Bart stopped the bike and helped her off, then dismounted himself. He took the helmet off her head. When she shivered as a breeze blew past them, he zipped his hoodie up all the way to her neck.
She tipped her head up and took in the sky. “Whoa.”
“Told ya. Something to see. In the city, you forget stars even exist except in stories.”
Bringing her head down, she turned to look at him. He was starring up at the sky. “How do you know?”
He answered with his face pointed straight up. “Not from here. I grew up around. Mainly cities on coasts.”
“I thought all the Horde were local. I thought that was a thing.”
“Nope. I’m the only one who’s not, but there’s not a rule or anything. And my dad was brought up here. My grandparents lived here till they died. So I’m almost local. Just been around more than my brothers. Most of them.” Now he turned to her. “You ever live anywhere but L.A.?”
“No. I’ve traveled, though. I’ve been to Europe a couple of times. And I did a movie in the Czech Republic.”
“Shattered Reflection. Right. I saw that.”
“Yeah? You and like three other people. It sucked.”
He chuckled and took the two steps that had separated them. “It did.” Picking up her hand and lacing his fingers with hers, he added, “But you didn’t.”
“Thanks. You know if a movie is going to be any good while you’re making it. You can’t always tell when you’re reading a script, sadly, but when you’re on set, you really know. If it’s gonna suck, then it’s demoralizing to go to the set every day and try not to suck. The first shooting day on that one, I knew I was fucked. That’s the last time I tried a heavy drama.” She paused, realizing that that statement was no longer true. “Until now, anyway.”
Bart started to walk away from his bike, leading her into the field, toward the top of the low slope. “Do you think this one is going to suck?”
“From what I can tell now, no. The script is really good. Really good. The director has two Oscars, and this real-life drama stuff is what he does best. The cast is good. Doug and Peter are both playing to type, and they are great in roles like these. Tanner—I know he’s being an asshole, but he’s very talented. He’s old-school Method, and I think he must be trying to find the rhythm of the biker. Because he’s never been such a douche before. I don’t know him that well, but I’ve always thought he was pretty decent.”
“And you?” Bart stopped them at the top of the slope and sat down, pulling her gently to the ground with him. Then he lay back.
“Did you honestly bring me up here to lie in the grass and look at the sky?”
There was that damn grin. “Did you think I was lying? Where’s the trust?”
She had to laugh. She’d say it was like high school, but her high school experience had been nothing like this. She lay down next to him and looked at the stars. He was right. She’d never experienced anything like it. The sky felt close enough to touch and yet endlessly far. The light breeze danced over her cheeks. The grass smelled sweet and…pure was the only word that came to mind. She felt present. As the stars winked and blinked overhead, she answered the question he’d asked before he sat.
“I’m good, too. I know this isn’t the kind of role I’m known for, and I’m not an idiot. I know I got it because Hades High is hot with the right demo. But I also have the cred. I know Lilli doesn’t like how I look—I’m too small, too young, too blonde. Well, no guy is as big as Isaac, certainly no actor with the right look and the chops, and they want to maintain that sense of size. Tanner’s very tall for movies, but he’s five inches shorter than Isaac. So they wanted a small Lilli. You’ll find that the actors playing the other Horde are all shorter than you guys. As for my age, I’m, what, nine or ten years younger than Lilli? Maybe seven years younger than she was when it happened? Not that big a difference. And to the last point, that’s why God made Clairol. I’ll dye my hair.”
He rolled his head toward hers. “You’ve thought about that answer.”
“Sure I have. There’s already chatter that I’m miscast. I’ll get the question every stop on the junket. And Lilli just beams her frustration about it right at me.”
“You should tell her what you just told me.”
“I will. I’m trying not to be too adversarial with her. I’ve never done this before, played a living person, but I get that it’s got to be weird. It’s weird for me.”
“It is weird. The whole thing is weird. Most people around here aren’t thrilled that it’s happening.”
“I got a sense. What about you? Do you wish we weren’t here?”
He rolled to his side, his body right up against hers, and looked down at her. “No. I’m glad you’re here.”
Riley thought he was going to kiss her. And she would definitely have let him. But just he put his hand on her face, brushing her hair back.
“How’re you doing with the tabloid shit?”
Way to kill a mood. “Don’t bring that up. I don’t want to think about it. I want to not deal.”
“I can help you. We can keep them off your back.”
She really, really didn’t want to talk about this. She wanted him to kiss her and make her forget what he’d just made her remember. She’d been thinking they might get naked under the stars, even though it was kinda chilly out here. But the thought of having a second line of defense against the vultures had no small appeal, so rather than shut him down, she asked.
“Why? How?”
He shrugged and shifted, leaning on her a little more and putting his hand on her waist, like he wanted to get something going. This wasn’t exactly pillow talk, though. Or field talk.
“The how is I can keep track of any unusual digital traffic, and I’ve got the B&B and the motel in Millview both hooking me in if they get reservation requests. There’s a lot we can do to discourage them from camping out in Signal Bend. The why is because it helps us, too. We don’t want those types nosing in our business. And anyway, I’m a good guy. I like to help a damsel when I can.”
“I’m not a damsel.”
“No?” He picked up a lock of her hair. “You sure look like one.” He bent down, his face right above hers. “So, anything you want to do now?”
His smile faded, and his hand slid under his hoodie and her shirt to caress the bare skin of her side. She kept thinking he was going to kiss her, but he never moved closer. He just stared at her, his hand on her side, his thumb drawing a slow circle on her skin, making her belly twitch. Finally, sick of waiting, she threaded her hands into his hair and pulled him down.
He was laughing as his mouth covered hers, but as soon as their tongues touched, the tone changed. It wasn’t Devon’s mystical solemnity, but neither was it lighthearted like the night before. She didn’t know what was different, but she felt it in him—the way he moved over her, his leg pushing between hers, his thigh heavy against her, his hands holding her head as he kissed her hard, crushing her lips against her teeth.
She shouldn’t like that, how hard his mouth was on hers. She’d always liked things to start more slowly, more gently. But she felt a difference in herself, too, and instead of pushing him away, she clung to him, moaning, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He was the one who tore away first, gasping as he did so. “Fuck, babe. I want you naked.”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t want to take the time to talk. Instead, she lifted her head and kissed him again, making him grunt. When he pushed a hand between them and pulled the zipper on the hoodie down, she eased her hold on him. She wanted his hands on her.
The hoodie was open, and he pushed her shirt, then her bra, up over her breasts, exposing her to him—and to the cool air of the autumn night. Her flesh prickled, and she shivered.
He’d released her mouth and was moving down to her breast when it happened.
He stopped. “You’re cold.”
“It’s okay. You can warm me up.” She pushed her hands under his
shirt to bring him closer. He jumped and laughed.
“Whoa! No, you’re very cold. We should go back.”
When he started to pull her bra and shirt back down, she grabbed his hand to stop him. “No! I want—I want—”
He laughed at her, and she was suddenly warmer as she blushed. “Easy, babe. I do, too. We’re not done. We’re just gonna get warm. I’ll take you back to the clubhouse.”
She wanted to stay where they were, but he was right—she was cold, and getting naked enough to do what she wanted to do would only make her colder. Also, the ground wasn’t exactly soft. The grass was a little scratchy, now that her clothes were bunched up funny. And was that a rock?
But she didn’t want to go through the clubhouse again, not like this, on their way back to his room. She knew all the guys knew what was going on, but she didn’t want the possibility of walking through a leering gauntlet between now and when they were finally naked.
“No. The hotel. Stay with me.”
“Yeah?” Crooked damn grin. He pushed up to his knees and then to his feet, holding his hand out to her.
She took it and let him pull her up. “Yeah.”
~oOo~
Bart went faster on the ride back, even on the weedy lane, through the heavy overhang of autumn leaves. While they were dashing through that enclosing space, and until he turned out onto the paved road, Riley clung tightly to him, her arms squeezed around his waist and her eyes squeezed shut.
The ride evened out on the macadam, though, and she relaxed a little. The vibrations of the engine through the seat did nothing to settle her stirred body, and she dropped one hand from his waist to his crotch. He was stirred, too, long and hard in his jeans. He twitched at her touch but didn’t move her hand. She spent the rest of the ride with her hand cupping his cock through his jeans.
When he finally pulled up at the hotel and parked the bike, Riley felt restive with desire. Bart grabbed the hand she’d had around his cock and guided her off, then dismounted himself. As soon as both feet were on the ground, he grabbed her, yanking her hard against his chest and slamming his mouth over hers. She grabbed his vest in her fists and held on for the ride.
Nothing she was doing was what she would usually do. She was always so aware of how she could be perceived, always so careful not to do anything stupid and land on the cover of the tabloids. But she’d landed there anyway, as the sad little sap of a girlfriend who was just clueless and stupid, thinking she was loved and putting up with all kinds of bullshit, while her guy partied and played around. Nice.
If there were cameras hiding in the bushes on this night, they’d get quite a different show. She felt wild, kissing Bart back every bit as hard as he was kissing her, hooking her leg around his and rubbing herself against him as he shoved his hands into the back of her jeans and cupped her ass. She felt more than wild—she felt savage. If he turned her over the seat of his bike, she didn’t think she’d stop him. In fact, the thought of it made her gasp.
He pulled back, panting, and took the helmet off her head and set it on his bike. When his hands came around her again, he lifted her up, trying to get her legs around his waist—the same way he’d carried her into his room at the clubhouse. But she wriggled away. She wanted to walk to her room under her own power. He grabbed for her again, but she stepped back and took his hand.
“Come on.” Those were the first words either of them had spoken since the field. He nodded in response, his smile crooking up, and let her lead him inside.
There was a guy sitting on one of the couches in the front room. He jumped up as they came in.
“Miss Chase! Hi, I’m Wallace, the night manager…Oh, uh…hi, Bart.”
Riley was in a hurry, and in no mood to make small talk with the help. She smiled and dragged Bart toward the staircase. Usually she was more polite, but if she didn’t get naked soon and feel his skin on hers, she was going to combust.
Bart laughed behind her and said, “Hey, Wallace. See you later. Have a good night!”
When they were upstairs and down the hall, she got the door open as quickly as she could and pulled him in. She barely had time to switch on a light before he’d taken over and had her against the door, pulling her shirt and his hoodie over her head.
“Fuck, I’m so hard for you right now.” He muttered the words in a rush before he claimed her mouth again, his tongue pushing until she let him in. The metal hardware on his vest dug into her skin. Then he backed off, and she thought he was going to start taking his clothes off. Instead, he grabbed her arm and spun her around, pushing her face-first on the door and shocking her to her toes.
She wasn’t sure what to think, so she didn’t bother. She simply felt, and her body was nearly exploding with sensation. His hands were working the hooks of her bra and then pushing the straps off her shoulders. He pulled her away from the door, and she shook the bra off. Then he leaned his body into hers, his weight again pressing her hard against the beveled wood. He nosed her hair out of his way; she felt his mouth on her shoulder, her neck, her back. His hands circled her waist, coming forward, between her and the door, working the fly of her jeans.
Everything was quiet—but loud, too, his breath heavy and rough in her ear, and her own gasps of surprise and need magnified as they bounced off the door. Riley could both hear and feel his hands moving on her jeans, opening them, sliding inside, under her panties, his palms flat against her belly, moving to her hips.
In one sharp movement, Bart shoved her jeans and underwear to her knees, and she was all but naked, bound at mid-leg by the bunched denim and lace. He stood again and leaned into her, still fully dressed. His hands came around her, between her body and the door, one hand taking a breast and the other pushing between her legs, hard and rough on her most sensitive skin. When his fingers pushed fiercely into her and pinched firmly around her nipple, all at once, she cried out and threw her head back so hard she collided with his shoulder and knocked herself a little loopy for a second.
He chuckled, his mouth against her ear. “You okay, babe?”
She nodded, gasping as his hands excited her—but she was confused, and her mind tried to make herself think after all. This was different. It was rough. It was too rough. Wasn’t it too rough? Why wasn’t it too rough? He was still dressed, for fuck’s sake, and she was practically naked and practically tied up. This wasn’t what she was into. It wasn’t. But God, she needed more. She put her hands flat on the door and pushed until he took a step back. She took a step, too, and bent at the waist.
What the hell was she doing? Presenting herself to him, that’s what, like a bitch in heat. She didn’t know what was going on, why she was behaving like this, but if she didn’t have his cock inside her pretty soon, she was going to lose her mind.
“Ah, babe. Ah, hell yeah.” The hand that had been inside her came around and caressed her ass, then slid between her cheeks and pushed back into her core again, deeper this time, his fingers finding that special spot she’d never quite understood. Her knees began to shake.
“God! More! I need more! Please!”
Both his hands left her. “Okay, tiger. Gimme a sec.” She could hear his amusement and felt like she should be embarrassed, but her need was too great to bother with shame.
Her hips wouldn’t stop moving, even after his hands had left her. She’d never felt like this before—it was like an actual need, more than want. She heard his zipper and then the tear and fumble of the condom packet, and she whimpered her impatience.
He spread his legs wide, and then he was there, cool and hard, thick against her core. One hand on her hip, he held himself against her but didn’t push in. When she tried to do it herself, to push back, he held her and leaned over her back.
He whispered into her ear, his lips hot. “I am going to make you come so fucking hard.” And then he shoved into her, hard and fast, so deep she felt bruised. His hands clutching her hips, he pulled out and slammed into her again, and again, and it was…God, it was so good! So
deep, so hard, so fast. Her nails noisily scraped the wood of the door as her hands curled into fists.
Every time he sank deep, he grunted roughly, and the sound was hardly human. She answered each one with a bestial cry of her own—a strangled whine that, to anyone passing the door at that moment, would probably have sounded like she was dying. Painfully.
He changed his hold on her, putting a hand on the door next to her fist and leaning over her. “Fuck, Riley. Come on, babe.”
She bent over a little more, and he muttered, “Shit!” Then his free hand left her hip and pushed between her legs. When his calloused fingers rasped over her clit, she was done. Just done. Pleasure spiraled out from that small point to every extremity, and coupled with the deep slide and pressure of his cock—he was right. He made her come so fucking hard. She pounded on the door with her fist, rocking her hips as hard as she could.
“Yeah, you like that. Come on, come on.” His breath tickled the side of her face.
“Yes! Yes! Oh, God! Oh please now!” And then she shut up, the capacity for speech completely beyond her; her climax had her by the throat. Just as she was finally over the peak and coming down, Bart leaned back, hooked his hands around her hips and sped up, grunting in time with his thrusts until he froze and she could feel him pulsing inside her.
When he was done, he kissed her shoulder and pulled out slowly. As he dealt with the condom, Riley, her need sated, found the shame she hadn’t had time for earlier. What the hell was with her all of a sudden? She’d just gotten fucked against the door of her hotel room, her jeans and underwear were bunched around her knees, and her body was damp, sore, and throbbing.
And Bart, whom she’d known for not quite two days, was still fully clothed, up to and including his damn leather vest. What a slut. She started to pull her underwear back up, but he stopped her and lifted her off her feet.
“You were going the wrong direction there, princess. Those are coming off.” He carried her to the bed and laid her down on it. “I’m not done with you.” He brushed a finger over her nipple, and she gasped at the intensity of that light touch. “Unless you want me to be. Do you want me to go?”
Alone on Earth Page 11
