by Pink, Nikki
The biker’s strong London accent was all professional now. Earlier he’d been teasing, mocking, assholeish. Now he was stern and controlling, exercising authority. When he spoke he expected to be obeyed, and of course I did exactly what he said. My sister’s life was on the line. I was so glad he was there to take control and tell me what to do. Usually I’m the tough independent one, telling my little sister what to do and managing everything. But this situation wasn’t one I felt equipped to manage and it felt good that, for once in my life, someone else was taking control and making sure everything went okay. I needed that.
He pushed the bike fully upright with his right boot and rested the weight on his left as he raised the kickstand.
The whole time lights shone on us from fans snapping pictures and shooting video with their smartphones, the bright LED flashes like searchlights as they flew back and forth over us.
“Who is she?... What happened? … is Neal okay…?” and a thousand other questions were yelled at us.
A path had been cleared through them by the towering giant and another biker. Lonnie pushed the starter button on the bike and gave a little twist of his wrist, and faster than a hummingbird’s flap of a wing the noise of the crowd was drowned out by the deep thumping of the motorcycle engine.
I almost smiled when I saw a bunch of them jump back at the noise. Then we were off, flying down the road as I dug my fingers in tight to the English bastard in front of me. I held myself tight against my sister keeping her upright. I could still sense that if I let go she’d simply slump like a boneless sack of jelly.
Have you ever felt feelings of anger, almost hate, switch in just a moment? It’s confusing, it’s stupid, it’s annoying. But that’s what happened. One minute I was hating the arrogant English asshole who’d snatched my sister from me, the next I was clutching on to him as he rode to save my sister’s life and I was full of so much gratitude it made me sick.
Tears welled in my eyes as he drove us to the hospital in record time, the wind whipping only my ponytail as the rest of me sheltered pressed up against my innocent unconscious responsibility in front.
9
Lonnie
I figured out what was wrong with her as we flew down the highway. I let my right hand release the throttle a touch, dropping us back down to the speed limit. We didn’t have to set any land speed records getting there. She hadn’t had a drug overdose - not as such - she’d just taken the wrong drug.
When I found her she was lying on the floor and Si was standing over her with a panicked look on his face.
“What the fuck did you do to her? Her sister’s going mental out there.” I jerked my head toward the door.
“I don’t know mate! I racked up a couple of lines - one for me, one for her - but she just said yolo and hoovered them both up!”
“And she just collapsed?”
“Not right away. She had a few little sip of this,” he waved a two-thirds empty bottle of Jack Daniels at me, “and she just… keeled over.”
I checked and luckily she was still breathing as she lay on the thickly carpeted floor of the luxury hotel suite. I had to check one more thing.
“Si, did you give her any heavy?” I hoped like hell it wasn’t a heroin overdose. That’d be very bad on the first day of a tour. And the girl outside? Fuck. She’d probably rip my balls off.
He gulped. “No, no way. Of course not. Just a bit of charlie!” he waved a small bag of white powder in front me. “I don’t do that shit!”
“Don’t fuck around with me, I saw your arm, Si.”
He looked down, his brown hair drooping into his confused eyes as he inspected his arm as if seeing it for the first time. It was like he hadn’t even realized the telltale marks were visible up and down his left arm.
“I didn’t give her any fucking heroin!”
“Help me get her up. We’ve gotta get her to hospital.”
With Si’s bungling help I got the girl up on my shoulder in a fireman’s lift and headed out to deal with the raging little hottie outside. She was going to be pissed, unfortunately in the American sense of the word, not my native British. I rubbed my face in preparation as I headed back out to the hallway.
This tour was supposed to be a bit of fun not fucking work.
Riding on the motorcycle I had calmed down a bit from the confusion and excitement. Riding will do that for you. If you’ve got stress, you’ve got something to think about, something to sort through, just get on a bike, find a nice empty road and let the wind rip your worries away and fill your mind with fresh ideas.
Speeding down the road with the two sisters on my back I realized what had happened. Si hadn’t given her cocaine - if he had the girl would have been bouncing off the walls, or had a heart attack, instead of being in that woozy unconscious state she was in.
Nope, she hadn’t been on cocaine.
It was Special K. Ketamine
10
Ava
A fucking horse tranquilizer. Can you believe it? Apparently my little sister had taken some shit Lonnie called wonky donkey, a drug that’s used in the veterinary world to sedate animals, but in the real world by idiots who, for some reason, want to get paralyzed.
“I don’t think he knew what he was giving her, he thought it was coke,” said Lonnie, as I now knew his name to be. We were sitting on moulded plastic chairs in a too brightly lit waiting room while they ran a few more tests on her. We had been assured that she was going to be okay and a doctor would be out to see us in a minute.
“Supposed to be coke? As in cocaine?” I asked, incredulous.
Lonnie nodded apparently not noticing my horror. “Yeah apparently she hoovered it right up.”
Could it be true, I wondered, would my little sister do that? I couldn’t admit it, not even to myself, not yet.
“No way. That doesn’t sound like her.”
He shrugged. “If you say so. Don’t you think though that, perhaps, she’s not your good little girl anymore?”
“I don’t know what to think now.”
I rested my head on his shoulder. I was exhausted. I’d hit the gym in the morning, worked all day and then driven Lily out here straight after work and it was all catching up on me.
“It’s just you two? No folks?
I nodded. “Yeah. Just us. I’ve been looking after her since I was eighteen - that’s when they passed - she wasn’t yet thirteen then. It was all so sudden. I had to grow up real quick, you know? I’ve been big sister and surrogate-mother ever since.”
He put an arm over my shoulder and squeezed. A strong, tattooed arm that filled me with warmth I didn’t realize I was missing.
“Tough break, love.”
“You’re not entirely a bastard, are you?” I asked as I wiped a small tear away.
His surprised laughter was rich and honest. “Not entirely no. I take weekends and holidays off.”
“It’s Wednesday,” I said, laughing softly.
“Thursday actually. Must be a holiday in my country.”
I giggled. “What about you? Why aren’t you in your country?”
“Felt like a change.”
“Felt like a change? That’s it?”
“Isn’t it a good enough reason?”
“I guess. So why’d you want a change all of a sudden? And why’d you never go back.” I ran my fingers over the patch on his leather cut that read Sons of Mayhem. “You must have been here a long time, right?”
“Ten years I guess. I wasn’t planning to stay here that long. Wasn’t planning not to either. But I met some good people. Before I knew it, I was comfortable here. It felt so much less constricting, less depressing, less boxed in than home.”
“Don’t you miss London?”
He was silent a moment. “A bit. Didn’t really think about it until tonight, when I saw the band. I hadn’t seen them in so long I’d forgotten what it was like to banter with other Brits.”
“Wait. You knew the band?”
“Sure. Used
to live with most of ‘em. “
Huh. That was a surprise. Then again, they were from the same country.
Our conversation was interrupted by a polite cough and I lifted my head off his shoulder and forced my tired body to sit up straight. The doctor was here.
“We’ve done some tests and she’s going to be fine, though she’ll be groggy for a while. There’s traces of painkillers and ketamine still in her system. We’re going to keep her in overnight for observation but, barring unforeseen changes in her condition, she’ll be released soon after breakfast.”
I smiled tightly. “Thank you, doctor.”
I stood up and shook the doctor’s hand. Lonnie stood beside me.
“Come on,” he said when the doctor had left.
“Where to?” I asked
“I’ll give you a ride. Bring you back in the morning.”
I nodded, unthinking, acting on autopilot. He still had that alpha air of authority about him that had kicked in when he first found my sister. He ordered, I did. It felt right
11
Ava
I sat on the edge of the bed with the cell phone pressed against my ear. It began to ring and I waited for the voicemail to kick in. It was 1 a.m. and I was calling the work number of my boss to let him know I wouldn’t be in tomorrow. I had his cell number, but I definitely didn’t want to be calling that at this time of night. I’d considered sending a text message, but that didn’t seem professional enough.
“John Wickham,” he answered breezily.
Shit. Why the hell was he still at work at this time? Didn’t he ever sleep? I was so shocked I almost went to hang up, but he’d know it was me that called. Stupid modern technology and its caller IDs.
“It’s uh… I mean… Hi.” Shit, get it together. Try again. “It’s Ava. I’m sorry I can’t make it in tomorrow.”
“I see. How was the show?”
Shit. How’d he know about that? The only person I’d told was Carol. I let out a silent sigh. Carol. She was the closest thing I had to a friend at work but she was way too much of a gossip for her own good.
“The show was fine. It’s my sister. She’s in the hospital here. I need to take a personal day.”
“Another personal day? Okay Ava. See you soon.”
Before I could respond he hung up. Another personal day? I’d taken two previously early in the year. Once when Lily had her wisdom teeth removed, and then again for her high school graduation. Was I that bad?
“Fuck him,” said Lonnie. He had walked up to the edge of the bed while I was on the phone and was now offering me a cold can of beer.
Shit, he looked good. Not good if you’re into pretty boys in designer clothes, but good if you were into rougher, tougher, real men, Blue jeans, a white t-shirt, workboots, tats up his muscled arms. A lot of people think of Hugh Grant when they think of hot English guys. Not me. Nuh uh. Jason Statham, that’s more my kind. Lonnie was like a taller, more tattooed, younger Jason Statham. Well, that might be exaggerating it a bit. But not much. He looked good. The epitome of the cheeky good looking bastard bad boy.
I reached forward and grabbed the can from his hand, popped the top and took a greedy swallow immediately. Lonnie sat down next to me. I didn’t mind.
“Is your boss a bastard, too?” he asked.
“Yes. What do you mean, ‘too’?”
“Well you were quite insistent that I was a bastard earlier.”
I loved that accent. Loved it. It wasn’t one of the higher class (posh I think they said) accents, it was rougher. Harder but perhaps more honest.
“Well, you were a bastard earlier.”
He took a sip of beer as he moved his head closer to mine. So close. Hot breath on my cheek.
“I was, was I?”
I nodded. My heart was racing, my tiredness fading. What was going on with me. Was I going to do this, I wondered. Could I? With my sister in hospital I probably shouldn’t but, goddammit, I was just so fucking sick of everything lately. Sick of being a ‘mother’, sick of sucking up to my boss, sick of the daily grind. Shit. I just wanted to forget it all, to lose myself in something else. Someone else.
I haven’t had a proper relationship in years. Maybe never, actually, highschool doesn’t really count, right? But I’d gone on a few dates and sometimes they ended up in one night stands. I never wanted to commit; not because I was scared, but I was either too busy or they were simply not right. But sometimes I went all the way. I needed the release that only a good round of naked wrestling can bring.
So, to answer his question. “A complete,” I grabbed his chin with my free hand, “and utter bastard.”
I’d made my decision and suddenly our cold lips pressed against each other in furious energy, quickly turning hot as the chilling effect of the beer was overwhelmed by the heat of our blood. One night of stress relief was all I needed. Just one night.
Two half full cans of beer tumbled to the floor and then he was pushing me back onto the bed, his strong jean-clad thighs straddling me as my tight t-shirt slipped up and he ran powerful hands over my skin, not stopping, not shy, straight under my bra and I gasped and yanked at the back of his head pulling our lips back together as his fingers squeezed my aching breasts, hard nipples pressed into his tough hands.
There’s something about doing it in a hotel room instead of a regular bed. And there’s something about doing it with a guy you hardly know. And there’s something about doing it after a night of joy, terror, and crazed adrenaline. And then there’s something about the guy being dangerous, being rough, being tatted and being English. Any one of those things can turn a regular occasion into a night of wildness, but put it all together? You’re in for a wild ride.
Clothes disappeared and he threw me further up the bed so we were on it proper instead of half hanging off the edge. It had been too long since I’d had a man, and after years of looking after Lily, when I did find a man, I wanted him to look after me, to just take me and do me and release all the stress and worry I put myself through.
Lonnie was just the man for the job. He had enough bastard in him to do what he wanted, but not so much that it wasn’t what I wanted too.
In the late of the night there was only me and him, two hot and hungry bodies slick with sweat and excitement. The fears and worries of earlier faded into the inky blackness of post-midnight and all that was left was me grasping him, grasping his thick and oh-so-hard shaft while our tongues intertwined voraciously, never quite getting enough contact, enough heat, always hungry for more, more, more.
First he had fingers inside me while I squeezed and pumped him, my movements coming without thought, without consideration, doing only what felt right and natural. Pure animal instinct of two humans running on pure lust and adrenaline. Thick and strong, powerful and careful he teased me with his fingers but it wasn’t enough. I grabbed at his wrist and he knew what I wanted and removed himself from me. Two strong hands on my thighs, spreading them, forcing me open, making me willing.
I stretched out my arms to my sides, grabbing at the sheets. With arms and legs spread I was open as I could be, offering myself to him, now kneeling above me. He held himself just above me and I could feel the heat of his cock just a whisper above my desperate achingness.
“What am I?” he whispered down at me.
I thrust my hips up, trying to get at him, to get him inside me.
“A bastard! You’re a bastard!” I whispered hoarsely up at him. And he was. But this time he was the good kind of bastard.
He pushed my thrusting hips back down by pressing on my thighs and stared me in the eyes as he finally pushed himself deep, deep inside me.
“Oh fuuuu--”
Had anything ever in the world felt like this? I couldn’t believe it had otherwise this would be all anyone ever did. That powerful man above me, pressing himself in thick and deep made my body shake and moan in a way that will be forever etched in my soul.
“Am I still a bastard?” he whispered in my ear.
I bit my lip and nodded unable to speak but gasping each time he thrust into me again. I needed him in me harder, deeper, faster so I grasped at his back, nails digging in and raking his hot slick skin making red marks across the tattoos I could half-sense through my fingertips in the aching darkness of the room.
My scratching encouraged him and then he was forcing himself ever-harder into me shaking the bed mightily with each thrust and then I was moaning, then gasping then shrieking and lights exploded in front of my closed eyes, my body quaked and shook and I sucked in air as countless muscles spasmed and I lay there panting helplessly, spent for the moment.
My vision returned and I realized my legs were wrapped tight around him, my calves gripping his tight muscular ass as I encouraged him on, encouraged him to finish too and when he did it was with a guttural roar of triumph.
We lay panting, hot and wet with sweat and more and I found myself wondering why the air conditioning wasn’t on.
“Bloody hell,” he said between deep breaths.
I tried it on for size. “Bloody hell to you too.”
He laughed.
“What?”
“You haven’t got the accent for it.”
“Do too.”
“Nope. Sorry. It sounds ridiculous.”
“Bastard,” I said again and pulled his head down to my shoulder. “Bastard,” I whispered in his ear as a tear rolled down my cheek and my voice cracked.
I slept well that night. Some might say too well, considering my little sister was lying in a hospital bed recovering from a drug overdose. But shit, sometimes I need a break, and thanks to the limey bastard on top of me that night I got one. After what Lily had put me through I deserved a bit of me time, and the fact that me time came with a hot biker was a bonus.
Hell, it would only be one night anyway, wouldn’t it? A hot and heavy night of passion then off we’d go, me back to my daily grind and him off to do whatever bikers do when they’re not playing security guard.
