Protected by the Biker (Grim Reaper MC)

by Savannah Rylan

  "I'm Ensley," I told him, and unlike Murray, this man didn't seem to have a problem with my name.

  "Thorn," he said.

  ***

  Thorn was a hard man to read. There was only one expression his handsome face was capable of portraying-that of not giving a fuck. However, the very fact that he was sitting beside me at the bar now made me feel jittery. It made me feel like he probably actually wanted to be there. I could feel another bout of nervousness kicking in, and this time it had nothing to do with fear.

  "I feel like I should thank you again for showing up when you did," I managed to say in a squeaky voice. My attraction towards him was taking over my senses. Thorn took a quick sip of his whiskey and turned his green eyes to me.

  "I'll never say no to praise. What else do you feel like you should say to me?" he replied, and I tried to stifle a smile. Every time he looked at me, I felt like I was naked. Like he could see right through me, and for some reason; I enjoyed feeling that way. He still had not mentioned anything about recognizing me from somewhere, which was extremely refreshing.

  "Let me think…that you're a hero, that poets should write legends about your bravery, that without you here I don't know what would have happened to me," I joked, and Thorn grinned, in that handsome boyish way of his. Was it just me flattering myself when I thought that he didn't grin often?

  "You're welcome," he said and took another sip of his drink. He watched me from the corner of his eye as he did that, and I felt a blush creep over my skin, and I quickly recognized that I liked being watched by him. I realized that I had been sitting with my breasts sticking firmly out, my back straight and my legs neatly crossed. I still had no idea if he was attracted to me too, or if he was just being a nice guy.

  "But seriously, I don't know how many guys would do what you just did. Chivalry is dead," I said, and Thorn seemed to clench his jaw before he put his glass down on the counter. His green eyes roamed over my body, drinking in the shape of my breasts, the flash of flesh revealed by my crop top.

  "It's not dead where I come from," he said, and he said this in all seriousness. I was staring at his leather cut, and he knew I was curious. He moved in his seat, and I watched his lithe, muscular body move too. There were so many things I wanted him to do to me, which I was too shy to admit even to myself.

  "Where do you come from, Thorn?" I asked, and he stared at me for a few moments, while I looked curiously at his tattoos and his cut again. Thorn shrugged his shoulders and then took in a deep breath.

  "I guess the easiest answer to that question is that I belong to a motorcycle club, do you know what that is?" he asked, and I arched an eyebrow at him.

  "Yes, Thorn, I don't know what you think of me, but I do know what that is," I replied. I had guessed as much before he had even said it. I could picture Thorn easily in a life of riding muscle cars and bikes, drinking like a tank, shooting guns for fun. However, I had also seen a side of him which wasn't easy to picture at first glance. I could see that he was a man of integrity and strong moral values. Something that he probably tried to hide on a daily basis, to create his aggressive persona.

  Thorn smiled at me.

  "Well, in that case, you probably know that you should stay away from me," he said.

  "Why? What did you think I wanted to do instead?" I asked, and we were smiling at each other again. He was holding my gaze strongly. We both knew exactly what we wanted to do. I didn't have a shadow of doubt in my mind anymore, that Thorn was just as attracted to me as I was to him.

  "I don't want to make assumptions," he said, and I leaned towards him, with my elbows on the bar counter.

  "Make them," I said, in a low husky voice while our eyes were locked together. Thorn was watching me, memorizing every curve and shape on my face. There were a few moments of silence between us, but it was suddenly snapped when my cell phone went off in my purse.

  Thorn moved away from me, and with my lips suddenly dry, I did the same. I pulled my phone out of my purse and noticed that there were several missed calls and text messages from my friends. I scanned through them quickly. They were all at a nearby nightclub, and they were begging me to meet them.

  "Social engagements?" Thorn's deep, authoritative voice made me drag my face up to look at him.

  "Something like that," I said, and I popped my phone back into my purse again. My martini glass was empty now, and I nervously tucked some more hair behind my ears.

  For a few moments, Thorn said nothing, and then he pulled a pen out of his back pocket and started scribbling a phone number on a paper napkin.

  "That's my number. You can call me anytime if you need anything," he said and handed it to me. He took one last gulp of his whiskey and stood up from his stool. I still hadn't managed to get a word out. I couldn't believe that our brief encounter was ending so quickly and so suddenly.

  "Take care of yourself, Ensley," he said, as he began to walk away. His green eyes were making one last sweeping motion over my body while I remained sitting on my stool.

  "Take care, Thorn," I replied, in a weak voice, while I clutched the paper napkin tightly in one hand. He had made the decision himself, that it was time for the night to come to an end and I had no other choice but to accept it.

  I watched him turn and then with his helmet under his arm, weave around the crowds to the door. It took every ounce of my willpower to not follow him out.

  Chapter 9

  Thorn

  Should I have gone with her? I couldn't get the thought out of my head that Ensley needed me. Even though nothing about Ensley demonstrated weakness. She was a strong, capable woman, who was obviously able to handle herself. I had stepped in when things had gone too far, but she hadn't asked for my help.

  I was back in my apartment now. It was too early according to usual standards to call it a night, but after meeting Ensley, I wasn't exactly in the mood to go down to Dirty Harry's and hang out with the guys. For some reason, I wanted to be by myself and with my thoughts on her.

  It's not that I knew her, I didn't know her at all. Our conversation at the downtown bar had been short and sweet, like a polite thank-you for my help in getting rid of the guy who was bugging her. She had disclosed nothing about herself, and she knew very little about me. Apart from the obvious sexual attraction between us, there was very little else to go by.

  But I had seen the fear in Ensley's eyes when that guy had grabbed her waist. He wasn't merely bugging her, there was definitely more to it than that. Her mood had quickly changed when he was gone, but even though I barely knew her, she couldn't hide her fear from me. I could see that there was something deep and dark troubling her, and my first instinct had been to want to help her. I had no idea why.

  Maybe the best thing to do would have been to walk away. I wanted to help her, just like I would have wanted to help any woman in that situation. However, I stayed and talked to her because I wanted her. Our mutual attraction was obvious. There was sparkling electricity in the air that neither of us could deny. From a distance, I had made the assumption that a girl like her would never go for a guy like me but once we started talking, when I saw the way she was looking at me and my body; I knew she was thinking the same things that I was.

  How fucking mind-blowing it would be to be naked together.

  I was sitting on my couch now, just staring into space, in my dark living room sipping on a bottle of beer. Just from the thought of the way she had looked at me, with her piercing blue eyes from under her heavy eyelids-I could feel a movement in my pants. My cock was awake. My body knew what it wanted, and I wished that I hadn't left.

  But she hadn't asked me to stay either. She had accepted the paper napkin from me, but other than that; she had made no indication that she wanted anything more from me.

  I let out a long, frustrated sigh. She had my number now, so the ball was in her court. I had no way of finding her or reaching her. I had no personal information on her, except her first name. Chances were that she would never call me
, that after tonight she would forget that we even met. But I knew that it would take me some time to forget her face and forget how badly I wanted her under me.

  I couldn't think of the last woman who had made me feel this way.

  Maybe she needed me now. Maybe it was stupid of me to walk out of the bar when I did, but she looked busy when she looked at her phone. It was obvious to me at that moment that she had an active social life, that she probably had somewhere to be, that maybe she had a boyfriend. My pride didn't allow me to hold her back.

  She also seemed to be on her way out of the bar when I showed up, and I didn't want to stand in her way. Now, we were apart, and as much as I wanted to see her again, there was no way for me to get in touch with her. I couldn't help but wonder if she was doing all right. There was no doubt in my mind that she caused a stir among men at every bar or club she walked into. Ensley was one of the hottest women I had set my eyes on.

  I stood up and walked over to the fridge to grab myself another bottle of beer.

  I needed to stop thinking about a sexy stranger who I might never meet again. There were bigger things to worry about, for instance, how I was going to handle the situation with the club.

  Nothing had changed since I met Ensley. It had been two days, fast approaching three, and none of us had come up with an idea of how we could our club out of the ATF's crosshairs and still make the income that we were used to.

  I was pacing around the apartment again, as I drank my beer. Feeling frustrated, I sent another text out to the core team. It was the second time that I was calling for Church and this time I was determined to set the men to work in finding a way out for us. Enzo depended on me. He had selected me to replace him for a reason, and I had no intention of letting him down.

  I wasn't going to sleep tonight either. I knew I was going to stay awake again till it was time to go to Church. I was going to spend the rest of the night thinking of Ensley and what tonight would have looked like if I hadn't left the bar so soon.

  Chapter 10

  Ensley

  I couldn't stay out too late. The fact that my friends had deserted me and gone somewhere else was bad enough. After my encounter with Thorn, I couldn't stop thinking about him, and the whole experience just got worse.

  I grew tired of the thumping music at the nightclub, and I didn't like the way random guys were brushing up against me while I tried to dance. I was beginning to feel claustrophobic in the crowd, I wasn't thirsty for more drinks, and eventually, I just got bored.

  So, I returned to my apartment and after changing out of my clothes and taking my makeup off, I slid into my bed. It was still early for a Saturday night, and I had pictured today going very differently. Now, finally, when I had some time to myself, I was doing nothing exciting.

  I tossed around in bed. I wasn't tired or sleepy. Every move I made, I wished Thorn's body was next to mine. I just couldn't get Thorn out of my mind. No man had ever stood up for me like that before.

  He had left so suddenly. I had no intention of leaving. It hadn't mattered to me that my friends wanted me to go see them, I had very little interest in meeting them. Instead, I would have liked to spend some more time with Thorn and explore the possibility of spending the night with him.

  I bit down on my lip as I pictured the scene in my head.

  What did his bike look like? What did he look like with his helmet on? I imagined him riding his bike, his biceps clenched as he gripped down on the accelerator. His thighs were taut and muscular as he swerved the bike.

  What would I look like sitting behind him? I would have no choice but to wrap my arms around his expansive chest. I would have to press myself to him for support. He'd be able to feel the rise and fall of my breasts. Nothing was sexier to me right then than sitting behind him on his bike and riding away.

  What if he stopped? What if he suddenly stopped his bike in the middle of nowhere?

  I imagined him swinging his long, athletic legs over the seat of the bike, his hands on my waist as he helped me down. I was biting down harder on my lip as I thought about how hot it would be if he pushed me against his bike, leaning me back over the seat.

  His hands on my crop top, sliding it up to my belly, cupping my bare sensitive breasts. His mouth on my nipples. I'd reach for his cock. I was dying to know how big he was, how hard it would be when I stroked him with my hand. His tongue on my erect nipples, me moaning, my nails digging into his leather cut as he adjusted himself between my legs.

  On my bed, my hand traveled down over my pajama top, over the base of my stomach, teasing the soft skin right above my pussy. My other hand was cupping my left breast. I could almost feel Thorn's cock between my legs, I could feel the stickiness of his tongue on my nipples.

  He'd whip me around. I was dying to be thrown over the bike. He'd grab my ass and stroke it gently, before beginning to peel my jeans off. I didn't want him to take it slow with me. I wanted him to thrust his cock into me from behind.

  I moaned in my bed as my fingers played with my clit. I was picturing Thorn thrusting his cock into me rapidly, and my teeth were clamped down on my lip tightly.

  My eyes flew open, and I sat up in bed, in my dark room. I was panting. Sweat covered my face. I had just fantasized about a man I barely knew. I almost had an orgasm just thinking about how hot it would be if he took me on his bike!

  I swung my legs over the side of the bed and rushed into the bathroom. In the mirror I looked at myself, splashing my face with water quickly. What was wrong with me? Thorn wasn't the kind of guy I usually went for. He had said it himself. If I knew what was good for me, then I should stay away from him.

  I was dangerously attracted to him. I was seductively drawn to him. My hands shook as I wiped them with a hand towel. I wanted to stop fantasizing about a man I shouldn't be with, but I couldn't.

  I continued staring at myself and wondering what he saw when he looked at me. Did he see me the way I saw him? Did he want me too? Why had he walked off so suddenly? And then again, why had he left me his phone number?

  The paper napkin! In a panic, I ran out of the bathroom and rummaged for the purse in my closet which I had thrown in earlier. Inside the purse, the paper napkin lay folded up and I felt a sense of relief wash over me.

  He'd told me to call him if I needed him. Not if I wanted him. What did he mean by that? Why would I need him? What did he think his purpose in my life was?

  I sat down on the edge of the bed, holding the napkin in my hand and stared at the digits. Would it be too forward of me to call him now? To tell him that I needed him to make me feel good? What if that wasn't the kind of 'need' he was talking about?

  I let out a slight laugh. I was being silly. How could I want a man so badly that I barely even knew? I must be working too hard if the first man that talks to me I want to hop in bed with.

  Stuffing the napkin back in my purse, I walked out of my bedroom and to my living room. It was too early for me to fall asleep. My mind was racing with thoughts of Thorn. I needed a distraction.

  My eyes fell on the pile of fan mail that my publicist had delivered to my apartment earlier that day. Perfect.

  ***

  I made myself a cup of hot cocoa and sat down at my writing desk with the pile of fan mail beside me.

  If this wasn't distraction enough from thoughts of Thorn, I didn't know what else could be. I was giddy with excitement as I stared at the unopened pile of letters now. I truly loved my fans. I tried to keep in touch with everyone that contacted me through social media. But what I think I loved the most was actual letters. According to my publicist, Sandy, the letters had been flooding her office, and she had picked out a bunch of them and had them delivered to my apartment.

  I picked the top one up and felt the smooth red material of the envelope between my fingers. There were stickers on it, with my name written out in neat frilly handwriting in glitter pen. I knew exactly the kind of person this letter was from.

  I tore it open carefully, and my pre
diction was true. It was a fan letter from a thirteen-year-old girl who had seen me on TV and more recently watched the whole season of Failing at Love.

  She wanted me to know that she loved everything about me. The way I did my hair, my clothes on the show, how my character was good-natured and how just like me, she too was just looking for someone to love her back.

  I smiled as I read her letter over and over again. It was my first piece of fan mail and I wanted to cherish that moment of discovering how I was affecting people's lives.

  I opened the next one, which had been scented and this too was written by an excited teenage girl. This girl, called Marissa, said that she wanted to be just like me when she became an adult. She said she was a redhead but wished that she had beautiful golden hair like mine.

  I was itching to write back to these girls. I wanted them to know that I was thinking about them, and to reassure them that life had a funny way of working out. I wanted Marissa to know that red hair was just as beautiful as golden hair was. Most of all, I wanted these girls to know just how much their words meant to me.

  But Sandy had explicitly told me that I shouldn't write back. She had warned me against forming any sort of unhealthy relationship with the people who wrote to me, and I could see her point. These girls were at the cusps of their lives, and undue attention from a celebrity could make them grow over-attached.

  The grown-up thing for me to do would be to read these mails, appreciate them and then leave them aside.

  I raced through the next few letters. They came from people of all ages and all backgrounds, but mostly from teenage girls who looked up to me.

  Tonight, I was feeling rejuvenated. Now finally I felt like I had achieved what I had set out to do. The whole reason why I wanted to work in television more than in films was so that I could form a bond with my fans. So that I was a regular presence in their lives.