Girl For Rent: A Dark Romantic Comedy

by Dark Angel

  When we step out of the shower, the cold air gives me instant chills. Harlan hands me a towel, and I watch him dry off and then wrap the towel around his waist. How can such a sexy man be up this close and personal with me right now? I want to tear off that towel and lick every inch of his body. In fact, it doesn't sound like such a bad idea. I reach out and pull his towel off, letting my own drop to the floor. I wrap my hand around his cock and start to stroke him in my fist. He's rock hard and giving me a grin that has me instantly sticky with arousal between my thighs. Fuck, how can a smile make a girl's pussy so wet? That smile is a great ride and an amazing sight. Licking my lips, I watch his eyes follow my tongue. I part my lips slightly and watch that look of anticipation play out on his ruggedly handsome features.

  Harlan pulls my hand off his cock and picks me up. I yelp and wrap my legs around him. He carries me back to the bedroom and back to the bed. He sits me on the edge of the bed and I reach out for his cock. Stroking the shaft, I put just the head in my mouth and suck, looking at him when my wet mouth closes over his cock. I watch for how he reacts as I slide him deeper into my mouth until I'm taking all of him. I bob my head back and forth, sucking his cock fast. His hands gather up my hair into a ponytail and handle and he presses my head in time with how I'm sucking him. I know how he likes to fuck my face, so I start to work him faster and bring my hands to cup his balls. His breathing goes ragged and I feel his hands squeeze around my hair more as he starts to pump my head over his cock more. I love when he takes charge. I like that Harlan doesn't think I'm fragile. He fucks me like I'm unbreakable and when I'm with him, that's exactly how I feel. I want him to come, but he has other ideas. I feel his balls loading up and how steel hard his rod gets in my mouth, but he pulls his cock out of my mouth and releases my hair.

  I start to regain my normal breathing rhythm, my heart racing.

  "Not so fast, I was promised a ride," Harlan explains.

  I point to the headboard and he goes and sets against it. I climb aboard and slide down on his dick, slowly, watching his face as I take every inch of his cock.

  "You like that monster in your pussy, don't you Becca?"

  I suck in my lips and nod, starting to ride him.

  His hands wrap around my hips. "Your tight pussy wraps around me so good," Harlan groans.

  "I thought that pussy was yours, Harlan," I say, biting my lip and bouncing on his cock hard and fast as I can. I feel the pressure building in me, that sharp, tingling sensation of his huge cock smacking up so deep in me, to the hilt. I'm moaning loudly before he can answer. I could barely groan that sentence out.

  "That is my pussy," Harlan says, his hands reaching down and cupping my ass. I'm already bouncing hard on him and his hands trail back up to my hips and start slamming me down on him, hard.

  I'm screaming. He's fucking me hard. Deep. I work my hips, rolling against him and making sure he fucks just right and deep into me that I'm shaking around him. I put my palms flat against the wall and I balance myself and keep up with how hard he's pounding me. I squeeze my inner walls around him and pull his hands up to grab my breasts. He is getting a ride, no matter how good him slamming into me feels. I'm taking charge of this before I come right away. I feel how rock hard and close to coming he is, and I want to make sure that I ride him there. I slow the pace and drop myself up and down his cock almost completely emptying my pussy before I drive down for him to fill me up. I see the sweat on both our bodies and now we are both so, so close. I bite my lip and work up the speed, driving us both to the edge of insane. "Fill this pussy up with cum and show me how much you own it," I moan. I pull his hands off my breasts and hold them up against the wall. I shove my tits in his face and his tongue is all over them and I'm fucking falling apart all around him.

  "Fuck, Becca, you are too goddamn hot. I'm gonna fill that pussy up real good," Harlan groans and bites my nipple. We both ride a wave, his cock spurting a huge load of cum inside me and my pussy milking it out while I gush out my own cum. We're so wet with cum it's like we never dried off. I pull my legs tighter against him and hold him in, savoring every last inch of his cock as I'm shaking on top of him. I'm squeezing his hands so tightly it almost hurts and I release when I start to feel the waves subside. His hands pull me closer to him and his face is on my neck in the spot where he always goes. I think I want a tattoo there. It isn't just my pussy, my ass, my mouth that's his. I want that part of me claimed, too, where I can see when I look in the mirror. When he isn't there, I want to see him there. I wrap my arms around him. He slides his cock out of me and I groan with his exit, shaking around him.

  "We may need to shower again," Harlan laughs.

  "I just need to brush my hair. I think I want all of your cum all over me and in me all day," I say, and I know how filthy it sounds. But I mean it. I want him to cum all over me. "Next time, you're coming on my tits and I'm licking it off. I love the way you taste," I tell him since we're playing dirty confessions.

  "Fuck, Becca," Harlan grabs me and kisses me roughly, biting my lips and holding my face to his so our foreheads are pressing together. "You keep talking like that and we're going to start all over again, and we need to get your hair brushed and get something to eat before we both die from all these calories we burned."

  I laugh. I hear how he's joking when he talks about calories—no doubt he watches his figure, but that was definitely a funny thing for a big bad biker to say—but I like knowing I can turn him on as much as he turns me on.

  Harlan

  I feel Becca’s body snuggled up against me before I even open my eyes.

  Well, at least I know she isn’t hanging up more pink shit.

  I roll over and pull her tighter against me, spooning her against my body. I’d loved her body from the first moment I’d yanked open the door to that damn minivan, but I have to say, I love it even more when it’s pressed against mine, soft and warm and boneless from sleep and way too much sex.

  Too much sex. Who am I kidding? There's no such thing.

  “Hmmmm…” she murmurs, her eyes tightly closed. “It looks all bright and daylight-ish out there.”

  There is light coming through the windows, although I didn’t normally consider the sun rising to be a tragedy.

  “Yeah, terrible,” I whisper in her ear. She smiles, her eyes still closed.

  “You’re right, you know.”

  “About the sun rising being a terrible thing?”

  “Yeah, that,” she says sarcastically, a smile playing about her lips. I can feel her eyes roll, even though they’re closed. “I…” She opens her eyes and stares at the far wall while she’s pausing and thinking. “I really hated life before you showed up. I was living with a guy who thought that all he had to contribute to our relationship was occasionally getting hard enough to fuck me, if he hadn’t already worn himself out with other women.” Her voice is hard, sarcastic. Pissed as fuck. I can feel the anger in her body, vibrating through it. “No reason to get a job. No reason to take me out on a date. No reason to pick up around the house.

  “And work…” She sighs, her voice heavy with anger. “I used to like it, you know? The ins and outs of law, figuring out what all should be included in a contract and what should be left out. It was like a giant jigsaw puzzle that had to be put together, and in an arcane language that most everyone else doesn’t speak. I liked the challenge of it. I liked pushing myself to the limits mentally, and…well, everything this job has become, was what I was so happy that it wasn’t before.”

  She is staring at the wall instead of at me, and I know that she’s using it almost as a way of shielding herself. If she can avoid looking me in the eye, then it’s almost like she’s talking to herself. It’s less scary.

  I get that.

  I stroke her hair away from her face, running my fingers through its soft lengths, the light brown waves glistening in the light pouring through the windows. There are these red highlights in her hair that shine, and I try to catch the red with each stroke
of my fingers but it just slips away, a shimmering illusion.

  I’ve never done anything like this before with a woman, and I have to admit…it’s nice. Really weird, but nice.

  “I recently got a new boss and he isn’t as…appreciative of my assets as my old boss was.” She gives a strained laugh. “Apparently, he likes the really curvy girls, and I just don’t have enough in the tit department to keep him interested. I mean, he’ll stare and whatever, but…I’m not enough.”

  I try to imagine a world where Becca isn’t the perfect woman in every person’s eyes, but quickly give up. Such a thing is simply inimaginable.

  “We also got a new client out on Long Island, and it’s just a real awful job, all the way around. Lousy work environment, lousy workload, far away from the office, a shitastic commute, and I get home every night just hating life. I didn’t used to be that way. I didn’t used to hate the world like this.

  “So when you opened up that van door and demanded that I drive you back into the city, all I could think was that this sounded like a vacation to me. Anything to keep from having to go into work that day.”

  Her voice breaks and she turns in my arms and I can finally see her face and see that she’s tearing up and I snuggle her against my chest.

  “Shhhh…shhhh…” I whisper as I stroke my hands down her hair and back again and again, trying to soothe away her pain. “It’s going to be okay.” I didn’t know how, and I am pretty sure I’m lying to her as I say this, but I can’t stop myself from saying it. I want to make everything okay. I want to make her okay.

  “You can’t run away from life,” I finally whisper, when her sniffles have subsided. “I know life has sucked hardcore for you lately, but you can’t just stay here and hide from it all.”

  “I know,” she says ruefully, looking up at me and then away. She’s staring into the distance when she says, “I just don’t want to face it right now. You know? Maybe I’ll feel stronger in a few days. It’s like I could do it—I could survive all of this—I could make it through each day, just barely but I was, and then…it was like you gave me permission to stop trying, so I did.”

  I hug her against me, feeling her amazing curves against every inch of me. Some inches of me begin appreciating this even more than others and she laughs, meeting my gaze again. “Really? Already?”

  “Always,” I breathe and then I’m kissing her, pushing my tongue into her mouth and she’s moaning against me and life is great again.

  Becca

  The waiter pulls out my chair for me, and then hurries away to fill our requests for a matching pair of Long Island Iced Teas. Rory’s eyes swept up and down me in relief. “Oh my god, girlfriend, I thought you were dead. Or dying. Or being tortured.”

  I grin at her. “Nothing that dramatic.”

  “But the guy on the phone—” The waitress puts down our Long Island Iced Teas and Rory holds off talking until he disappears. “The guy on the phone said that you were being ransomed for two million dollars!” she hisses at me. “Who has two million dollars cash to give for you?”

  I take a sip of my drink and let the alcohol buzz through my system for a moment. “No one,” I say cheerfully. “I was trying to tell him to say $200,000 because it seemed more realistic but he misunderstood my hand gestures and…well, it was rather sweet that you actually thought they were trying for so much.”

  “Wha…you…you were choosing that amount as he was talking to me?” she finally sputters.

  “Yeah,” I say with an easy grin.

  Three…two…one…

  “Rebecca Anne Whiting, I’m gonna kill you!” she half hollers, launching herself across the table at me. I’m laughing too hard to be able to dodge her effectively and eventually, the waiter shows back up, pulling Rory off me and telling us to keep it down. We're apparently disturbing the other patrons. I look around the restaurant—an inordinate amount of people are staring at us.

  I settle back into my chair, straightening my top.

  “What would make you do that?” she hisses, and she doesn’t look at all amused by this practical joke. I suddenly realize that I may have thought I was being funny as fuck, but that didn’t mean my best friend would agree with me.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumble, my eyes dropping to my half-spilled Long Island Iced Tea, sloshed around by our tussle. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “Of course I was worried!” she yelps. “Seriously, I cannot believe this! What has gotten into you?” She leans back in her chair and just glares at me, shooting imaginary bullets at my head.

  “I was kidnapped, at the beginning,” I say defensively. “Harlan—he’s the second in command of the Black Fist—needed a ride into the city because his Harley had been shot up by the Dark Tribe. He was trying to kidnap me just long enough to get to the Beth Israel Hospital so he could get some papers to Crankshaft, the president of the MC. But then…”

  I draw in a deep breath, realizing I could say this next part without any pain slicing through me, and isn’t that just bizarre?

  “I asked to stay kidnapped. At least for a few days. And we went back to Tye’s place to get some clothes and my phone charger, and he was fucking Candi, the high-end stripper who lives downstairs. And instead of feeling sad and awful and overwhelmed by it, it was like I was being set free from that life. I didn’t have to care about the rent or the utility bills anymore. I didn’t have to go to work because I’d been kidnapped. I didn’t have to worry, period."

  I continue, “So then I started playing the part of a kidnap victim, making the guys answer any phone calls for me. I had to keep up the sham, because shiiiitttt, is Mr. Williford pissed. He’s not happy that I’ve been kidnapped and even though he’s trying to act as if he cares about my well-being, really all he’s worried about is who is going to take over that awful account out on Long Island if I don’t come back to work, pronto.”

  I’m staring down at the tablecloth, drawing circles on the pattern, and say quietly, “I shouldn’t have lied to you, though. Sorry, Rory.” My voice is sincere, strained, and I look up at her pleadingly to find her smiling slightly at me.

  “Only you would get kidnapped and then say, ‘Yes, please, give me more!’” She chuckles for a moment. “You really shouldn’t have lied to me though. Or had the guy lie to me. I’d come prepared today with a secret code so you could give me the location where they’re keeping you without them knowing it, and then I was going to have the cops come bust down the doors to save you. I had it all planned out in my head.”

  “Very impressive,” I say appreciatively. “Remind me if I ever really do get kidnapped, to call you for some backup.”

  “Deal,” she says with a wider grin this time.

  We sip our drinks for a moment, and I motion the waiter for another round. He nods and heads toward the bar.

  “So since you’re not in any mortal danger,” she says, “why don’t you tell me what it’s like to be in an MC clubhouse?”

  After drinking and laughing our way through two more rounds of drinks and some appetizers, I decide to take Rory back to the clubhouse to show her around. Dragon and Ink, who have been guarding me this whole time, have each of us ride bitch with them rather than just take an Uber back, and I realize as we’re tearing down the road, that I should try this whole riding bitch thing with Harlan next time. Snuggling up against Dragon just isn’t the same as Harlan, even if they’re both bikers. Sure, he is sexy enough, but he isn’t Harlan.

  Rory had fun that day with me; I knew she’d be a hit with all the guys—and all of the days she had off from work after that. Over the next two weeks, Rory is here, and some of my other friends are too, and I’m occasionally calling into work, whenever my “captors” allow me, and I’m just having fun with life in general. I know that I’m just escaping into this world of make believe, and I know that someday, it has to end, but that day hasn’t come yet, so I can ignore that reality for now.

  Something I’m perfectly happy doing.

 
; Speaking of being perfectly happy doing something…

  Harlan. I know I’ve mentioned how damn sexy he is, but really, you just don’t understand until you’ve spent the whole night in his bed, being fucked in every hole and then some. We never do have more guys in bed with us like that first night, but I’m okay with that. I’m more than okay. I’m happy with Harlan. Despite the fact that he won’t let himself be wrapped around my little pinky finger like all the rest of the guys do—or maybe because of that—I can’t stop myself from wanting him.

  From falling for him.

  I know the rules of this game we’re playing; nothing here counts. It’s fun, it’s exciting, it’s an escape from life. I can’t fall for my “captor.” It breaks every rule and then some.

  But I can’t seem to stop myself.

  And that worries me.

  Harlan

  I head back to the clubhouse on my new Harley, which as much fun as it is to ride, still isn’t the same as the one the Dark Tribe made me wrap around a telephone pole that day.