Joyride

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Joyride Page 14

by DD Prince


  “Open it. I need to pee. I need to move my arms. My arms are afuckingsleep, Rider. Don’t play games.”

  “Say, please,” he sang out.

  I bared my teeth at him.

  “P-l-e?” he spelled out helpfully.

  My eyes narrowed.

  “a-s……e?”

  What a jerk.

  “Waiting…” he sang out.

  “Please,” I said, emotionless, eyes fixed on the ceiling. But, inside, there were so many emotions. So many, I could barely contain them.

  He leaned over and reached for the cuffs. His teasing manner vanished and he looked serious. “I open these and we talk.”

  “We’re over. So, we don’t need to talk. Ever. I forget I had to watch you gangbang that girl on the video with your biker asshole friends and you forget me. Done. End of story.” I brushed my palms together in an ‘all done’ gesture. Sort of. My hands were still cuffed, so it was awkward, but I was sure my point was made.

  “We’re over?” He asked, but he was smirking. Not just smirking, looking like he was fighting off the urge to laugh.

  What the heck?

  “Duh. Obviously.” I pointed out.

  “Naw. Don’t think so.”

  I glared at him like he was insane. Because he was insane!

  “Naw, I don’t like it. We’re not done,” he said with a sparkle in his eyes.

  “Oh yes we are!” I insisted.

  “Maybe I’ll keep you here until you change your mind,” he mused.

  I looked at him like he was insane. Because he was still insane!

  “You do anything naughty, you’ll get cuffed again.”

  “Grr,” I growled, glaring at him.

  “Be naughty,” he invited. “Please be naughty. Dare ya.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I said.

  “Yeah, well believe, me, gorgeous. Try anything that puts you in danger and I will cuff you again. And I’ll duct tape that gorgeous mouth, too. Which’d be a shame, because it and all that’s been comin’ out of it? Complete turn-on.” He lifted a roll of duct tape out of the toolbox to show me and then dropped it. I stayed stiff, glaring.

  All that was coming out of my lips was a turn-on? I’ve been cussing non-stop and spewing hate at him since he got here.

  He then unlocked the cuffs and when they popped open, my arms felt like needles and pins went shooting through them.

  “Ah!” I felt pain and relief at the same time. “We are SO over. And I can’t even believe I was gullible enough to fall that hard for such an asshole.” I let out a moaning noise of discomfort and relief woven together.

  His eyebrows went up. I looked away.

  I whimpered at the relief some more.

  He leaned forward and aggressively grabbed my hands. Before I could protest, he was massaging my wrists and my arms. I was about to pull away, but he tightened his grip and if I was honest, what he was doing was actually helping.

  I looked to the bedspread, though, letting him do it. He was helping, but I didn’t make eye contact because I could feel his eyes on me. And it was as if they were generating heat on my skin.

  Finally, I chanced a look up, since he hadn’t let go, and I was right; he was shooting angry lasers from his eyes. Why was he angry?

  I was the one who had a right to be angry.

  But, my eyes looked everywhere but at him.

  “You’re a real piece of work, you are…” he muttered and let go, finally, and I carefully reached down under the blankets and pulled my panties onto my other ankle and, still not looking at his face, I lay back down and lifted my tush up to haul my undies back up and on under the blankets.

  I was not dignifying that weird statement with a response.

  He reached for his cup of coffee and sipped it, enjoying the awkward Jenna Show.

  Having no other choice, due to his rudeness, I got out of the bed, in my tank top and undies, and I hauled my pants back on, nearly tripping as I did. I had a sock on my left foot. My other foot was naked. I threw the door open, blowing my hair out of my eyes. He stayed in the bed, leaned back on an elbow, and was watching me, sipping his effing coffee.

  I glared over my shoulder at him. “Enjoying the show?” I snapped.

  He snickered, “Yeah. A lot. And guess what?”

  I glared, “What?”

  “We’re nowhere near over.”

  “What?”

  “Thinkin’ we’ll have to stay here another day, explore all the ways we’re not over. I think I’d like to know just how hard you fell for me. Then, we’ll talk about whether or not you can end it.”

  My body locked tight. Shit. Not only was I ‘that’ gullible, but I clearly had a case of verbal diarrhea.

  I stared, waiting for him to laugh or smile or tell me he was joking. He just stared at me.

  “No. NO! We are so over, even farther than over. So far … there isn’t a word for it.” I bit that sucky comeback out awkwardly and whirled and dramatically stormed to the bathroom. By the time I got there, I was mortified, because the whole way, I could feel him leaking out of me.

  God, I couldn’t believe he did that to me. He’d even been gloved in that video. I guess that was consoling, since he was up some skank’s ass, but still. I couldn’t think about it right now.

  I paused. Skank or rape victim. I didn’t know what to believe. If she was a victim, I felt bad for calling her that. If what he’d said was true, she was a total skank. But, that didn’t change the fact that he and I were O-V-E-R.

  Not over? That didn’t make a lick of sense.

  I opened the medicine cabinet over the sink and found decent lady face wash, four unopened toothbrushes, and other basics. I washed my face and went to town on my teeth with a new toothbrush.

  And as I attacked my teeth, I tried to think of an attack plan to get myself out of here. And in one piece. So, I could rescue Ella. Even if she didn’t know she needed rescuing. Because she did.

  This shit was whacked.

  I found a package of ponytail holders in there, too. Clearly, Rider’s sister and / or mother spent some time here. Or some biker bitches. Not just because of the ponytails, because both Rider and Deacon had long hair, but there was even a jar of pretty damn expensive moisturizer, which I slathered on my face and neck. Generously. Screw him.

  You kidnap me, I’ll use up all your expensive shit.

  I heard noises in the kitchen and when I stepped into the hallway, spotted that Bronto and Jesse were both there, so I went back into that bedroom and grabbed the untouched cup of coffee, so I wouldn’t have to look at their faces and try to determine whether or not they heard us having sex, heard me moaning and groaning.

  Ugh.

  Rider wasn’t spotted on my walk from the bathroom back to that bedroom.

  When I closed the door behind me and sipped the coffee, I spotted his motorcycle jacket on the floor. I took another sip and put the mug down, then went for it, lifting it so I could rifle through the contents of his pockets. No keys, but his wallet, a switchblade, a strip of four condoms. Asshole. He was packing condoms and still went bareback with me that morning! A phone. Not mine, his. Not password protected. Jackpot. Ella’s number was saved in it under ‘Deacon’s Ella”.

  Good. I made a mental note of her phone number, which I had to try to memorize. After last night’s fiasco I’d memorize all my close friends’ numbers.

  I hit the button to call her, saying the digits in my head as it rang.

  “Where are you, Elle?” I demanded when she answered.

  I heard a vehicle start up outside.

  “We just got home,” she replied. “Where are you?”

  “This asshole biker has me at a cabin and he took my phone and I just found where he hid his. I need you to find out where this place is and come fuckin’ get me. I’m not spending a minute longer than I have to here with him.” I rifled through the bed linens and found my missing sock.

  “Rider has you there?”

  “Yeah.”


  “Why is he keeping you there?”

  “He doesn’t like that I broke it off. He’s trying to convince…oh fucking shit.” Before I could finish explaining that he was trying to convince me he wasn’t a rapist, he was taking the phone out of my hand, saying “Nuh, uh, uh.” He had the cuffs in his hand. He clinked one around my left wrist.

  “What? Why are you…” I demanded. The other end clinked against the headboard. He let go of me and was texting on his phone.

  He backed away.

  I pulled on the cuff, but it was pointless.

  I plopped down onto the bed.

  “Why the eff did you cuff me?”

  He backed away as he kept texting.

  “Rider!’ I shouted.

  He left the room saying, “’Cuz you’re bein’ sassy and not the kind I like. Be back with breakfast.”

  “I don’t want breakfast! I want you to uncuff me!”

  He was back ten minutes later with a plate of two toaster strudels and a bowl of some chocolate junk cereal. He put both beside me on the dresser beside the bed. He lifted my coffee cup, seeing I’d emptied it, and took it with him.

  When he was back, putting the re-filled cup down, I tried to reason with him.

  “I have to go. I have appointments at the salon that I’ve probably missed. I don’t even know what time it is! And---”

  “Ella and your roommate got someone named Debbie to take care of the salon. She’s covering your appointments today and tomorrow.”

  I glared.

  “So, about us being done,” he started, looking amused. I wanted to wipe the smug look off his face.

  “We’re done. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.”

  “You were grinding against me this morning, gorgeous. That doesn’t say done,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

  “You were just a warm body.” I muttered, not making eye contact.

  “You said my name,” he said, voice low, not with humor, with accusation. “My whole name. Don’t pretend you were asleep.”

  Damn it. Me and my mouth…

  “I was asleep. It’s over. Whatever I thought we had, I was wrong anyway, so just take me home and forget we ever did anything. You see me on the street, you don’t have to wave or smile or say hello. Just forget all of this. I’ll do the same.”

  “You told Ella, he doesn’t like that I broke it off? Broke what off, Jenna?” he snickered. “What did you think we had? What do you think you ended?”

  “Whatever I thought it was, I was off base. I didn’t break it off. You did. Back home.”

  “I did?” He folded his arms and jerked his chin. “Explain.”

  “You ended whatever I thought we were building on when you left my apartment five minutes after fucking me the other night. You didn’t want anything but what you got from me. So, it doesn’t matter.”

  He threw his head back, laughing like I was absolutely hysterical.

  “That’s funny that you’re only after one thing?”

  “It’s not funny if that’s all I was after. What were you after?”

  “Weren’t you?” I asked.

  “I didn’t get a chance to figure out if I was after anything. Also didn’t get a chance to figure out your motivations, either. Other than what you showed me.”

  “Huh?”

  “You heard me,” he stated. “I didn’t get a chance to make an informed decision, because you were hidin’ half the cards, babe.”

  “You used me,” I said.

  “Could say the same about you,” he fired back.

  I shook my head in confusion. “We went out. We had a bunch of conversations. How could you not know if you were after anything? You got sex. Twice.”

  “So did you,” he said.

  Duh. What?

  I stared. He stared.

  So I continued. “And the last time, you left like you didn’t give a shit about anything but sex, so I figured we were done. Now, you’ve had me abducted and had sex with me again. Unprotected, I might add, which, after seeing what you get up to with other girls does not leave me feeling all warm and fuzzy.”

  “Well, I’m all warm and fuzzy after how we woke up. I don’t mind putting all the work in once in a while, just so long as it’s not all the time. Saw your pills in your bag last night, so knew I was good ungloved. I don’t go ungloved, ever, so you’ve got nothing to worry about. Do I?”

  I shook my head in confusion.

  “You looked in my bag?” I didn’t know what’d happened to it. I had it when he caught me by the door the night before.

  “Yeah. And sleep fuckin’ gives you a pass on avid participation, gorgeous.” He left the room and returned with my handbag, tossing it beside the bed and gesturing toward it. “So, let’s backtrack. What did you mean by ‘I can’t believe I was gullible enough to fall that hard for such an asshole.’ How hard did you fall for me? Because you did a bang-up job of hidin’ it.”

  I glared.

  “You been playing it cool, playin’ your games. I find out from Ella you’re all doe-eyed over me, but I get somethin’ altogether different from you. Once in a while, you let me see you, and I show you I like what I’m seein’, then you put that wall up again. Naw. We’re not over. This game we’re playin’ here is a fuckuva lot more fun than that game. We’ll play this a while.”

  I was horrified. What did Ella say to him?

  And what?

  “This game?” I asked.

  His reply was a big cat’s-got-the-cream smile.

  I gave my head a shake. “This is a game? A game? I’m suddenly under ‘protection’ because of the shit your biker gang has gotten into, getting my best friend kidnapped. And then I find out you’re all being accused of gang raping a girl, of which the evidence does not paint you in a great light. I’ve seen it and I heard how your sicko buddy promised you’d all fuck all her holes until they were bleeding while she pleaded for you guys not to. And this is a game? Kidnapping me? Fucking me while I was asleep without a condom? A game?”

  He just stared at me, looking unaffected.

  I continued. “And I’m being held captive in a cabin in the woods, which is shady as fuck.”

  “Already said it; not gonna keep repeating myself about what was on that video. For the last fuckin’ time, she was into it. She had a safe word and a hand-signal she could use if she couldn’t use her mouth.”

  “Gross,” I hissed.

  “She’s a Jackal old lady now, she wasn’t then, and she’s twisted that to give the Jackals reason to have another beef with us. The fact that there was a video tells me it was all part of some jacked plan. And it wasn’t just hidden. The camera work tells us someone was hiding, filming.”

  “This is not my problem,” I told him.

  “No, it’s not. It’s my problem, gorgeous. That’s why I’ve got you here. You’d be at home, at your salon, whatever, with Bronto shadowing you, keeping you protected, but you bolted, putting yourself in danger. And then you were unreasonable, which is why you were cuffed. And this is a fuckin’ lot more fun than the games we were playin’, so since you’re obviously into the games, I pick this one. We’ll keep playin’ as long it continues bein’ fun.”

  “Uhhh… what?”

  “Think you heard me, gorgeous.”

  I shook my head, unable to wrap my brain around all that.

  “And how do you explain fucking me this morning when I was sleeping, knowing how pissed I am at you? I could say that was rape-like, since I didn’t give you consent. Maybe you don’t understand the concept of consent, Rider Valentine, but it’s---”

  “No. Don’t pull that shit. You gotta be here so you don’t get raped or dead. I’m taking it upon myself to see that neither happens. And while I do that, I like a fuckuva lot the sparks that are flying between us, so I’ve decided to keep the friction up, so they keep flyin’.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “You knew I was pissed. Knew it! And you also knew I was asleep so even if I was doing that, you shou
ld’ve known better. That means that you---”

  “You started it,” he cut me off again and did it with a shrug. “Maybe you’re just pretending you were asleep.”

  “What?”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me the games you’ve been playin’.”

  “What?” I repeated. Was he out of his mind?

  “Though gotta say… waking up, you cuffed and at my mercy, dry humping me. Fuck. Sayin’ my name in your sleepy sexy voice. Seemed pretty consensual to me. You didn’t say no. You came hard. And you kissed me. Fuck, but you can kiss.” He bit his lip and his eyes traveled the length of me.

  My stomach dipped. I ignored it. Seriously, stomach?

  “I like this version of you better. This version, I can work with.”

  “What?” I asked, disgusted.

  “You know.” He rolled his eyes.

  “No, I don’t. Why don’t you indulge me with an explanation?”

  “The real you. Not the game-playing Jenna back in Aberdeen. This is you. The cussing, spitting mad, fightin’ Jenna. Not the one playing games, being coy. Using me to get off.”

  “Using you to get off?” I asked.

  He stared at me.

  “Using you. To get off?” I repeated.

  He shrugged.

  “Maybe if you’d been interested in more than sex you would’ve gotten past those walls and seen plenty of the real Jenna, and not one who has decided she hates your lowlife biker guts.”

  He raised his eyebrows at me. “Why you gotta be two different Jennas?”

  I gave him a sour look.

  He continued to stare, challengingly, at me.

  “I need to go. Uncuff me. Take me home or let me walk, but open the cuff.”

  “We need to get a few things straight before I take you home, namely that you need to let Bronto do his job. Let him shadow you and don’t give him the slip again.”

  “No. All of you can fuck right off.”

  “Then no deal.”

  I glared.

  “Uncuff me.”

  “Nope. You can calm down first, then we’ll see what’s next. Eat your breakfast.” He wandered out of the room.

  “I don’t want this junk!” I shouted.

  “It’s what you get. Sorry, Starlet. Got no caviar kickin’ around today. Maybe tomorrow.”

  I seethed. And seethed some more. Eventually, I ate tepid Toaster Strudel. And then I ate the cereal, which had gone mostly soggy but tasted like Reese’s peanut butter cups and was so good, I decided that when I was home, I was hitting the nearest Costco for the biggest box I could find. I was gonna pour a gallon of milk right in the box and eat the whole thing. And then after what felt like hours of nothing, he was back.

 

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