He’d been so sweet to her, and his presence made her feel things she thought she’d never experience, all the cliché fireworks she’d heard about and mocked. But that was exactly what Hunter stirred in her. If his kisses were fireworks, then the sex was a solar explosion. She couldn’t stop thinking about him even in the morning, after waking up much too early. But as giddy as she was, there was a sour undertone to each memory.
She was ashamed of herself.
These feelings were exactly what Mother wanted to avoid by sending her two men on the night of the ritual. Now Asty only wanted one of them, and she had convinced herself he was the father when it was Ray who had come in her first. That made it more probable for him to be the donor, unless his sperm was sluggish and Hunter’s unusually virile. Or at least it seemed logical.
And the fact was that she couldn’t help but resent the possibility of Ray being the one to have impregnated her. He wasn’t bad looking and his body was strong, but he was such a despicable man. Even the sex with him had been lousy. He had licked her pussy for a minute and then just pushed in. It didn’t really hurt, as she had used some lube during the preparations, but he was still an inconsiderate pig. Bell hadn’t always been the gentleman Mom would have wanted him to be, but with the number of hangarounds chasing him, Asty assumed he was at least civil toward the girls. But if there was a chance Ray was the father, she couldn’t afford to ignore it or the ritual could fall through, and all her sacrifices would have been in vain. This wasn’t about what she wanted. She made her choice and was intent to give her life in exchange for Bell’s. There was no way she’d forsake it all for a crush. She needed to ingest Ray’s seed too.
Just as she sneered at the thought of having to suck off that caveman, her phone beeped with a text message. Asty’s head got lighter when she realized it was from Hunter.
“Hey, babe. Let’s get some breakfast.”
Asty bit her lip and curled her legs underneath her body in the armchair. That was exactly what she had feared. She’d read somewhere that men fell in love much easier than women, and with Hunter already having declared just how attractive he found her, maybe he was intent on getting even closer. Be official after a while? She did not want any commitment. This would make things so much harder for her, and it wouldn’t be fair to him either, but at the same time ... she did want to see him. And she was hungry. Maybe grabbing a bite together wasn’t such a bad idea?
She took her time writing and deleting an answer, but in the end, she sent him, “Okay. Where?”
“I’m waiting outside. I’ll take you to this nice cafe whenever you’re ready. But it better be fast, ‘cause I’m starving. Unless you let me eat your pussy before breakfast?”
Asty stared at the phone as heat streamed to her face, chest, and pussy. Did she want that? She bet Hunter was better at it than Ray, as he was better at pretty much everything else, but she couldn’t encourage him too much.
At least she was already dressed and wore makeup, so she just picked up her favorite coffin-shaped bag and rushed downstairs, pushed by an invisible force. She opened the front door and gasped when she saw him on the trail leading from the street.
He seemed even more handsome in the sunlight, with his long hair a bit wild, probably after the bike ride, and his leather jacket open to show off a Burzum T-shirt.
As she approached, he raised his eyebrows and sighed theatrically. “Is that a ‘no’ to my question?”
Asty stopped in her tracks, suddenly unsure about her earlier decision. “I thought you wanted actual nutrition first,” she said in the end and locked the door. She didn’t want to seem too eager.
“I bet you’d be very nutritious.” Hunter pulled her in for a surprise kiss and placed his hand on her waist. “These lips will have to do for now.”
Asty bit back a whimper and melted into his chest. “Be careful. What if someone tells Dad?”
“There’s no one around,” Hunter said, but pulled away in the end, and passed her a helmet.
“There are too many people who live for the gossip around here,” Asty said and popped the helmet on her head. She already missed his touch, but she would have it once they mounted his bike, a black beast with a sculpted goat skull at the front.
“Hold on tight,” Hunter said once he put on his helmet and pushed back the kickstand.
Asty leaned forward and slid her arms around his waist without even a shadow of reluctance. This was safe touch. No one would even blink watching a girl hug a guy while he drove her on his motorcycle. No one had to know she sniffed the leather of his pleasantly worn jacket and the hair he tied back for the ride. Just being close to him made her hyperaware of every sense she could possibly feel him with.
He never drove so fast that she’d get uncomfortable, but the adrenaline rush was still there, as the speed he reached was incomparable to that of her scooter. Her thighs rested against his, and spreading her legs so close to him only reminded her of last night, when she gave into his touch so completely.
She was so focused on the contact she didn’t even notice where he was taking her, tuned in to the sound of her heart. He slowed down eventually and stopped in a quiet, narrow street with tall buildings built side by side. There was just a bit of snow, and the way it clung to the naked trees planted on both sides, it looked as if they were an element of the Christmas decorations. Garlands of lights hung between old-fashioned streetlights, formed into shapes of bells and reindeer. The whole setup looked so classy.
They parked in front of a cafe called Espresso, and it looked nothing like Bell and Dad’s favorite dives. She was actually surprised Hunter brought her here, and she wasn’t sure whether he really liked the place or wanted to impress her. The front was black, with the name written in an elegant white font, alongside the words artisan bakery and café. Inside, she could see dark wood and industrial-looking chairs of black metal and abstract pictures hanging on the walls.
“Have you been here before?” she asked, getting off the bike.
Hunter nodded once he dismounted as well and took both their helmets. “I used to come here years ago, and now I can afford it again, so I indulge in artisan croissants and African coffees. Don’t judge me.” He snorted, and before she could protest, he grabbed her hand. Once he did, she wasn’t sure how to pull away without making it awkward, so she was stuck in limbo between keeping things casual with Hunter and acting like a couple.
The bell rang when they went in, and a young man smiled at them from behind the counter. There were columns in the middle of the large space, dividing tables from the bar area where Hunter was taking her. Delicious-looking cakes on glass stands made her mouth water, and she could see a covered counter with fresh-looking salads and sandwiches right next to them, but Asty’s eyes were drawn to the blackboards hanging behind the young man’s back. The specials, coffees, and teas all sounded amazing, but she decided to treat herself and ordered red velvet crêpes with a cream cheese filling and a coffee Hunter recommended. She’d never been on a date, so she decided to go with his suggestion.
Hunter insisted he would pay when she tried to open her wallet, and that made the whole breakfast even more of a date. How was she supposed to navigate this? She wasn’t looking for a relationship. Soon enough her pregnancy would start to show anyway, and he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with her.
Once they sat in a cozy booth by the window, she knew she needed to act fast and explain the only type of relationship they could have. But how would she call it? Friends with benefits? Fuck buddies? So crude.
But Hunter spoke before she could. “How did a hottie like you even stay a virgin for so long?”
Asty grabbed the fork and started poking it against the table. Wow, that escalated quickly. It wasn’t that she didn’t want sex. She did, but all the guys who had ever been interested in her made her uncomfortable on one level or another. “It just ... worked out that way,” she finally offered, hoping her food would be here soon, and they could then easily shift
the topic to how good it was.
“I bet you had a religious following of emo boys in high school.” Hunter laughed and bit into his Parma ham ciabatta sandwich with Italian olives.
Asty squeezed her hands on the sleeves of her oversized sweater and bit her lips. “Yeah, but they were all immature brats. Why would I want to fuck any of them?” The men she crushed on were always older and treated her like a silly girl, and on top of that, no one wanted to date a biker’s only daughter when there were plenty of hot girls around anyway. At some point, Asty stopped trying.
“Good point. Though if you’ve waited so long, you should have waited for me.” Hunter wiggled his eyebrows and grinned once he swallowed.
Asty frowned. He was there, why didn’t he just do her first? “It’s not like you didn’t have your chance.”
“I was still a prospect. I had to let Ray …” Hunter groaned. “I fucking hated prospecting.” He looked away with his mouth full.
Asty stretched in her chair, watching him. “Is that how it works? This is the first time I’ve heard of that.”
Hunter mulled over the question for a while. “Patches get their choice of girl first. Most of the time, it’s just an unspoken rule, but things can get ugly if it’s not respected.”
“That’s shitty. Shouldn’t it be the girl choosing who she wants to fuck if there’s more than one candidate?” Asty asked, resting her chin on her hand. She nodded at the waitress, who placed the rest of their order in front of them. Asty had to admit her cinnamon-flavored coffee smelled delicious.
Hunter looked back at her and shook his head. “Not really, no. If a prospect goes against the wishes of a patch, he’s in for a shitload of trouble. Trust me, I know.”
Asty scowled and tasted her sweet, delicious beverage. “What did you do, and what happened?”
“Can’t say, babe. It’s club business.” Hunter sighed and had some coffee. “What I can tell you though, is how I lost my virginity. You up for that?”
For a moment, she wanted to be cheeky and ask him whether someone told him whom to fuck, but eventually decided that would be too much and nodded. “I bet it won’t be crazier than mine.”
“It would be hard to top your story. I was visiting my uncle, and by visiting, I mean I was sick of my folks and decided to take a break away from them. I was fifteen, so I’ve never been to a bar, but my uncle took me to the Hogs’ clubhouse, and my mind was blown. Some of the girls there walked around topless—crazy stuff for a teenage guy. My mom would call the whole party the fifth circle of hell or some shit like that.” Hunter snorted and moved close enough for their thighs to touch. “There was this woman, tattooed from the neck down, pierced nipples, the whole shebang, and when my uncle saw I was drooling a bit, he introduced me to her, and we spent the whole night fucking like rabbits on steroids. Never wanted to go back home since.”
Asty squeezed her thighs, imagining a young Hunter fucking her all night long. “Did you already have hair this long back then?” she asked and cut a piece of her crêpe.
“Shoulder length. My mother hated it but finally okayed it when I told her I wanted to have hair like Jesus.” Hunter burst out laughing. “What about your folks? I bet you had it fun growing up. Satanic dad, witch mom, pet goat …”
“And a brother who died after being a shot in the head,” she muttered and stuffed the crêpe into her mouth, suddenly choking up. She’d do anything for Bell. He’d be back at the club, where he belonged. Dad would have a grandson to take his mind off a dead daughter, and soon enough, they’d bond and forget about all the grief that came before.
Hunter put his arm over her shoulder. “Oh, I’m sorry, babe, I didn’t know. I’m guessing he was a Nail?” No humor was left in his voice.
Asty nodded, leaning into his touch. It provided such comfort to let go and savor Hunter’s warmth. “Yes. Bell was great. The best brother I could have. Everything went to shit after he died. My mom got ill, and I think it was because she missed him so much,” she uttered, staring at the lovely meal she suddenly didn’t want.
“What was he like?” Hunter stroked her shoulder, but it didn’t feel like he was taking advantage of her vulnerability. He was different from the other bikers she knew in many ways and even spoke a bit more proper than Ray. Maybe it was because of his birth family?
Asty smiled. “A hothead. He butted heads with Tooth sometimes because of that. But he was very loyal and strong and caring.”
“I’m sorry I brought it up. I’m sure he lived knowing he had a loving family and brothers that always had his back.”
Asty nodded and reluctantly rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in his cologne, which at the moment was more soothing than arousing. “He will never be forgotten.” She cleared her throat. “How about you? Did you lose someone important?”
“Promise you won’t laugh, okay?” Hunter took a deep breath.
Asty looked into his eyes, intrigued. It was strange to be so close to him without being sexual, but she liked it more than she’d like to admit. “Promise.”
“I lost God. I grew up with him everywhere in the house, heard of him at school and at church, and everyone around me believed in him. I thought that if I only tried harder, I’d feel his presence like they said they did. But when I got to my teens, religion just didn’t make sense anymore. I didn’t feel the presence of God, I didn’t see a reason to follow rules someone made up hundreds of years ago, you know? Lots of them are contradictory anyway … but what I mean is that when I owned up to my lack of faith, I did sort of feel I lost something, but I just couldn’t go on pretending.”
Asty swallowed hard and slowly stroked his hand under the table. She didn’t frequently discuss those things with people who had a different perspective on spirituality than her own. “I’m sorry. That must have been very hard. I can only imagine how confusing this had to be.”
“You lose a sense of order, you lose the way you structure your life, and there’s always this niggling feeling that maybe your family is right. Maybe you did get tempted by the devil, and you will be going to hell. But I gained so much more instead. Autonomy of thinking, the right to assess things on my own terms ...” Hunter entwined his fingers with hers, and his hand was so big it got her heart racing. “That’s why I hated prospecting, I suppose. I like the brotherhood of a club, it’s a family I’ve lost, but I don’t like to just blindly believe what others tell me.”
Asty nodded, looking at him with a completely new perspective. It might have been her preconceptions, but she didn’t expect him to be this smart and eloquent. She understood him so well. “I would hate that too. I never really fit in anywhere. But Satan welcomes everyone. You don’t need to be afraid of him.”
Hunter smiled. “Is that what you got taught at home? I can just picture this. Sunday morning, breakfast with the family. Deviled eggs.”
Asty snorted and poked his jaw with the side of her head. “Stupid. It’s not like we need to pray to him before each meal and dedicate food to him. He supports those who are independent and don’t follow the herd. We’re both safe.”
“Are we though?” Hunter wiggled his eyebrows. “You didn’t sacrifice me in that ritual you did, did you? My dick’s not gonna fall off?”
Asty shook her head, bewitched by the smile in his eyes. “I wouldn’t sacrifice innocent people. Real Satanists would never do that,” she felt she needed to add. Most people had the strangest preconceptions about her faith.
Hunter cocked his head. “So you actually are a Satanist?”
Asty shrugged. “Technically, I’m a Demonolater. Just like there are many kinds of Christians, there are many kinds of Satanists.” She wanted to continue, but all of a sudden, there was a pale hand knocking on their table, and her mouth dried.
“Astaroth Horton! I hardly recognized you with all that makeup.” The smooth feminine voice tickled something ugly deep in Asty’s stomach even before she looked at the pretty face of Lilly, her high school nemesis. Framed by cherry-colored hai
r, adorned by a discrete septum piercing and subtle cat-eye makeup, Lilly looked like the most socially acceptable of goths in her little black dress and leather jacket. She was still slim and tall with clear skin and bright eyes. She was one of those people who only used transparent powder and claimed they detested girls who wore foundation in the summer, despite never having any skin problems themselves.
Asty hated Lilly for her smug comments and the way she had always picked on her, even though they had been technically in the same clique. She was the top bitch of the goths at Asty’s high school. She sang and played the keyboard in a band that got quite popular locally and once even won a competition held by a European goth fashion brand, which funded Lilly’s month-long stay in London. All Lilly had to do in return was model a few outfits for the website. Asty bought from them from time to time and begrudgingly looked at Lilly’s face every time she browsed through older items. It was almost as if Lilly got everything on a plate. The cool older guys chased her because she didn’t have the president of a motorcycle club as a father. Lilly never failed to mention Asty’s father to strangers whenever they went out together, and she always gave her stupid advice. Once, she even mailed Asty an ad about body hair because “she heard that Italian girls might have an issue with that.” What a cow. Beneath that beautiful face and model-worthy body hid a serpent ready to poison anyone who stood in her way. No matter how many times Asty had cursed Lilly nothing seemed to work. She must have had powerful demonic protection, which only made sense with all the havoc she’d wreaked.
“Hey, Lilly,” Asty mumbled and let go of Hunter’s hand, because her own was getting sweaty.
Split - Coffin Nails MC (Contemporary New Adult Erotic Dark Romance) (Sex & Mayhem Book 7) Page 9
