by DD Prince
I’d been in the bar not too long when he’d swooped in and dipped me again.
His jeans tonight were darker. A little frayed in places, but they fit him well. Too well. He had on a motorcycle club vest over a grey Henley. His biceps and shoulders looked particularly defined. He wasn’t wearing his fawn-colored cowboy boots. Instead, he had on black motorcycle boots with gunmetal hooks for his laces and buckles at the ankles.
His eyes seemed even more piercing. And his hair again looked and smelled great. And the lips? Just as pillowy-looking as I remembered. He took no time getting me into a clinch. I threaded my fingers into his hair. He did the same into mine, but a bit roughly as he kissed me.
He looked at me with sparkling eyes and walked me to the bar.
And then he took very little time to etch my name into his dance-with-no-pants card that night.
“I’ve been thinking about you non-stop since the other night,” he whispered in my ear. “Thinkin’ I got a taste for some more lollipop.”
“Hm. Yet, you didn’t call?” I challenged, taking a mouthful of my beer but doing it sort of seductively, guiding it to my lips with my tongue.
He smirked. "I lost your number, Starlet. Sad but true. Real happy you turned back up here tonight. Were you lookin’ for me?”
"Starlet?”
“Yeah, you’re as gorgeous as a movie star. You lookin’ for me, babe?”
“No, but it’s been a nice side-effect.” I didn’t bother pointing out that he’d put my number into his phone, so I wasn’t sure how he could’ve lost it.
He smiled, “Yeah? How ‘bout I take you home tonight? You got your own place?”
I was pretty sure I’d told him I did. Despite my being hammered, I actually remembered it specifically. Maybe he was as drunk as I was. The alternative, that our conversation and moreover, our kissing, wasn’t memorable enough was something I refused to consider. Well, I was trying to stop myself from considering it…
“Mm, maybe.”
“Then maybe we should go there.” He moved in and bit me where my neck met my shoulder.
“Ouch,” I shivered, “Hungry much?” That was sort of sexy but it also sort of stung.
“Starved,” he replied huskily and kissed the spot he bit.
“How about we close this joint and see how hungry you are then?” I teased.
“Deal. Only if you can handle feeding an extremely famished man. But fair warning, if I’m starvin’ now, I could be hard to handle in a couple hours.” He nuzzled his nose behind my ear and then his tongue was in my ear.
Whoa. I felt that right between my legs. That tongue swirl showed some dexterity.
“Oh, I think I can handle it,” I said, with confidence. “But starving or not, that doesn’t mean you’re gonna close the deal tonight, there, handsome.”
“We’ll see. I can be pretty irresistible,” he warned.
That was usually my line. But it wasn’t something I usually said aloud.
Ella re-joined us, looking really freaked out. She’d been hauled away by Rider’s brother, who was also smokin’ smoking hot. Turned out, we were swooning over brothers.
Rider’s brother Deacon was the one who rescued her from the Circle J armed robbery the night before. Ella and I’d already had a quiet moment in the ladies’ room where she confided that she’d stressed about the fact that my biker might’ve been the same guy who’d rescued her, and she was worried that we were both in lust with the same guy.
I’d joked that if we both married our bikers we’d wind up sisters. She’d been like a sister to me almost all my life anyway.
Deacon had proven himself chivalrous. In addition to saving her the night before, he also chased off Ella’s ex, Jay, who was sort of being stalker-weird at that bar that night. Jay had come in after our pow wow that morning and overheard Pippa on the phone with her boyfriend Joe, telling him about our plans, so I was icked-out by him showing up that night at Deke’s Roadhouse.
Rider’s other brother Spencer was also present, and he was also a hottie. He had a John Mayer vibe goin’ on. Pouty mouth. Chin cleft. Short at the sides and floppy on top pompadour hairstyle. But, after less than five minutes in his presence, my alpha-hole radar started going off. He was definitely at little bit of an alpha-hole.
He was drunk when we got here, and he’d been undressing Ella with his eyes ever since. Deacon looked like he was itching to punch Spencer in the mouth.
Ella’s dad’s band was performing at the bar that night and they started playing Journey’s Open Arms. Turned out Rider’s father was owner of the bar, and the Valentine brothers also owned the adjacent two businesses. And, Rider’s father was President of this new chapter of the Dominion Brotherhood MC.
I loved this song. I made a swoony face, I guess, because Rider took the hint, grabbed my hand and took me to the dance floor and he was light and smooth on his feet.
Wow.
I took dance lessons from age 3 until I was 14 and hadn’t had a non-professional dance partner as smooth as him…ever. He might have even rivaled some of the professional partners.
I was feeling a little bit tipsy. And more than a little bit lightheaded at being in his arms. Rider was tall and lean, but he had muscle. Broad shoulders, a tight stomach. A super-tight ass. I felt safe. I really liked that feeling.
But then I felt something weird in the pit of my stomach as he spun and twirled me around, singing in my ear. There was a sharp tugging, pulling inside of me. I know we’d only just met so the song he was singing, he was just singing, it’s not like he was singing it to me as if to say he felt about me the way Steve Perry felt in that song.
But then, he kissed me, and it felt like… like no kiss I’d ever felt. It felt like he was it for me. The room was spinning, but we were still. We were the only solid thing in that place. He felt like the one. The one me, Ella, and her gran talked about. The man that was perfectly designed for me. The only man that could make me feel like there was a possibility of happiness with one other person for the rest of my life.
It was silly to feel like this so soon after meeting a guy who wasn’t even my type and I was a little freaked out, but a whole lot something else…
Ella’s grandmother, Gran Izzy, had set the bar high with us since we were little, telling us it was better to be alone than be with a man who didn’t deserve us. Could this beautiful biker in front of me deserve me? Or, was he just a charmer? Was I just ready for something real and wanting it so badly that I was trying to make it so?
We made out on the dance floor so hot and heavy that we heard whistles and catcalls afterwards. The music had long stopped and there were a lot of eyes on us.
“I’m taking you home,” he said against my mouth.
I nodded. I was a little dizzy. I needed to lay down. With him on top of me.
“I need your hot body naked against me. Can’t wait for last call.”
I nodded again, enthusiastically. He also had mindreading talents, evidently.
“Pippa, take care of Ella,” I said, passing her on our way out. “See you later. Going back to our place. Put Ella on the couch. Get her blankets?” If Ella got smashed, she’d fall asleep anywhere. She’d need someone’s help getting to the couch.
Even drunk, Pippa was an expert at taking care of drunk people; almost as much as Sober Ella. I should know; as my roommate, she’d had to take care of my inebriated ass many times.
She saluted me. We got outside, I was nearly jogging behind him to keep up, and then I saw a small crowd gathered, watching something. Was there a fight?
Oh. Nope.
It was a rare Ella Show. Ella kicked her foot high and her shoe sailed across the parking lot and landed on the windshield of her dad’s truck.
Damn. I hated missing an Ella Show. She was my sensible bestie, but on the rare occasion she let her hair down, it was always entertaining. Rider was leading me in the other direction, and as much as I loved an Ella Show, I had one purpose. I was all about getting alone and na
ked underneath this beautiful biker. He flagged someone over. Two bikers followed us. Rider tossed his keys high and a dark haired super-sexy biker caught them.
Where the fudge did all these hot bikers come from?
He opened a car door and hit the thing that made the front seat fold over and waved me in.
One biker got in the front and Rider and I climbed in back. The other biker got into a car beside the muscle car.
“What’s happening?” I inquired.
“Jesse’s gettin’ us home. Mick’s followin’ in his car to take Jess back, leaving my car for the morning.”
“Oh. You’re stayin’ all night, are you?” I asked, leaning into him.
“Gonna need all night for what I have planned for this beautiful body. These are our D.D’s for the night.”
“D.D’s?”
“We always have members on hand sober at a night like this. Sometimes I’m that sober one. That usually sucks.”
“I bet.” I leaned in toward him.
He met me half way and caught my lips with his and grabbed a handful of my hair to hold me to his mouth. My breath caught.
“Easy, there,” I extracted my hair from his hand. He was being quite passionate, but he’d pulled it a bit roughly.
“No way I’ll go easy on you,” he said, his mouth at my ear, “That’d be a fuckin’ waste of a night. A night where you’ve spent the whole night making promises to me.”
I giggled and started kissing him. His tongue was in my mouth and I was seriously horny. And drunk. And did I mention horny?
“I promised nothing…”
“With your words, no, but with your body language, with those bedroom eyes? Fuck yeah you did.” His thumb slid across my nipple.
And something about his seriousness turned my bones to water.
“Where we goin’, Ride?” The guy who was driving asked.
I called out my address and in no time at all, we were there. I was half way to climaxing by the time we were, though, because he had his hand in my shirt, he’d been rubbing me between my legs over my jeans, and I’d grabbed his package and gave it a squeeze.
“Ooh,” I said against his mouth as I squeezed. “This seems rather promising.”
“Fuck, yeah, gorgeous. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
That was when I noticed we’d stopped. Home. Where the bed was. Yessss…
His hot biker buddy gave him keys and I fumbled to find mine. They exchanged looks and I caught a glimpse of something shiny pass between them. Did Rider just pass the other guy a gun? I did a double-take. Maybe that wasn’t a gun.
The two bikers left in the other car and I went to the back staircase. Rider following me.
“That was nice of them,” I pointed out, trying to decide whether or not to ask if that was a gun.
My salon, having the upstairs apartment, was in a free-standing building, but from the back there was an alley to the left that could take you to the front entrance and the space between buildings on the right was too small for even a person to fit through. I had a back roof terrace that overlooked the parking lot and there were rigged bridges on both sides from the roofs so that neighbors could easily travel from roof to roof. I had a back staircase from the parking lot up to my apartment. We could’ve also gone in from the front, as there was a door beside my salon’s storefront that had a tall staircase that led upstairs.
Before I could finish pondering about the gun, he started to kiss me. He kissed me all the way up the stairs. He was ridiculously good at kissing. I couldn’t stop touching his hair. I wanted him inside me. Badly.
The terrace was big, it had an overhang, and I often used it like a car-port. We’d had a party a year or so back to coerce a bunch of friends and neighbors to lay patio stones on my section of it, but it didn’t have railings around 1/3 of the perimeter. My ex-boyfriend Ryan had been the one who’d gotten the project started, but hadn’t finished. He gave up putting effort into us (I was too high-maintenance. Whatever.) and on my deck, so there was still a stack of lattice and a bunch of lumber to go up.
We had a patio with a chimenea and some Adirondack chairs around it. I had a little barbecue, too, and then a covered door that had trellis surrounding it, which I’d woven fairy lights and a fake (but pretty) zero maintenance ivy plant through. This led to my kick-ass kitchen and then we were in the hallway that led off the kitchen to the two bedrooms, the main bathroom, and then it opened up into my spacious living room, which had a wall of windows that overlooked the main street. My windows were covered with white sheers with jewel-toned polka dots on them. They were currently pulled back with sashes and you could see the traffic lights from the street below. My living room had white walls and white leather furniture with jewel toned throw pillows in turquoise, pink, and yellow. I had glass coffee and end tables. And a disco ball that hung from the ceiling. My salon and apartment were between a bakery and a health food store. It smelled amazing in the mornings, when the baking got going, and every day I woke to the smell of baked goods. It was a good thing that aroma didn’t have calories, or I’d be 600 pounds.
I had great neighbors, too, and we often cruised from roof to roof with drinks and appetizers, at night. Andie was generous with the baked goods. My neighbor on the other side, Lara and her husband Andre did amazing things with Triscuits and their toaster oven. I frequently handed out free booze and I had the kick-ass chimenea.
Rider and I were all over one another on the way to my bedroom, which was huge and kick-ass, done in champagne, peach, mauve, and teal with a big ensuite bathroom.
I couldn’t wait to feel him all over.
I had a fleeting thought, as we kissed our way into my bedroom, while I was undoing the third button on his shirt and scoring his chest with my nails as I did it hungrily, that I might slip out in the morning for warm croissants for breakfast for us. I had about a dozen jars of various jams in my fridge from a recent bake sale at Ella’s grandmother’s nursing home. Did I have coffee? Probably. Milk? Hm. Maybe not. But, I had some French vanilla creamer. Or, I could dash to the coffee shop on the next block.
We were in my room. My room had a big bed with a ruffled white duvet that was ridiculously expensive. I didn’t sleep with it on, it was just for show, along with the dozen or so pillows that made it look like it was a set in a magazine shoot.
“One sec, I’ll get this off.”
I pulled away from him and started lifting my pillows up to put them on the trunk at the wall by my bed.
He let out a little growl and had my shirt and was pulling it over my head. “Let’s get this off. Then let’s get you off. Then me, off.” His lips vibrated against the back of my shoulder. “Then you again, huh?”
“One sec,” I giggled, glancing over my shoulder while trying to set my pillows nicely on the trunk. I was now in my bra, jeans, and high heels, and he was drinking me in with those gorgeous eyes, his front teeth rooted in his full bottom lip.
He spun me around, picked me up by the waist and tossed me onto the bed. He threw his shirt over his head and it landed behind him somewhere.
As I landed, I bounced, and it made me giggle.
“One sec, I just need to get this duvet off.” I tried to sit up.
“What?” He laughed, pinning me on my back, his mouth on my stomach, moving up as he worked my jeans buttons undone.
“My duvet has to come off. It’s white. Watch your boots.” I had a champagne-colored carpet and hoped his boots weren’t full of mud. Most people knew to take their shoes off at the door when they saw all my lush carpet coming in. But, his eyes had been on me, or closed, as we’d made out all the way in. I had a steam cleaner, so it was okay, if there wound up being mud.
He leaned back and looked at me like I was from outer space.
“One sec. Up!” I rolled off to the floor, landing softly on my knees, and then I waved him off the bed.
He stood up, his eyebrows furrowed as he scratched his chin. I pulled the bedspread over and over so that it
was folded as I went and then set it down across my hope chest.
Underneath the duvet was a pale peachy-pink comforter that I actually used, and there were still six pillows on my California king-sized bed with the plush mauve heaboard. I grabbed him by his belt buckle and pulled him toward me.
“Fuck, babe,” he was rolling his eyes.
“Sorry, it’s like $1700 for that duvet. It’s just for show. We’re good. There. See?”
“You sure?” he asked, looking a little annoyed.
“Oh yeah,” I said, moving toward him. I pushed him back and climbed up.
He smiled as his head hit the pillows.
“Damn, your hair looks awesome on my pillow,” I said, and then I caught my first glimpse of his naked upper body.
Gulp.
I ran my hands up his chest. It was sexy. He had lots of ink on his muscular arms. Full sleeves up to his shoulders. Loads of tattoos. Letters, pictures, logos. His MC logo, his last name, black roses, an eagle. A really cool vintage-looking motorcycle. The tattoos were all black and grey and it was like a beautiful muted canvas. His chest had zero tatts. I ran my hands over his silky muscled hairless chest. His right nipple was pierced. Holy shit, that was hot. A silver ring was there.
I tongued it. He made a sexy man-moan that vibrated between my legs and then I was undoing his pants.
Commando. And wow.
When his dick was out, I just about choked on my tongue. Not only was it extra-thick, but it was also pierced, just below the head.
I ran my thumb over the two side-by-side silver studs. I looked up at his face. His eyes were looking smug. He put his hand behind his head.
“Like what you see, gorgeous?”
I’d never been with a guy who was pierced down there before. I stared at it a minute.
He also had a tattooed black shaded heart on his pelvis, to the right, a raised scar going through it and done up like an arrow, with the name Valentine in white tiny script.
“Appendix scar?” I asked.
“Mm hm,” he answered.
“I got one, too.” I informed him.
“Show me,” he commanded, huskily.
“In a minute,” I whispered, and my eyes moved back to his dick. Maybe I stared at it too long, because he flipped me and then I was on my back. I was still in my bra and my jeans and I still had stilettos on. I kicked them off and his hand went to my undone jeans. He pulled them down and off, leaving me in my demi cup red and black silky bra and red Spandex thong.
