by Brook Wilder
Her eyes widened and she shook her head, “No. No, I haven’t.”
“Come on. You’re gonna love it.” She hesitated for a moment. “Trust me.” At his words, her expression cleared, calmed, and she nodded her ascent as he led her outside. She gave him the address of her house and he nodded, pulling his bike over so she could get on.
“Hold on a minute,” Carla said, running to her truck, swinging the passenger door open, and returning a moment later to hand him the keys and something else. It was his leather jacket, folded into the neatest square. He shook his head and a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he shook it out and held it out to Carla, once more offering it to her. She gave him a questioning look and he shrugged, for the first time that he could remember in his entire life, feeling self-conscious.
“It’s for protection, on the bike. Come on, just put it on.” He shook it at her again and, with a small smile, slid one arm in the too-big sleeve, and then the other. He stared at her, fighting the unfamiliar sensation of nerves and he hid it by putting the spare helmet on her head and buckling the strap. All the while she stood there, proud and excited and so beautiful it was hard for him to look at her.
Hastily, he threw on his own helmet and straddled the bike before showing her how to get on, where to put her feet. He groaned silently as her arms slid around his waist and he could feel the lush, firm globes of her breasts pressed against his back and he instantly regretted his decision. But at the same time, he reveled in the delicious contact. It just wasn’t enough, not nearly enough.
“Are you ready?” Joel yelled out behind him as he revved the engine to life.
“What?” Carla yelled back, trying to understand him over the noise.
“Are you ready?”
“Yeah!” the word was lost in a squeal of laughter as he pushed the throttle and pulled out of the lot, a part of him knew it was petty, but he was unable to keep the smile off his face at the sound of her delighted scream. And the feel of her holding on even tighter didn’t hurt, either.
The drive was almost an hour, made longer by the less direct route Joel took, trying to stretch each second into eternity, but all too soon they pulled in front of her house. It wasn’t in the best neighborhood, to say the least. and there was something about the tiny, dilapidated house that reminded him of his past. A past that was always with him no matter how hard he tried to forget, to leave it behind.
He slowed the bike to a stop in the cracked driveway, and threw down the kickstand before helping her off the motorcycle. His hands on her hips tightened of their own accord and he held her closer, unwilling or just unable to let her go. At least, not without a taste. Before he even realized what he was doing, his lips dropped to hers. He groaned when she leaned eagerly into him, slanting her mouth across his as they danced together, drugging him.
He slid his tongue along the seam of her lips, begging for entrance and she opened for him without hesitation. She was so sweet--unbearably sweet--and so addicting he didn’t want to stop. He wanted more. So much more. Carla’s movements against him drove him wild and he pushed her harder against the bike to keep her still with one hand while the other slid up from her hip, across her rib cage, and curled around her shoulder to spear into her hair to hold her head still for his onslaught.
Lust like a monsoon, more powerful than he’d ever experienced before threatened to drown him at her sweet, willing response and he knew if he didn’t stop soon he would take her then and there.
It took every ounce of willpower he had to pull away from her and they were both panting as if they’d run for miles. He rested his forehead against hers, fighting against his body’s instincts, until finally he stood and released her.
“Bye, Carla,” he forced out the words, barely able to speak past the desire running rampant through his system. She gave him a shy wave, her fingers touching her kiss-swollen lips and he almost took them again. With a growl he forced himself to turn away and swing his legs once more over the waiting bike. He had to adjust himself and gave up, resigned to the uncomfortable ride ahead of him. He was about to take off when her voice stopped him.
“Hey, wait!” She walked towards him, then slid off the jacket and held it out to him. He took it without a word, put it on and cursed himself as her warmth surrounded him, just as her scent did. It was a part of the jacket now, he thought. That rich, earthy, sweet smell of her. He forced himself not to look back as he drove away, the scent of her torturing him the rest of the ride back to the clubhouse.
Chapter 10
Carla shut the front door behind her with a sigh, and then leaned against it as her legs went out beneath her.
Holy shit! Holy, holy, holy shit. She pushed herself back to her feet, her hands tracing her still tingling lips in wonder. She could still feel his kiss, hot and powerful and unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.
She thought of all the tepid encounters with Trevor, her one and only serious relationship. The polite pecks he would give her, leaving her wanting--needing--more. Oh, buddy, was this more. So much more it was almost too much for her to wrap her mind around as she filled the small kettle with fresh water and put it on the stove top to heat.
That kiss had been…well, if she was honest with herself, that kiss had been hotter than any of the times she’d had sex; with Trevor, or anyone else. How was that even possible? That a single kiss could affect her more than intercourse.
Because it was Joel, a tiny voice inside her whispered. And the truth of it was in the way her body still trembled, the way she was wet and desperate with wanting him.
Her mind conjured the image from her dream and heat flashed into her cheeks. Of Joel, kissing all of her, a hell of a lot more than just her mouth. Of tying her up. Commanding her mind and body to wring every last drop of pleasure from her, and then still demanding more.
Carla shivered at the thought, in fear or anticipation, she wasn’t sure. Maybe a bit of both. She’d never tried anything other than what most people termed ‘vanilla’ sex, but she’d wondered. Trevor had been offended when she’d suggested trying something new in the bedroom, maybe bringing in some toys, as if she’d insulted him in some way. But the truth was, she was excited by the feelings that Joel’s dominant side drew out of her. And she wanted more.
The chime of the doorbell echoed through the small house, interrupting her fantasy, and Carla shook herself out of her kiss-induced stupor and wondered who it could be. She went to pull open the door and cracked a smile at the sight of Elle standing there in her calf-length skirt and cardigan, cat-eye glasses perfectly straight as she held out the plate of cookies.
“I come bringing gold,” her friend said with a laugh, “Well, sweets, anyway, which for you might as well be the same.”
Carla opened the door wide enough for her to come in, shutting it after she entered and set the plate on the small kitchen table. As soon as her friend turned around, Carla knew something was up.
“What is it, Elle?” she asked, sneaking around her to snag a cookie. Snickerdoodle. Her favorite.
“Listen, Carla, I don’t mean to pry but,” her tone said that was exactly what she meant to do, but Carla nodded for her to continue as she took a bite of the heavenly cookie. “Well, I’m your friend, right? And friends look out for each other, and, I’m just going to come right out and say it.” She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself, “I saw you with that…that rough looking biker guy and I’m worried about you. I think you should call the police.”
Carla was so busy eating the delicious piece of snickerdoodle that it took an extra moment for Elle’s words to register. Her eyes popped open in shock.
“You what?” Carla exclaimed, “You think I should call the cops. Why?”
“He looked dangerous, Carla. I just don’t want you to get hurt.” Her friend’s eyes pleaded with her to understand. She didn’t, but it made it so much harder to get angry because she knew Elle just did it out of honest concern for her.
“Elle, he�
�s not…” Carla was going to say he wasn’t dangerous, but from what she’d seen, she knew that in the rough life of the Dirty Cruisers, he had to be tough, or he wouldn’t have the respect of the other members that he did, “Joel’s a great guy, really. Once you get to know him.”
“And you know him?” she asked dubiously.
“Yeah, I do,” Carla nodded, and realized it was true. He’d shown her a different side than he showed the rest of the gang. A softer side. A kinder side. “I do know him, and he’s…he’s my boyfriend. We’ve, um, we’ve been dating for a while now. It’s not serious, but he’s really a good guy. You just have to trust me.”
“Well, why haven’t I seen him around, then?”
“It’s, uh, well we’ve been keeping things light, you know. Low-key. If you would just meet him, you’d realize the truth. I promise you.”
“I don’t know, Carla. It seems so risky.” This coming from the girl who rarely left her house, worked from home to teach piano lessons and even got her groceries delivered. Elle had a serious paranoid streak, but Carla realized she really did want her friend to like Joel. She wondered for a moment why it was important to her but was interrupted by the whistle of the kettle as the water started to boil. She poured two cups of tea, automatically pouring an obscene amount of sugar in Elle’s before setting it in front of her.
Carla retook her seat across from her friend and sipped silently at the steaming mug while she thought. An idea occurred to her and she sat up a little, leaning forward.
“Why don’t you come meet him? We can go the clubhouse and you can see for yourself.”
“I don’t know, Carla.” Elle smoothed down her clothes, her uncomfortableness at the suggestion warring with her concern for her friend. Finally, her expression cleared and she nodded, once, firmly, sending her cat-eye glass slipping down her nose.
“Okay. I’ll go. But just to investigate.” She straightened her glasses immediately and then sent an uncertain smile to Carla, who returned it with a full-fledged one of her own. For all of her quirks, as frustrating as they could be, she really did love Elle, and knew that her friend just had her best interest at heart.
“Great, let me give Joel a call and then we’ll head there tonight.”
“Tonight?” Elle asked, her eyes going wide. “Why not now?”
“Well, no one will be there now,” Carla said, but the truth was that she needed a little time before she had to face Joel again. As excited as she was by the prospect, she had to untangle her own mess of emotions first, especially after that scorching kiss. “And besides, we have to get ready.”
“Ready?” Elle said, this time her face going nearly green.
“Yeah, we can’t go out in these clothes,” Carla said with a small grin, happy that for all the times Elle had helped her, she now had a chance to return the favor. She knew her friend had a problem with going out, but it would be good for her, and besides, it would be fun to see her straight laced friend deal with some of the rowdier members of the Dirty Cruisers.
“Come on,” Carla said as she grabbed Elle’s hand and dragged her down the hall to her room, grateful that they were about the same size, “Let’s find you something to wear.”
*
Elle pulled her tiny Fiat into the clubhouse parking lot and Carla immediately jumped out of the passenger’s seat, excitement and, if she was honest, desire simmered through her. It took her a few steps to realize that Elle wasn’t following her and she jogged around to the other side of the car and opened the door.
“Elle, what are you doing? Let’s go,” Carla tried to cajole her out of the car but her friend shook her head before looking up at her with near desperation shining in her brown eyes.
“I don’t know if I can do this, Carla.”
“Hey, remember what you said? You’re worried about me right?” Carla asked, her voice soft, and Elle nodded emphatically, still not releasing the steering wheel, “Alright, and the only way to make sure I’m safe is to come inside and meet Joel. This is just for me, remember? It’s not about going to a party, it’s just about making sure your friend is safe.”
She watched her words work on Elle and her expression cleared, some of the trepidation melted from her eyes even if it still remained in the stiff way she climbed out of the car. Carla looked her over, appreciating her own handiwork, especially since most of her clothes were thrift store finds or leftovers from her early college days.
Carla herself was wearing the same burgundy dress that she’d worn last time, the backless one, because when she’d call Joel to check if it was okay to bring Elle by, he’d insisted that she wear it. She still remembered the husky tone in his voice when he’d said it.
But for Elle, she wanted to find something more understated, something that wouldn’t make her friend too uncomfortable, just enough to show off the amazing figure that Carla hadn’t even realized had been hiding under those shapeless skirts and baggy cardigans. It was a simple outfit. A solid black mini skirt layered over sheer tights that had a dark band that ran around each thigh and showed off her mile-long legs while the blouse, a pale grey thing with a bow that tied at the top, sat on top of a tank that showed her midriff. Of course, Elle hadn’t realized that the blouse was practically transparent and Carla hadn’t informed her. It was better that way. Altogether, the outfit was sexy and sophisticated, revealing and hiding at the same time.
They opened the door and Carla practically had to push her friend inside as the raucous noise hit them. Elle turned to her, her face once more pale behind the cat-eye glasses--the one thing she wouldn’t give up--but Carla just grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the bar. Honey’s eyes lit up as he spotted Carla, and then heated with an ill-concealed lust as they traced her friend’s body up and down. Luckily, Elle hadn’t noticed the look or she probably would have bolted for the door.
“Hi, Carla, the usual?” Honey asked, never once taking his eyes off of Elle.
“Yeah, that’s great. Have you seen Joel?” she asked, peering around the crowded bar, but it was as if Honey didn’t even hear her.
“And what about you, sweetness?” he drawled, his voice dropping with a near deadly charm and Elle’s cheeks flamed bright pink. But when she answered, her voice was cool and calm, like he hadn’t affected her at all and Honey’s eyebrows climbed at the obvious rebuke. Not that that would stop him.
“Just an iced tea for me, with lemon if you have it.”
“The only tea I have is the Long Island kind,” he said, leaning even closer to her, his eyes locked onto hers.
“Just a diet then.”
“A diet what?”
“A diet anything. You’re supposed to be the professional, here. Just figure it out,” Elle finally snapped, her blush growing brighter, but her eyes shooting pure challenge and Carla silently applauded. In the short time she’d known him, she’d seen girl after girl throw herself at Honey’s feet and she was proud of her friend, especially knowing how hard this was for her.
He was silent for so long, Carla wondered if she would have to repeat the order, but finally he went to fix their drinks, his dark gaze continually drawn back to the petite blond sitting next to her as if trying to solve a puzzle that he didn’t quite understand.
Carla continued to scan the crowd, still not seeing Joel’s familiar face, and she had to hide her disappointment as she turned back to her friend.
“I guess he’s not here yet,” Carla said with a shrug, but once again her words went unheard as Honey brought over their drinks, slid a whiskey neat in her general direction and placed some diet clear soda in front of Elle. She reached for it but he refused to let it go, brushing their fingers together intentionally as he pulled his other hand out from behind his back and dropped in a bright red cherry.
Elle looked from the fruit bobbing in her glass up to him, her eyes widening slightly as she tried to take the glass but he still wouldn’t let it go. Instead, he leaned even closer to her, and whispered something in her ear that Carla co
uldn’t hear but that had her whole face blushing now as bright as the fruit. Carla watched in stupefied amazement as Elle, her calm, overly cautious, always-follow-the-rules friend yanked the glass from the bartender, drew back, and tossed the entire drink in his face.
“Elle, what the–”
“I want to go, Carla. It was a mistake for me to even come here.” Her friend jumped to her feet, leaving Carla to stand much more slowly, still looking in confusion from the furious Elle to the drink-soaked Honey. Still, his eyes, narrowed now but no less heated, never left her friend as she stormed from the table. Carla rolled her eyes in frustration at the bartender.
“Thanks a lot, Honey. What did you say to her anyways?” Finally, he turned to look at her, his expression hard and unabashed.
“Just something that she needed to hear,” he said with a shrug, and Carla turned to go after her friend. Who knew what kind of trouble she could get into here on her own, but Honey’s voice stopped her before she could take more than a step.
