Romance: A Night with a Badass Biker (Romance, Contemporary Romance, Biker Romance, MC, Fantasy, Novel)

by Vanessa Vixen

  A Night with a

  Badass Biker

  Romantic Fantasies

  Vanessa Vixen

  © 2015 Copyright.

  Text copyright reserved. Vanessa Vixen.

  The contents of this book may not be reproduced, duplicated, or transmitted without direct written permission from the author.

  Vanessa Vixen Productions

  Publishing Division | Nanaimo, Canada

  Printed in the United States

  Disclaimer: No responsibility will be taken by the author or publisher for any damages caused by misuse of the content described in this book. The content of this book has been derived from various sources. A pen name may have been used to protect the privacy of the author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 – Bad Luck

  Chapter 2 – Brock

  Chapter 3 – The Perfect Place

  Chapter 4 – A Ride to Remember

  Chapter 5 – A Flowing River

  Bonus!

  Chapter 1

  Bad Luck

  Lyla stares down the long and desolate road from the driver seat of her car. Smoke billows from under her hood as she rests her head on the steering wheel. Great, just what she needed. As if this day couldn’t have gotten any worse. The hood of her car flies open as she pulls the latch at her feet. Furious, she reaches to the backseat and grabs a jug of water. She comes prepared for situations like these, that, and her old piece of junk is notorious for overheating. The smoke dissipates as she raises the hood the rest of the way. The rusted metal squeaking as she did so.

  “Ouch,” she jerks her hand off the piping hot radiator cap. She sucks on her finger as she looks both ways down the desert road. No one in sight. Not one car, or building, or person for miles and miles ahead. Cactus and bare trees decorate the desert on both sides of her.

  Lyla throws her phone down on the seat frustrated that her mother isn’t picking up. She stares at the suitcases lining her backseat. She left him. She finally had the courage to do it. After three long years of abuse. She finally had the courage to leave. She had just walked out on her husband, who was going on a rampage. She packed up her belongings and fled out the door before he can get a swing in. Mascara flowed down the side of her face with her falling tears.

  She returns to the front of the car after giving it five minutes to cool off. She twists off the radiator cap and adds water to the tank, along with the reservoir beside it. The rusted hood slams shut and she gets back in the car. Now, the piece of junk doesn’t want to start.

  “Crap. Crap. Crap,” she mutters under her breathe. Her battery died. She drives her fist down on the steering wheel in frustration a couple of times. Accidentally pressing the horn. She tries ten more times before giving up. She takes one of her suitcases, and her bottle of water and starts down the long road, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

  After trekking about two miles a small mini-van passes by Lyla, she waves at them, but they continue on their way. Leaving dirt and dust in the air behind them. She tries to reach her mom again, but still no answer. I could be dying mom, she thinks.

  The sun begins to lower itself into the grey clouds after a couple of hours into Lyla’s walk. She needs to find somewhere quick; the thought of being out here in the black of night is something she doesn’t want to experience. Her empty plastic bottle slips from her hand and hits the road. She doesn’t bother picking it up. She needs to find somewhere to pee before she wets herself. She spots a big rock that will give her a little bit of privacy. Although, she doesn’t need it as no one is out here but herself. She scurries behind the rock, scanning the area for any snakes, scorpions, spiders any type of creepy crawlies.

  She undoes her short blue jean shorts and lowers them when she hears a loud engine in the distance. Without thinking, she bolts back to the road while she zips up her shorts. She sees a single headlight heading her way.

  “Stop! Please, I need a ride,” Lyla hollers as she waves her arms up and down at the biker who draws closer. She doubts he can hear her over the bikes loud rumbling.

  The black Harley-Davidson zooms right by her, whipping her hair against her face. She drops her hands in defeat as she watches the bike drift away. Relief swells inside her as the brake lights shine ahead of her. Like little red beacons in the desert calling for her. Lyla scampers over to the motorcycle, a tad bit nervous. She doesn’t want to get a ride from a stranger but what other options does she have, it’ll only be till she runs across a hotel or convenience store.

  The biker doesn’t remove his solid black helmet; she can only make out his eyes, a beautiful shade of green. He wears tight black jeans and a black leather vest with a skull on it. The image creeps her out, and makes her double think about accepting a ride from a stranger.

  “Where you headed?” he asks, his voice muffled behind his helmet. His eyes run up and down Lyla’s slim figure.

  “I just need a ride to the nearest store or hotel, the first we come across is fine. I’ve been walking for hours.” Lyla glances around the dimly lit desert, and then up to the grey sky. “My car died, and didn’t want to start up again.”

  “I think I saw it, damn girl you walked a long way. Hop on and I’ll take you wherever you need to go,” he says in a deep voice.

  Lyla smiles at him in gratitude, she hesitates before hopping on the seat. She wraps her arms around his waist and holds on tight as he speeds off. The boisterous rumbling of the bike is the only thing she can hear, and her own thoughts telling her stranger danger. For all she knows this guy can be a murderer or something along those lines.

  The biker keeps on in the same direction. His solid figure stays completely still as he focuses on the dark road ahead of them.

  Lyla finally notices a tall billboard advertising a hotel a couple of miles ahead. She taps his shoulder, but he doesn’t move he only throws her a thumb up. The motorcycles engine revs harder and echoes throughout the desert as they whizz through the empty road, until they come to a complete stop at a small hotel. It sits in the middle of nowhere. Only one other car is parked in the front.

  The driver removes his helmet as Lyla hoists herself off of his bike. Due to the darkness she can’t really make out his face or any of his features.

  “Thank you so much,” she says. “You saved my life.”

  “It’s nothing,” he grunts. “I was coming this way anyway.” He gives her a half smile as he unties her suitcase from the motorcycle rack.

  “You’re staying here also?” she says nervously, looking around the run down hotel.

  “Yeah, I’ve been driving for ten hours straight. I need some rest. Don’t worry; I’m not going to bother you.”

  Lyla laughs timidly. “I’m not worried about that, I can take care of myself.” She winks at him. His strong cologne never leaves her nostrils. His manly scent warming her up inside. She strides toward the little lobby of the hotel, feeling his eyes on her.

  Chapter 2

  Brock

  Lyla lets the warm water from the shower soothe her body. She finds herself thinking about the mysterious biker as she scrubs shampoo in her silky hair. The way his hard body felt against hers on the ride to the hotel. The essence of his cologne.

  Her phone goes off for the hundredth time. Her husband calling to apologize. Her blood begins to boil as she slides the shower curtain back. Screw him, she thinks. She doesn’t need him anyway. She never has. She just stuck around because she loved him so much, and she figured he’d change. But
she was tired of waiting. She deserves so much better than what he treats her.

  She tosses the damp cotton towel on the bed, running her hands through her hair. She rummages through her suitcase and finds a plain white t-shirt, and a pair of blue jean shorts.

  Her stomach growls at her as she dresses. She decides to go to the vending machine and get a soda and something to snack on till the morning when her mom gets here to pick her up.

  She glances out of the room window at the gravelly parking lot. The man’s motorcycle is parked at the very end of the building. One car sits a couple of rooms down from her. She steps outside, wondering why she feels so scared. The cool night air sends chills down her back as she looks for the vending machine she saw on her way to the room.

  A man slowly makes his way in her direction; he carries a shopping bag in one hand and a bag of ice in the other. Lyla’s eyes dart down to the sidewalk as they pass each other.

  “Hey,” the man says. She recognizes his voice as the mysterious biker that gave her a lift. She turns to face him. Barely recognizing him without his vest and helmet.

  “Hey,” she says sheepishly.

  “Everything goin’ alright? You find a ride for tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, my mother is going to pick me up.” Lyla couldn’t help but feel like a little kid as she said that.

  “That’s good,” he says with a grin.

  Lyla can tell from his body language that he wanted to conversate with her a bit longer. His brain racked his mind for some type of conversation starter. It’s been a long while since he’s talked to a woman. The last one was his ex wife and that was a couple of years ago.

  “I don’t believe I got your name earlier, I’m Lyla.” She extends her hand out with a warm smile.

  “I’m Brock.” He takes her small gentle hand in his massive rough hand.

  Lyla stares in his eyes, the moonlight reflecting through the shade of green back at her. She slowly lets go of his grip. “Thank you for everything, I really mean it. I probably would’ve been eaten by a pack of coyotes if you hadn’t come along.”

  He laughs. “I thought you said you could take care of yourself?”

  “I can, but not against a pack of wild coyotes.” She giggles, as her cheeks blush red.

  “Hey well I don’t know if you’d like to have a drink with me.” He raises the bag in his hand; Lyla can make out a six pack of beer. “I also ordered a pizza. Not the best dinner but it’s something.”

  Lyla battles her urges to tell him yes. Her stomach told her to accept the free drinks and food. Her brain tells her not to go with the strange man. Her phone vibrates in her back pocket. Her lying jerk of a husband. “You know what; I’ll accept your offer. I am quite thirsty.” She smiles at him, and he returns it with an even bigger smile.

  “Right this way pretty lady.” Lyla walks behind Brock as he leads the way to his room. As she passes her door, she debates running inside, locking the door and just going to sleep. Instead of having a couple of drinks with the stranger. But something tells her to keep following him.

  Once inside Lyla can see his face clearly. He’s a stocky white man, looks to be around Lyla’s age. His short hair is combed back neatly. Probably from always wearing his helmet, she thinks. He has a fine jaw line and luscious lips for a man. His hands nervously run through his reddish beard after he placed the bags on the table. Tattoos trail his arms up and down.

  “So…are you from here?” Lyla asks him as she sits down on the bed.

  Brock pops open one of the beers in his hand on the table, before handing it over to Lyla. “No, I’m just cruising on by.” He slides one of the chairs out from under the little table and relaxes in it. He kicks his black boots off with a sigh.

  “Where are you from originally?” Lyla sips her beer slowly.

  “Washington. But I’ve been all over the place.” He gulps his bottle of beer. “What about you?” Brock raises an eyebrow at her in question.

  “I’m from here, born and raised.”

  Brock nods as he finishes his beer. “You ever been anywhere else?”

  “No…I’ve never visited any other places. It was just me and my mom growing up, then I got married to my husband.” She looks down in disgust as she mentions him.

  “Where is he in your time of need?” Brock gazes at her intently. She can’t help but want to give into those beautiful green eyes.

  “I left him today,” she says quietly, fiddling with the edge of her white tee.

  “It must’ve been hard.” Brock remembers walking out on his cheating wife after catching her with one of the guys from his bike gang. After that he’s been flying solo.

  Lyla nods her head, and is startled when a knock comes from the door.

  “Relax,” Brock says laughing, “it’s just the pizza guy.” He turns back and smiles at her, reaching for the door. She watches him as he jaunts over to the door. He is quite handsome, she thinks, but she feels like he isn’t mentioning something to her.

  Chapter 3

  The Perfect Place

  “I think this is some of the best pizza, I’ve had in very long time.” Brock says tearing through two slices before Lyla had even gotten halfway on her first one.

  “Yeah I get them at least twice a week,” Lyla laughs. She sips her beer, and nibbles at her half eaten slice of cheese pizza.

  Brock sets the pizza box on the table and reclines back against the headboard of the bed. He stretches his legs letting out a soft groan. Lyla is tempted to place her hand on his thigh, but she shrugs the thought away.

  “I should be going. You’re probably tired, and want to get some rest.” She stands up and stretches, smiling at Brock as he stifles a yawn.

  “Are you sure you want to go?” he asks her, sitting up from his relaxed position. He places his hand on hers, holding her back.

  Lyla knows she doesn’t want to go. She wants to stay with Brock, and see where the rest of the night goes. After the horrible day she had, she wants to have a little fun. “I don’t want to go, but I’m sure you want to get some rest in before you leave in the morning,” she says charmingly.

  “Nah, I’d rather get to know you better, than go to sleep.” Brock’s gaze lingers on hers.

  Those green eyes, she thinks to herself. There hypnotizing. She’ll do whatever he wants, or anything that he asks. She sits back down at the end of the bed.

  The minutes seep into hours of them talking, about anything and everything. Lyla told him all about her life. Her piece of crap husband, where she grew up, the old diner that she runs because her mom couldn’t handle the stress anymore. Her dad, who ran out on her mom when she was only three years old, and that sums up her entire life. Brock listened to her, taking in every detail the tantalizing woman tells him.

  By the time she’s done yapping away, she sees that Brock moved closer to her, until their thighs were a hairline away from each other. The hotel room is bathed in his scent, which is driving her imagination wild.

  A tingle runs through her body as he places his rough hand, on her bare thigh. His lips form a giant grin, when she makes eye contact with him.

  “I’m sorry, I’ll move it.” His husky voice turned down to a gentle tone. His hand starts to slide off her thigh.

  “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind.” Lyla breathes. She studies his tattoos that line his arms. Brock inches his face closer to Lyla’s. Until, their lips are almost touching. She can smell the beer in his breath. On her husband it repulses her, but for some reason everything about this stranger turns her on.

  Lyla brings her soft, luscious lips to his. They pull apart for a brief moment, gazing in each other’s eyes.

  “We can stop,” he says softly, taking his hand off her silky white cheek.

  “No,” Lyla says almost in a whisper. She grabs his hand in midair, and places it back on her face gently, smiling. She can see a bit of her lipstick smudged over his lips. She kisses him again, letting his tongue run against hers. Without pulling away from Brock, Lyla
lays back on the bed, letting him crawl on top of her. She runs her slender fingers through his beard as they kiss.

  “Wait,” he whispers, the beer still lingering in his breath.

  “What’s the matter?” Lyla says, smiling.

  “I know this perfect place.” Brock’s eyes never leave hers. “Would you care to join me for a ride?” He extends one hand out to her.

  “I sure would,” she says without hesitation, taking his hand. The moment she stands up from the bed, a loud bang echoes from outside. “What was that?”

  “It sounded like gunfire.” Brock rushes to the swaying curtains. He sees three men walk out of the lobby, shotguns in their hands. Six motorcycles block the entrance. One man and one woman dressed in leather vests and jackets, walk down the doors to the rooms, banging on each one. Four doors away from him and Lyla.