shouldn't make any more," he agreed.

  "Please," she said, standing to reach for him, and he noticed she came out of that sofa a lot more gracefully than he was able to.