Alone on Earth

by Susan Fanetti

  He put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t make her life what it would be with him. “I’m gonna go, Riley. I love you. I really do. Too much to make you part of what my life is now.” He bent down and kissed her forehead.

  When he started to turn away, his chest heavy, she grabbed his arm, her manicured nails hooking into his hoodie. “What? Stop! You can’t come here and lay all this on me and then just disappear again. You arrogant bastard—who are you to decide what’s right for me? Fuck, I am so tired of people treating me like a child!”

  “Babe, you don’t understand—”

  “I do understand. I’m not a moron. I get it. You’ve done bad stuff. Well, duh! You moved crystal meth. It’s not like the whole world doesn’t know that, you know. I don’t care about drugs. People should be able to fuck up their bodies any way they want, and they will, illegal or not. I watched Devon do what he did to himself, and to me, and to everybody else who loved him, and I never thought, ‘oh those terrible people who sold him drugs.’ He made his choices. We all make our choices.”

  She let go of his hoodie and crossed her arms. “You’ve killed people. I knew that. It doesn’t surprise me that you’ve killed more people than just those guys in the shootout. Yeah, it’s scary. But okay. I know you, or I feel like I do. I feel like I know what’s important to know about you. Maybe I am being a moron, but I feel it. And I don’t believe you go around randomly killing people for the fun of it. I don’t feel like I have to keep a knife under my pillow in case you go into a sudden homicidal frenzy. The opposite, actually. I thought about this when I was still in Signal Bend. Who you are makes me feel safer.”

  He shook his head. She was turning what he was into some kind of romantic fantasy—and she didn’t know half what she thought she did about the things he and the Horde had done, or what had happened to the people they loved. She never would. “It shouldn’t. Riley, we have enemies. Not all of our enemies follow the code we do. Some of them go for families first. Like what happened to Lilli. And to Show’s daughter. It’s all so much worse than it is in the script. You have no idea how much danger you could be in.”

  “You keep saying it was so much worse, that I have no idea. What really happened?”

  “No. I can’t tell you. It’s not for me to say. But I can’t put you in that situation.”

  She grunted in frustration and stomped her bare foot. He saw her breasts move as she stomped and realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. Even in the midst of the argument, his cock, at half-mast since he’d first touched her, went rigid.

  But she was shouting now, and he forced his focus away from the pulse in his groin.

  “What makes you think you can put me anywhere? Or keep me from somewhere? Or even keep me safe whether you stay or go?”

  “Riley…”

  “No! Shut up!” She hit him with the flats of her palms, catching his gut and making him grunt a little at the lingering sting there. “You’re not a god, in charge of where I go or what I do or whether I live or die or anything. You told me who you are and what you do. I get to decide whether I’m okay with it. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s one thing, but don’t pull this noble bullshit like you’re doing me some big favor when what you’re really doing is trying to make decisions about MY FUCKING LIFE!”

  He laughed. He couldn’t help it. He loved this feisty side of her. Maybe it was even that, watching her take on Isaac that first night they were together, that had made him fall so hard for her. So small, so delicate—she made him want to pull her close, shelter her. But piss her off, and she was a fearless spitfire.

  “Don’t laugh! Asshole!” She crossed her arms.

  “I’m sorry, babe. I just—God, I love you.” He settled down and put his hands around her upper arms. “I really love you. And you’re right. It’s your choice. I want to be with you, if you think you can handle what that means. If you can, I’ll do everything in my power to keep my shit out of your way.”

  She glowered at him for a minute, her eyes boring into his, obviously unconvinced. He didn’t look away. Then she huffed. “I’m not sure I completely understand what it means. But I understand how I feel. And I love you, too. I want to be with you. Like you said before—we’ll work it out.”

  “Riley, are you sure? You need to—oof.”

  She’d socked him in the gut. “Shut. Up. I decide what I need.” She grabbed his kutte in both hands, high up on his chest, and pulled. He bent down until his nose brushed hers. “Just fucking kiss me, okay?”

  He did as she asked, and oh, shit, he really had missed her. As soon as their lips met, she released his kutte and looped her arms around his neck, pulling herself as close as she could get. He put his hands on her ass and lifted her up until she could wrap her legs around his hips.

  Sweet Jesus, she was naked under her long t-shirt.

  He hadn’t been with anyone since he’d last been with her—it had caused talk in his new clubhouse, but he didn’t want to be with anybody else, and he didn’t want to fuck things up with her any more than he already had. Instead, he’d drunk himself stupid every night, as cover and because it felt better to be drunk.

  Right now, with her twined around him, he was so fucking glad he hadn’t boned some random skank, and he was so fucking horny. Groaning into her mouth, he kissed her harder and clutched her more tightly, until he could feel her heat against his crotch. Her hands were knotted in his hair, pulling, holding his head firmly to hers.

  Consumed with a need so intense it felt like literal fire in his loins, he turned, thinking he needed to get her to bed. But he didn’t know where her bed was. In his impatient confusion, he faltered, and his feet tangled in the legs of a dining chair. He kicked it away, and then his thigh bumped up against the smooth edge of her long, sleek table. He turned to face the table and tore his mouth from hers.

  “I need you right now, babe. Right now. I want you on this table.”

  Her eyes were unfocused and heavy-lidded, and her parted, panting mouth was already swollen from the heat of their kiss. She nodded and thrust against him with an incredibly sexy little moan.

  Trying to think like a gentleman and not a rutting boar, he nodded to the windows. “Can anybody see in?”

  Her eyes focused and she squirmed until he sat her down on the table, sorry to lose the hot pressure of her pussy against his crotch. She grinned and pulled her dress thing up over her head, throwing it to the side. She got some good air—it landed over one of the bar stools at the island.

  “Unless they’re in a helicopter or standing out on the terrace, no.”

  At the thought of somebody lurking on her terrace, Bart turned and squinted. With all the lights on in the kitchen, the glass made a better mirror than window; there wasn’t much he could see outside. But he could see their reflection—her small, naked body, with her legs still hooked around his thighs, his much larger body, still armored in leather and denim, leaning over her.

  Good Christ, what a sight.

  She pulled on his kutte, and he turned back to meet her soft green eyes. “Hey—if they’re out there, let ‘em look. I don’t care. I don’t care anymore. I’m tired of always being afraid somebody will see me actually living a real life. Since I went to Signal Bend, and since I’ve been home, I realized that in my entire life, I’ve never been able to just be a person. My mom wanted me to be famous. I don’t even know why. I don’t mean to blame her, but she did, and I am, and I’ve always been a brand. I just want to be a real person.”

  She pushed his kutte off his shoulders. Of reflex, he caught it in his hands as it dropped down his arms. It wasn’t his Horde kutte. Feeling a sharp pang of loss, he almost let this one drop to the floor. But he didn’t. He was a Scorpion now. His loyalty was to them. His respect was for this kutte, this patch, before any other. In order to survive the life he’d chosen, he had to make that true. So he swung the kutte around on one arm, folded it, and draped it over the back of the nearest
chair, all without moving from between Riley’s legs. He unzipped his hoodie and let that drop to the floor at his feet. Then he brought his hands back to her hips.

  She put her hand over his wrist and watched her fingers trace the braided leather of the bracelets he wore. Then she looked back up at him. “So if somebody’s out there getting their jollies watching me fuck my big bad biker, then let ‘em. The worst thing that could happen is I don’t work again. Well, I’m seriously loaded. Being a brand pays great. So I don’t have to work.” She pulled his t-shirt up, and he grabbed it and took it the rest of the way off. The chain for his St. Christopher medal got tangled up in his shirt, and he pulled it free as he tossed the shirt toward the kitchen.

  Then she gasped. “Oh! What—?” Reaching out with one hand, she touched his new ink, in the peeling stage, on the trailing edge of healing. It was a little sore yet and a lot itchy, and his stomach twitched and jumped at her touch.

  “Not Horde anymore, babe. Couldn’t keep that ink.” She traced the solid black arch where the word HORDE had been for years. Then she traced the large scorpion below it, its head and pincers ending a couple of inches above his pubic bone, its tail looping around his navel. The Scorpions’ guy was good; it was quality work. Someday he’d be proud of it.

  There had been some upset that he hadn’t blacked out the steel horse on his arm, and for a few minutes on that first night, Bart had thought he was going to have to black it out or just be killed right there, his bags still packed. But Sam had agreed that he could keep it, and had told Hoosier, the L.A. President, as much, so Hoosier had backed everybody off. The common bond in Horde ink, what they all wore, was the name. The rest they’d done at their discretion. Bart wanted to keep that ink. He knew it meant he’d have to work even harder to prove his loyalty to the Scorpions, and he would.

  Her hands left his ink and lifted the medal dangling above it. “What’s this?”

  “St. Christopher. Hav gave it to me when I left.”

  “God. You really are a Scorpion.”

  He pulled the medal out of her hand. “Yeah. You sure you can be good with that?”

  As an answer, she opened his belt and unbuttoned his fly. When she pulled his cock free, her small hands holding him snugly, he groaned and kissed her. Her hands started to work him, milking him and sliding over his needy flesh. He grabbed her wrists and pushed her back, until she lay before him on the table. Her eyes on his, she licked her lips and arched her back, bringing her pert, pale breasts up. Her perfect, shaved pussy rubbed against him, and he groaned again.

  “Fuck. You are the most beautiful thing I ever will see.” He grabbed a condom from his wallet and got that sucker on fast. Then he grabbed her hip and shoved into her as hard as he could. She cried out and arched even more sharply, her thighs clamping hard around his hips.

  Her lovely body was laid out before him like a fucking buffet. Finding a steady rhythm, reveling in the way her tight, searing heat held him, he released her hip and let his hands wander over every inch of her—sliding over her thighs, her hips, her sides. He slid his palms over her pearly nipples, loving her responsive shiver and whine. Taking each one between his fingers, he pinched and twisted, just lightly, slightly.

  She jerked and screamed, her muscles clamping hard around his cock. “Oh, God! Oh, God, yes!”

  He gave them a tiny pull, and she came off the table with a cry, trying to get her arms around him. Still thrusting solidly, he pushed her down and held her there.

  “I want to see you. I like you like this, where I can see and touch you.” It was hard to get the words out through his own panting, strained breath.

  Then, her eyes flashing and her pupils wide with heat, she reached down and put her own hand between her legs. Holy fuck! As he watched in fascinated delight, she rubbed hard on her clit, making herself twitch and moan even more energetically, as he pounded harder and deeper. Her hand slid down until his cock was sliding between her fingers. The sensation of her pussy and her hand clutching him at the same time was going to drive him mad before he could get her off. He brought his hands back to her perfect tits and plucked and twisted, this time more sharply.

  And she was off. Moaning in time to the beat of his body against hers, her hand working them both, she flexed and bobbed wildly until she went still and silent, her eyes rolling up.

  He loved her sex face so much.

  He let go of her breasts and grabbed her hips so that he could slam her against him as he pounded into her, until his own release hit him like a Mack truck. He bellowed until his voice gave out, and then he dropped over her. He couldn’t relax in the position they were in, so he used his last ounce of energy to collect her in his arms and bring them both down to lie on the cool, pale wood floor. He slid out of her as they moved.

  She giggled and settled onto his chest with a content little purr, her fingers toying with his medal.

  Yeah. He was keeping her. Never letting her go.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Jesu Christo, cupcake, are you going to hide under the covers all—AAIIEE!”

  “What the fuck?”

  Awakened by the commotion, Riley sat up with a start, her head foggy with sleep and her body achy and sore. Bart was standing up at the side of her bed, fully naked and in a fighting stance, all his muscles tense. Confused, she followed his line of sight to see Trevor standing near the door, in his usual black lycra pants and neon-colored baselayer shirt—this one pink. One hand was over his mouth, the other over his heart. Like a church lady who’d just accidentally walked into a Satanist sex party.

  She raked her hand through her hair. “Trevor, what are you doing here?”

  “Me? What am I doing here? I was worried. I was checking up on you. It’s almost eleven a.m., and no one’s seen your pretty little booty”—Bart reacted to that, and Trevor gasped and stepped back, eyeing him warily—“all morning. What is he doing here? And who is he?”

  Bart stood straight and turned to look at Riley. Wow, he was fine. All those muscles. And even soft, his cock was impressive. “Riley?”

  She sighed and tucked the sheet more snugly across her chest. “Sit down, Bart. It’s fine.”

  He sat down, but he looked pissed. “Who is this guy?”

  “This is Trevor, my trainer and nutritionist—I told you about him. Trevor, meet Bart.”

  Both men spoke over each other.

  “He comes into your bedroom whenever he wants?”

  “Bart? This is your biker? Here?”

  “Boys! Chill! Yes, Trevor. This is my biker. Why don’t you wait for us in the kitchen or something, okay? I’ll explain when we get there.”

  Having regained his sassy self, Trevor popped a hip. “Well, I guess you don’t need a workout today then, do you, cupcake?” He ostentatiously checked out Bart’s cock, as if he hadn’t had plenty of time to get a load of it while Bart was standing at the side of the bed. With a vicious scowl, Bart yanked the sheet up to his waist.

  “And good for you! If that’s how they grow boys in the heartland, I have been wasting my life in California.” With that, Trevor turned and sauntered out the door, closing it behind him.

  “What the hell, Riley?”

  Bart still looked pissed, but she herself found the whole thing hilarious. She laughed at his furrowed brow. “Oh, come on, Bart! As I’m sure you could tell, Trevor is very, very gay. He’s also married. You can’t possibly be jealous.”

  His expression didn’t ease. “Well, it’s weird, him just walking in while you’re sleeping. How does he know if you’re alone in here? Which you weren’t.”

  Okay, she needed to take another tack. She rose up onto her knees and crawled over to him. He shifted on the bed and put his hands on her hips as she straddled him. Feeling his cock stir and swell between her legs, she pressed feathery kisses over the lines in his brow, talking as she did. “First, you’re cute when you’re jealous. But second, if you’re going to be jealous of a gay man in my life, we’re going to have a probl
em. Third, he figured I was alone because I’m always alone.”

  He grabbed her face in both hands and held her off, staring into her eyes. He just held her like that, his grey eyes stormy, his cock hard and pressing against her core.

  “Not anymore,” he rasped. His fingers pressing into her scalp, he pulled her to him and covered her mouth with his.

  She kissed him back just as fervently, pushing her tongue against his, sucking and tasting him, nipping at his lips. When he groaned and thrust up against her, she reached down and took his rigid cock in her hands, rubbing its tip against her clit. They both gasped. Trevor could wait.

  “Fuck, babe. Let me in.”

  She released him and leaned over to the nightstand, where the box of condoms she’d had in the drawer was out and open and considerably depleted. They’d spent a wild night, which accounted for them sleeping the morning through. When she sat straight again, before she could open the foil packet, Bart pushed her backwards and took a nipple into his mouth, sucking forcefully. She cried out, knowing Trevor could hear—she couldn’t help it. Her breasts were almost as sensitive and erogenous as her clit. She could go from absolutely-not-in-the-mood-there’s-no-way-in-hell-it’s-happening, to fuck-me-now-and-fuck-me-hard with one good pluck of a nipple. Flexing her hips in time to the rhythm of his mouth on her, she could feel his cock sliding between her folds, his tip almost entering her with every enticing pass.

  He released her breast with a growl and tried to grab the condom from her hand. She pulled it away, feeling puckish, and dangled it over his head. Grinning at the game, he went for it again, but she jerked it away. Then he grabbed her hips and yanked her against him with a grunt, and she didn’t want to play any longer. She tore the packet open and rolled the condom onto his gorgeous, thick, long cock, then lifted up and settled down onto it, leaning her head back and savoring the sensation of him filling her up.

  As they moved together, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, whispering her name. She brought her head forward to see him staring at her, and she slid her hands over his arms and shoulders until her fingers were laced at the nape of his neck. They rocked and surged, nearly silent, staring at each other, until pleasure overtook her and she closed her eyes, all of her muscles tensing and contracting as if they were all drawing into her core. While the climax still dominated her, she felt Bart’s body harden in and around her as he found his release, too.