Biker for the Night (For The Night #6)

by C. J. Fallowfield

  ‘I bet Dale doesn’t even have a clue who you are, Eve. It’s not like he’s the type to read HELLO! or OK! magazine.’

  ‘I just can’t risk it, Tiff. They were so disappointed in my Uni grades, I couldn’t bear to see that look on their faces again. They do so much for me, you know they do. I owe it to them to respect their wishes.’

  ‘And what about your happiness? Money doesn’t make a nice guy, Eve. You’ve been out with some real shit bags, that your dad considered eligible bachelors. Surely being attracted to a guy, being able to laugh with him and wanting to rip those tight sexy leather trousers off that biteable bloody backside, is more important than a title or money?’

  ‘Well I think so, maybe you could try convincing them? All I get is, “Eve, we didn’t send you to finishing school for you to pick up any Tom, Dick or Harry off the street, darling.”’

  ‘Well it’s sexism, that’s what it is. Double standards. Do they care who your brother screws? No, and he’s been out with some real skanky slappers.’

  ‘I assume you’re not including yourself in that sweeping statement,’ I laughed. Tiff and Charles, my brother, had been screwing on and off for years. ‘Listen, I know you mean well, and I love you for it, but I seriously need to get ready. No way am I jeopardising the opportunity to have wild hot sex with a biker, an opportunity that Dale and I will never get to experience in real life. One picture in the paper of the two of us, it would finish Dad off and I don’t think Mum could live with “the shame” of it.’

  ‘I say screw them, you’re an adult now. What’s the worst they can do? Cut off your trust fund? You’re modelling now, you’re earning decent money on your own, sure that extra few million would come in handy, but it’s not like you need it. I just want you to be happy and you’re not happy, Eve.’

  ‘I know,’ I sighed. ‘Let’s go out for lunch Monday, before I fly back to New York, and we can talk then. I can fill you in on my amazing evening and then we can debate my dilemma, ok?’

  ‘Let’s hope this Logan is as good as Felicia made him out to be.’

  ‘I seriously hope so and his discretion had better be top notch as well. If it ever came out that The Earl of Beaumond’s daughter paid for sex, I won’t just be disinherited, I’ll be disavowed,’ I sighed as Tiff laughed.

  ‘Go, get ready, but I can’t believe Dale put himself out there and sent you a text asking for a date and you’ve ignored him. Enjoy your night, text me when you’re up tomorrow to arrange a meet, assuming you can still walk of course.’

  ‘Bye, Tiffany,’ I laughed, as I hung up before she stalled me any longer. I got up from my sofa, making my way across my lounge, through my bedroom and into my master bathroom. I had four interconnecting rooms in one wing of my parents’ house, far enough away to have some of my own privacy. When I use the word “house,” that’s a mild understatement. Think Downton Abbey meets the 21st Century. My father, Rupert Augustine Myers, is indeed an Earl, a title that had been handed down through the generations and our ancestors could be traced back to the times of Henry VI, we had royal blood flowing through our veins. Granted, there would have to be some freak accident to wipe out masses of the Royal family before one of us was next in line for the throne, but we were in line, just towards the back of it. The manor we lived in, in Buckinghamshire, dated back to The War of the Roses era as well, complete with a moat and fancy gardens with a maze. We had servants and my parents dined at opposite ends of a table that stretched on so far, they had to shout to each other, with Charles and I often acting as go-betweens when the echo didn’t reverberate far enough.

  Much as I loved them, much as I appreciated the trappings the family title and money had to offer, I felt stifled. I wore the façade of a well-mannered polite and graceful young lady, but in reality that was my prison. Inside, screaming to get out, was a potty mouthed, smoking, pint drinking tomboy, who longed to get pierced, inked and smoke weed with her biker gangster boyfriend. Extreme yes, but that was the point of fantasies, to be everything life wasn’t. I could leave the smoking, my mouth wasn’t all that foul and after some careful consideration, I decided that I’d have to decant part of the pint into a more ladylike half pint glass, but I really would love to have a tongue and clit hood piercing and get a tattoo. The ink was out of the question, regardless of my heritage, it was still frowned upon by the modelling agency I was signed to, but the piercings and the biker boyfriend, that was part of the fantasy that I longed for. I went to run myself a bath and filled it with an expensive fragrant oil.

  I lay back and closed my eyes as I pictured Dale’s face. He so wasn’t my usual type, then again I’d never been allowed to choose my own boyfriend, they’d been introduced to me and were usually clean cut, spoke with plums in their mouths and were so immaculately groomed I wondered sometimes if I were the female in the relationship. Dale had dirty blond hair and the glossiest chocolate brown eyes that just did things to me, things far dirtier than his hair. We’d met about four months ago, in a hip new club in London. I was there with my modelling friends and he was best friends with the bass guitarist of Nevada 6, the biggest boy band to explode on the scene in recent years. He’d eyed me up for most of the night, making me blush in a way I hadn’t since I was a teenager with a crush. He’d finally snuck up behind me on the dance floor, laying his hands on my hips as we moved. It was hot, heady, sweaty and sexy, possibly the most erotic experience of my life. I could still recall the way his body felt pressed in behind mine, that erection denting my flesh, the smell of his aftershave and the faint aroma of oil from his bike. He had the bad boy look down pat. Black denim jeans, a grey t-shirt and battered old brown biker jacket and when he finally spun me around and I got to look at his face up close and in detail, he’d smirked as he saw my reaction. He was every inch the perfect guy to turn me on. I could see the edge of a tattoo creeping up his neck, which just made his raw appeal even more appetising.

  We’d ended up having a few beers and chatting, the chemistry between us was palpable. Conversation flowed with ease and I loved that he had a cheeky sense of humour, far less stiff and boring than the guys my father always picked for me. We’d ended up snogging on the dance floor, a real melt my knickers, flame my pussy kiss that rocked me to my core. I’d ended up with stubble rash all over my face the next day, which the makeup team had a job to conceal for a photo shoot on the Monday. We exchanged numbers, but as we kissed goodbye, I knew in my heart that I wouldn’t agree to date him. I wasn’t brave enough. My parents would seriously freak if I took someone like Dale home. The only reason he got that close to me, was that I’d managed to climb out of the back window of the ladies toilets in a cocktail bar and make it to the club to have a few hours before Kane, my bodyguard, finally tracked me down and hauled me away from Dale. From the best night of my life. I’d screamed and rung my best friend Tiffany the minute I got a message from Dale, asking me out on a date. The excitement was soon squashed by the thought of the look of disappointment on my mother’s face. I’d replied to say I was busy and out of the country on some assignments for a while, that I’d contact him when I returned. I think he knew it was a brush off, but he was persistent and kept contacting me, reminding me to text him when I was home, as he was “desperate” to take me out. If only he knew how desperate I was to say yes.

  I sighed as I got out of the bath. It had been a few months since I last had sex, with one of my father’s selected “breeders,” whose idea of great sex was to go at it like a jack hammer for five minutes and then come, with no consideration for my enjoyment at all. That had been the last time I’d gone on a date with him. Ever since Dale I just couldn’t bring myself to see anyone, with the exception of Logan tonight of course. That was different. He came highly recommended and given that he could plan out a whole “Biker” fantasy for me, maybe a night of passion with him would take my mind off this totally inappropriate crush on Dale. That was the plan anyway.

  I headed into my bedroom, with a small towel around me, to find that
Maria had put a box on my bed. A large white box secured with a black ribbon. Logan had said not to worry about an outfit, that he’d supply one, and I couldn’t wait to see what was inside. I untied the soft ribbon, carefully lifting the lid and grinned. I had a pair of seriously high black leather ankle boots with silver spikes up the slender heel. There was a black rubber bra, with zips over the nipples, a pair of skin tight, pillar-box red rubber trousers, with a zip over the crotch and then a black leather jacket. Nowhere in the box were any knickers, of any kind. It seemed Logan wanted easy access, which for someone as sex starved and desperate as me, certainly wasn’t a problem. I followed the instructions and made sure that I had a good coating of baby powder, before I eased the seriously tight outfit on. It was a good job I was in great shape, these trousers left nothing, and I mean nothing, to the imagination. I did a spin in front of the mirror and nodded my approval at how sexy my backside looked with its latex coating. I’d have to try some of this fetish gear more often.

  I smoked out my eyes and went for a messed up look with my long jet black hair. I’d been instructed not to take a bag, that I wouldn’t require cash and was prohibited from taking a mobile phone. Logan’s driver would pick me up at eight p.m. and take me to him, wherever that may be. I seriously hoped his driver was good enough to shake my bodyguard, Kane. I’d suggested that I was picked up from the servants’ entrance at the rear, in a bid to try and escape unseen. There were a number of secret passages hidden throughout the house, but somehow Kane had managed to find all but one, which seriously restricted my options for sneaking out. I looked at my mobile and bit my lip. I assumed that Logan could be trusted, but I wasn’t totally stupid. Going out without Kane was bad enough, but to not take my mobile too? I slipped it into the interior of my leather jacket before zipping myself up, covered up with a dressing gown, then sat on the edge of the bed and checked my watch. Sure enough, dead on ten to eight there was a knock on my door. Until I advised him that I was going to bed, Kane knocked on my door ten minutes before the hour, every hour, to make sure that I was ok.

  ‘Thanks Kane, everything’s fine,’ I called, as I stood on the other side of the door.

  ‘You know that’s not how this works, Lady Myers. Please open the door, so that I can see for myself,’ he responded.

  ‘Is it really necessary? I already told you that I’m fine. You know that no one other than Maria has been in.’

  ‘I’m just doing my job. Please open the door.’

  ‘Fine,’ I sighed. I flung it open and gestured for him to come in. He was a beast of a man, there was no mistaking that I was being followed whenever I went out with him. What he’d not been blessed for in looks, he made up for with brawn. He ran his eyes up and down me and raised an eyebrow before skirting around the room, checking under furniture and behind the curtains. I waited until he’d done a sweep of all of the rooms before he returned to where I was waiting, still patiently holding the bedroom door open. ‘You know, I could have been kidnapped right here while you were busy checking the dressing room?’

  ‘That’s why we have cameras in the public hallways and another team watching your every move on them. Where are you going tonight?’

  ‘Nowhere.’

  ‘Please, I wasn’t born yesterday. You’ve done your hair and makeup, you have heels on under that dressing gown and a delivery was made for you by a man in a Merc, a man who’s still waiting in the car at the back entrance for you.’

  ‘I’m just going out with the girls, it’s really not necessary for you to come. I’m perfectly safe.’

  ‘That’s my call to make, not yours. I’ll be waiting out here for you and I’ll accompany you down and follow the driver.’

  ‘Fine, whatever,’ I sighed as he stepped outside. I gave him a fake smile then shut and locked the door. He was only doing his job, but it was seriously infuriating and restrictive. I dropped the dressing gown and headed over to my bedroom window, opened it and eased my legs over the frame to sit on the stone sill, my feet firmly planted on the decorative stone border that overhung the floor below. Charles and I did this all the time as children, working our way from one room to another on this ledge, but that was either barefoot or in trainers. Never in five inch heels. I took a deep breath, spun around, eased myself upright and started to edge my way along the exterior wall towards the open window of one of the guest rooms, next to mine, making sure not to look down at the perilous drop below me. One slip and I’d probably end up with a broken neck or back, if I was lucky enough to survive. I made it to the guest room, which was in darkness and slid headfirst through the gap, wriggled my way in, carefully stood up and made my way in the dark to the bookcase on the far wall. A click of a switch under the middle shelf had it swing open and I turned on the light to the narrow stairway that headed all the way down to the servants quarters, following it down as quietly as I could, with my heels making clip cloppity noises on the old stone steps. I gently eased the door open, it was set into the old wooden panelling on the other side and virtually undetectable. It had taken Charles and I years to find it. As I stepped out I cursed. Kane was leaning on the wall opposite with his arms folded and a smirk on his face.

  ‘I told you I wasn’t born yesterday. You really thought you could lose me?’

  ‘How the hell did you know I’d be here?’ I demanded.

  ‘We fitted cameras on the exterior of the building in Summer. I was alerted that you’d risked your neck by sneaking along the ledge and I discovered this passageway last year. It wasn’t hard to figure out where you were going.’

  ‘You drive me insane,’ I groaned. ‘Fine, follow me, ruin my night as usual. No one dares approach me with you attached to my damn hip.’

  ‘It didn’t seem to put that biker off earlier in the year,’ he observed, as he followed me down the corridor. ‘He had balls, continuing to kiss you when I warned him to back off.’

  ‘Like I’d know if anyone had balls, you don’t let go of the leash with anyone other than men on a pre-approved list from my father.’

  ‘He pays my wages. Are you going to tell me where we’re going? Or do you wish to continue to make my life difficult?’

  ‘The Anaya Club in Mayfair. Happy now?’

  ‘I’ll be happy when I get you back home in one piece. And preferably in an outfit more befitting of a Lady. Your mother would have a heart attack if she saw you now.’

  I stuck out my tongue and rolled my eyes at him.

  I felt really bad to have shaken Kane off, I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins from the high speed chase, dodging up alleys, down side roads and even the wrong way up a one way street. I’d never felt so alive. When my driver, David, assured me that we’d lost Kane, I sent him a quick text to tell him that I was fine and that I was sorry to have duped him. I told him to pretend that he was with me, if anyone asked, and that I’d never let my parents know that he’d lost me. Father would fire him on the spot and he may piss me off sometimes, but he didn’t deserve that. I gave him the location of a café in Chelsea to meet me at nine a.m. so that he could take me home, as if he’d been with me all night. I made sure I had a read request receipt before I turned my phone off, he had a sneaky habit of tracing the GPS when it was on. It had taken me a while to figure out how he kept finding me.

  ‘I hope you’re not too shaken, Lady Myers?’ came David’s voice.

  ‘I’m fine, it was quite exciting actually. That was some driving.’

  ‘Thank you. We’ll be at your location shortly.’

  ‘Have you met Mr. Steele?’ I enquired, beyond curious. Other than the seriously hot picture that had come with the response to my enquiry, I’d not been able to dig up anything on him. Though I had a feeling that I recognised him from somewhere and it was bugging me why I couldn’t place him.

  ‘No. I’m just doing a favour for my friend, who’s Mr. Steele’s regular driver. My instructions are to collect you at nine-thirty tomorrow. Logan has my number in case you want me to call for you bef
ore.’

  ‘Actually would you mind collecting me earlier? I promised my bodyguard I’d hook up with him at nine in Chelsea, so he can accompany me home. I don’t want to get him into trouble.’

  ‘How did you let him know?’ came the fast response.

  ‘I texted him, then turned off my phone so he couldn’t trace it.’

  ‘My understanding was that you’re not supposed to have a phone on you at all. It’s one of Mr. Steele’s rules.’

  ‘It’s not as if someone in my position can simply vanish into thin air without causing a panic. I had to bring it, to let him know I was safe,’ I protested.

  ‘On your head be it,’ he replied, as we crossed the river and headed towards the East End.

  The Workshop

  Eve

  I was dropped in a cobbled street, lined with brick archways, housing various businesses under the railway lines that ran above. “Ray’s Auto Repairs” took up three of the arches and I headed to the one on the far left, as instructed and tried the small steel door set into the larger steel arched ones. I pulled it behind me and drew the bolt across, locking myself in. My heart was beating wildly in my chest. I’d never even had a one night stand with a guy I’d spent the night cosying up to and getting fresh with, let alone had sex with a complete stranger for cash. I heard some metal clanging and walked into the brightly lit workshop.

  ‘Hello? Is anyone here?’ I called, as I wiped my damp palms on my tight rubber trousers. I jumped as feet suddenly appeared from under a car, on some kind of skateboard and took a deep breath as more of the person was unveiled. He was wearing loose black army boots with a pair of distressed and ripped jeans, covered in splatters of grease and his legs broadened out to show off a pair of firm muscular thighs which narrowed to some slim hips. A very obvious bulge to his left leg made me gulp, if this was Logan he was packing and I didn’t even think he was stiff at this stage. He had on a black belt with a silver skull buckle and a white t-shirt, which had risen up and showed off a seriously toned stomach, abs protruding in perfect symmetry, that sharp dip over his hip bones which contained some deliciously sexy black ink. I didn’t have time to read it as his broad chest and shoulders came into view, one firm pec visible through the rip in his oil stained top, and I nearly groaned as I saw his lightly tanned arms were covered in more ink, all the way up to where the edge of his t-shirt strained around his large toned biceps. I could just imagine him being Dale, their bodies were so similar and I felt my pussy clench, as I tried not to dampen my knickers before anything had even happened, then chuckled internally as I remembered that I wasn’t even wearing any.