Joyride: (Beautiful Biker MC Romance Series)

by DD Prince

  I didn’t see any. I got to the front door and peered out the window to see which vehicle Rider had brought. It was his orange muscle car and it was parked right beside Jesse's pickup truck.

  Okay, so no keys. I'd have to take my chances on foot. A ten-minute drive to the store? I could maybe walk it in an hour, hour and a half then.

  If I went the right way. If. Ugh.

  Better than lying in wait, wondering about my fate.

  Decision made.

  I spotted a big giant baton flashlight, like the ones the cops use, sitting on top of the refrigerator, so I nabbed it and got back to the front door. This was heavy. It’d light my way and if needed, be a tool to fight off anything that tried to come at me. I tried the flashlight. It worked, so I flicked it back off.

  God, I hoped nothing tried to come at me. I’d find a payphone or a person who would let me use their phone and I’d call for help.

  Call who, though? I didn’t have my phone, so that meant I didn’t know any numbers by heart. Cell phones made memorizing phone numbers redundant. Except in a case like this. I knew my parents’ landline by heart, but I did not want to call them if I didn’t have to.

  “Bikers, Jenna?” Mom’s earworm worked its way through my brain again.

  I remembered Ella’s house line off by heart, too, though. Her parents still had a landline, they'd had the same number since forever.

  Okay, I’d call her house collect and beg Rob or Bertie not to tell the Doms about me calling. I’d impress upon Rob that these guys were not our friends. The Forkers would get me help. Or I’d take a cab and put the cab fare on plastic. It’d be better if I had my phone. I could use my map app. I could try to call a cab or an Uber. Book a room in a nearby hotel and hunker down and figure out what to do, how to get to Ella so I could get her away from Deacon.

  Since I didn’t have my phone, I’d just have to take my chances.

  I turned the deadbolt and that was when I felt a hand clamp around my wrist.

  I gasped.

  Rider had my wrist. Where’d he come from? One of the couches?

  “What’re you doin’?” he sounded exasperated.

  Unfortunately, I’m not well-versed in the combat stance and because I was opening the front door with my right hand, I had the ginormous flashlight in my left hand, which wasn’t my dominant hand.

  I swung for him. He caught the flashlight before it connected with his head and then it fell, and I jumped, but it landed on my foot and it effing hurt.

  “Ow!” I screeched.

  Lights went on and Jesse was sprinting up the stairs at the back hall and Rider had me, his arms around me. Bronto was coming up behind Jesse.

  “C’mon. You can’t go runnin’ off in the dark, babe. We’re in the middle of nowhere. What’re ya doin? Tryin’ to bash my brains in? What the fuck did I do to earn that?”

  “Let me outta---” I demanded, and he had me in a way that pinned my arms against my body. I bucked and struggled against his hold. I caught sight of Bronto, who was now blocking the front door with his big body.

  I went lax in his hold and he set me on my feet.

  “C’mon, Jenna. Just---” Rider started, turning me by my shoulders to face him.

  “Let me fucking go!” I screamed in his face, “I’m not staying here where your enemies can get to me or where you and your dirt bag biker buddies can decide I’m not worth the trouble and dispose of me yourself. Let. Me. Go!”

  “You’re not goin’ anywhere. Enough!” he snapped.

  I swung, and my fist hit his nose. But, it was kind of a girlie punch, so he startled, but it didn’t slow him down.

  He hefted me up and carried me, while I kicked and flailed, into the bedroom I’d come out of, and then I was on the bed, him on top of me holding me down.

  “Settle the fuck down!”

  “Fuck you,” I struggled.

  “Jenna!” he hollered, and I froze.

  “Lemme go.” My lip quivered.

  He let out a breath and his voice dropped an octave. His anger looked like it was the same, though. “Jackals do not know about this place. No one’s comin’ tonight. You can sleep. Go to sleep. We’ll get it figured out tomorrow. All right?”

  “No. Eff you. You have no right to keep me here. And I don’t trust you any more than I’d trust a Wyld Jackal.”

  He sighed and then shouted, “Jess!”

  Jesse stepped in.

  “Get me the cuffs,” Rider said. “They’re on the wall behind the bar downstairs.”

  Jesse disappeared.

  “Jesse, no!” I hollered. “Don’t you dare!” I snapped at Rider.

  “Stop fuckin’ around so I won’t have to.”

  “Go fuck yourself!”

  Jesse was back with handcuffs. Rider took them, and one clicked into place as he slapped it onto one of my wrists.

  “No!” I screamed bloody murder and wrestled with him some more.

  “Kill the light,” Rider said to Jesse, who then gave him a salute with his index and middle fingers, and then flicked the light out and shut the door on his way out.

  Now, I was struggling in the dark when he pulled my other arm up and I knew he wrapped the cuffs around the heavy white enamel headboard with all sorts of curlicues, managing to do that while still keeping a grip on me. My other wrist got shackled and I started to shout.

  “No! You are not doing this to me! I’ll shout bloody murder all fucking night long. I told people before your goons got to me what was what with you fucking people and if anything happens to me, you will go down! If you let me go right now, I won’t tell anyone else you’re a filthy fucking rapist pig.”

  The last part was a lie. No one knew about that video but Ella.

  The light went back on and he was glaring at me. And my blood ran cold at the look in his eyes.

  He leaned forward, way too close to me. So close I froze, in fear.

  “I. Didn’t. Rape her.”

  “Whatever,” I challenged, matching his tone. “Ask me if I care.”

  “I didn’t fucking do that, Jenna. It was a game. That’s all. She was pulling one over on us. We were just drunk guys gettin’ laid and doin’ some role playing with a very, very willing girl. That’s all.”

  Gross.

  “Ask. Me. If. I. Fucking. Care!”

  “Do you care?” he asked, softly.

  I pulled against the cuffs. This headboard was solid.

  Goddamnit!

  “No! I don’t fucking care. Take me home.”

  “I haven’t slept a full night in three nights, maybe longer since I had a solid night’s sleep.”

  “Then, Bronto can---”

  “Those guys aren’t goin’, either. It’s four o’clock in the goddamn morning. Go the fuck to sleep.”

  He got up and flicked the light off.

  And I was seething at not just this whole effed up situation, but also at the audacity he had talking to me like that!

  “You won’t get sleep tonight either, because I will shout, and I’ll holler, and I’ll sing Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall in four languages!” I threatened.

  “I got duct tape,” I heard from outside the door.

  Jesse. Damn it!

  “Want me to use that duct tape, Jenna?” Rider asked, in the dark.

  I didn’t answer.

  Fucking Jesse.

  “More shoutin’ from you and I’ll be tempted,” he warned. And then I heard rustling noises.

  “Let me out of these cuffs. I’ll go to sleep,” I relented.

  “Can’t.”

  “I’m gonna go to sleep,” I sort of whined.

  “Good.” I heard more rustling. What I didn’t hear was the sound of him unlocking the handcuffs.

  “Then let me out.”

  “Can’t,” he said, through a yawn.

  “Why?”

  “Dunno where the key is.”

  Please tell me he was kidding.

  “What?”

  I felt the
bed shift. And then his hair was tickling my face. He was leaning over me.

  I tried to shrink into the pillow.

  “I had to think fast to get you under control.”

  “And you didn’t think about the fact that you don’t know where the keys are?” I snapped.

  “Nope,” he replied and flicked the blanket out from under me and then pulled it over me. He yawned again. He was under the blankets with me.

  No. Oh, hell no. He wasn’t. He wasn’t gonna try to sleep here with me.

  Was he?

  “Uh… what do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.

  “Crashin’. If you’d shut up.”

  Whoa. He had nerve.

  “If I’d shut up?”

  He sighed.

  “You’re not sleeping in the same bed as me,” I told him, shifting to try to get more comfortable, which wasn’t easy with my wrists cuffed above my head.

  “And what’re you gonna do to stop me?” he challenged.

  I glared in the dark. He sounded like he thought this was funny.

  “You’re not funny.”

  “Yeah, well you are.”

  “What about this is funny?”

  “Maybe I’ll share that with you if you let me get a few hours of sleep.”

  “This is not remotely funny. Find the key.”

  “Too tired.”

  “Then make them find the key.”

  “They’ve had enough of your shit for tonight.”

  “My shit?”

  Silence.

  “My shit?” I got louder.

  “Baby, go to sleep.”

  “At least sleep somewhere else,” I ordered.

  He didn’t reply.

  “This isn’t funny,” I told him.

  “Go to sleep, gorgeous. We’ll see how funny it is or isn’t, when I get at least five or six hours of sleep, please, Jesus.”

  “This bed ain’t big enough,” I told him. It was just a double and he was a tall guy with big shoulders and so it really wasn’t, unless you wanted to cuddle, and I really didn’t want to cuddle with him.

  And then I tried shoving him with my feet. He firmly planted himself in the bed and grabbed my ankles and was holding them still. I kept trying to kick. He tightened his grip to the point of pain.

  “Stop kicking or I’ll find another set of cuffs.”

  “It’s not big enough for two people, Rider.”

  “It also doesn’t have a $1700 duvet,” he retorted.

  I had no response to that, mostly because it sounded like something he and I had used as a joke, as fun and sexy banter, was now being used against me in a way that made it seem like he was cutting me down for having an expensive duvet on my bed. And that was low.

  “I can hand out low blows, too, Rider Valentine,” I finally muttered, after way too long for it to be anything but obvious that I’d been lying there stewing on it.

  He snickered, “Calling me a rapist pig wasn’t a low blow, babe?”

  I huffed.

  “I didn’t rape anyone, Jenna.”

  “Good for you,” I bit off. “You want a medal?”

  “Goodnight,” he said. “I gotta sleep. I gotta sleep or I’m gonna be puking my guts out soon, baby. Okay? Almost seein’ fuckin double all the way here.”

  I didn’t answer. I wanted to ask, “Why’d you come?” I also wanted to tell him I wasn’t his ‘baby’.

  But, I knew that if I did either, my voice would betray my emotions. Emotions I didn’t have the strength or fortitude of mind to sift through right now.

  Why didn’t he just let me stay with Jesse and Bronto until the morning? They had things in hand.

  I didn’t ask. I also didn’t roll the other way, because I couldn’t. Our sides were touching on this double bed and I couldn’t move away because my arms were cuffed over my head.

  I had no choice but to try to go to sleep. Trapped on my back with my arms immobile, stuck beside and touching (due to proximity) a guy I did not want to be beside.

  ***

  I was there, close to him, way too close to him, hearing him breathe evenly in sleep, and beginning to drift, when he cocked his leg over mine. And I shuffled to try to make him go away. And he didn’t. His arm draped over my stomach, too, and I could feel his breath warm against my upper arm.

  "Get off," I demanded.

  “You want me to get you off?” he muttered, teasingly, sleepily.

  “Move.”

  “Shh. Sleep.”

  “Rider…”

  “Stop talking or I’ll make you stop talking.”

  “You put duct tape anywhere near my face and you’ll wish you were never born.”

  “Maybe I won’t use duct tape. Maybe I’ll find another way to shut you up.”

  He shifted and was leaning over me. His thumb, I think, moved up my neck, up my chin, then across my lower lip.

  I drew a sharp intake of breath. How dare he!

  I didn’t speak. I jerked my head the other way.

  He let go of my lip and then, after about a minute, he was breathing even and heavy, sounding asleep. And he’d thrown his arm over me again.

  This situation? Man, I’d really gotten myself into a pickle this time.

  I didn’t know what the heck tomorrow would bring. I was feeling confident that he probably wasn’t gonna kill me. If he was going to, he’d have done it. But, that didn’t settle me much. I couldn’t toss and turn, and I couldn’t get comfortable. But, somehow, I eventually fell asleep. Being cuddled by him. And I was no longer mad. I was feeling something far more lethal.

  Hurt.

  8

  I was dreaming of him. He was making love to me, whispering and calling me beautiful and gorgeous, his fingers in my hair, his lips on mine. I was licking his lower lip, then sucking on his tongue. I was feeling his cock sliding in and out, really slowly, all the way in, then all the way out, and that piercing kept hitting my clit on every inward glide. I was panting and saying his name. Tingles revving up between my legs. And then, as it hit me, I woke up.

  I woke up mid back arch, mid gasp, mid-ORGASM.

  Oh shit!

  That wasn’t a sleep-orgasm. He was here, outside my dreams, in the room I was in, holding me, making love to me, leaned over me and looking into my eyes, propped on his forearms, which were planted near my armpits, both hands holding my face, as he moved inside of me, his gorgeous turquoise eyes emitting heat. I cried, huge, straight into his mouth as he kissed me. He groaned and collapsed on top of me.

  I was panting. Blinking rapidly. Attempting to process.

  “What the fu-fuck?” I whispered from underneath a curtain of his hair, which was over my face, smelling like green apples. He was breathing into my throat, his heart hammering into my chest.

  He gave me a lazy smile and kissed my lips. And then he was nibbling on my ears, my throat, nipping at my chin with his teeth.

  I went to push him, but I heard the sound of metal against iron. Or whatever against whatever. I couldn’t push him. My wrists were cuffed to the headboard still, and I’d pulled so hard I could feel my body protest, pain shooting up my sides.

  “What the fuck?” I said, a little louder.

  He frowned.

  “Sleep-fucking, gorgeous. Fun stuff.” He brushed hair out of my eyes and got up, pulling his dark blue track pants back up, as they’d been just down enough for him to fuck me.

  I was in shock.

  He’d fucked me while I was sleeping. And I came. And as I saw him put that pierced beast away, it registered that it was un-fucking-gloved.

  He came inside me. He came----

  “Uncuff. Un-c-cuff!”

  He looked at me with curiosity.

  “UNFUCKING CUFF! Find the key. FINDTHEKEY. Find the motherfucking key!”

  He put a knee to the bed and leaned over me, touching my face. He was calm. I was absolutely not.

  “You were grindin’ on me. I was sleepin’ and you whispered my name in my ear in that sexy fucking
voice of yours. It was just sleep fuckin’, gorgeous. It was a nice way to wake up. Never woke up like that before and gotta say, I liked it.”

  “Find the key, Rider!” I shouted, pulling on my restraints, my fists clenched. He smirked. Smirked! God, I wanted to punch him in the face. He was being so cocky.

  My heart was pounding so hard I was afraid it would explode out of my chest and splat into the ceiling.

  “Or a chainsaw or a fucking bomb. I don’t care, Rider. I want out of this bed and I want out now!”

  “Okay, darlin’. I’ll see what I can find.” He sauntered out of the room, no shirt, like he had all the time in the world, leaving me in the bed, freaking out. I started hyperventilating.

  He just had sex with me while I was asleep.

  And I came. Came! And how loud was I? Did the bikers in the basement hear that? Since when did I make so much noise during sex?

  But, I knew since when. And I refused to think about that and what it meant.

  I was so mortified. Why did I even dream he was making love to me when yesterday I saw a video of him gang-banging a girl with three other guys there? I was under the blankets and my jeans were at my feet. Sleep fucking, my eye… He’d gotten them undone and completely off. I doubt he was asleep when he did that, because no one had that kind of dexterity while they were asleep!

  My panties were also gone. Nope, wait… not gone, but they were around one ankle. I was covered by the blanket, but most of my right leg was exposed, so I tried to shuffle for better cover.

  Too long passed before he was back. But, at least he had two cups of coffee in his hands. He put them down on the dresser and then he turned back toward the door. I squeaked in protest as he left again.

  Five or ten minutes passed before he was back with a red toolbox.

  He rifled through it and then smiled.

  “Bingo.” He held up a key.

  All the air left my lungs as I let out a gusty breath of relief.

  “Now,” He held it in the air, looking mischievous. “You gonna be a good girl?”

  “Don’t you even…” I hissed.

  “Uh, uh, uh…” he wagged a finger at me, reprimanding, but with a playful smirk.