by Nicole Fox
“Honestly? I forgot. I was trying to settle books that day. I had more on my mind than making sure I didn’t get caught redhanded with panties for pussy I didn’t even take, you know. And then we made plans and it didn’t seem all that relevant. The day was going well. And then you found them.” I frown. “I’m not even mad that you assumed that I’d fucked some other girl; I get it. It’s not like I’m an innocent little altar boy, but you didn’t even let me explain things to you. You didn’t give me that chance.”
“I thought …” She breathes in. I give her the time that she needs before she continues. “I thought that you had just. Used me. I mean, there was only the stipulation about me not having sex with someone else, but I thought after a while that there was something more going on. And then thinking that you had screwed someone else, and that you thought it was funny that I had found out or something. I just.” She shakes her head. “I actually like you, Booster. I hadn’t expected to. I just thought that I would be doing this—honestly—insane thing with you, but I figured the only thing that would tie us together would be this child.”
Her hand falls to her stomach. My eyes glance down, and for the first time, I really realize that my child is in there. It makes my heart swell in ways that I didn’t think I was capable of.
“And now?”
“Now, I want there to be more than just this child. And I was afraid that I had lost out on that because I thought that this didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me.”
That nearly breaks my heart, but I don’t let her know it. I can’t because I know that there’s a damn good reason for Lena to feel this way—and at least now, Lena’s listening to me.
I stand up, make my way over to her. I take her face in my hands and tilt it upward, pressing my lips to Lena’s.
“I want this,” I tell her. “I want you. I want this baby. I want everything that comes with it.” I deepen the kiss, taking her mouth with my own so that there’s no question about it—this is the truth that I’m telling her. My tongue explores her mouth and I exhale a relieved sigh when she lets me in, opening her mouth to me and letting me kiss her.
This is what I’ve needed. Her coming back to me like this.
I don’t think about the fact that we’re technically in her place of work. I could get her into serious trouble if someone came looking … but I’ve locked the door and if someone wants in, they’ll have to break this damn door down. At that point, whatever they see is their own damn fault.
I lift Lena up, getting her up in my arms. There’s no hesitation when I cart her over to the desk in the room. I don’t think this is Lena’s classroom, and that makes the situation all the more thrilling. I’m about to set her down on a stranger’s desk and fuck her for everything she’s worth on it, too, in celebration of what she’s just told me.
I kiss her all the way there. Draping myself over her, I put myself in her line of vision, encompassing her. Pressing between her legs I rock against her, letting her feel the hardness of my cock. The warmth between her thighs radiates against me, and I lose it.
I growl, taking her mouth with mine. Her hands fly to my hair in surprise, tugging but not pulling me away. She keeps me pressed close to her and I revel in the actions, impatiently pushing her skirt up. I don’t have the care to handle her nicely. As soon as her skirt is up high enough, I rip her pantyhose. The sound of the nylon tearing beneath my fingers has me groaning, and Lena’s needy little buck of hips further encourages me.
My fingers press past her panties, crooking inside her. Her pussy wraps around me like a glove. It’s as though the strife we’ve gone thought doesn’t matter. The air is cleared; we’re getting what we want. And fuck if I don’t want Lena like the drug she’s become to me.
In and out, I plunge my fingers in her. Her cries of ecstasy aren’t held back in the classroom, and I go at her harder just to hear her whine for me more. The slip and slide of my fingers, the clench of her pussy … it’s all enough to drive me wild.
“Booster—fuck me,” she begs as she writhes her body all over the desk. “Please, god, I need it.”
That sends me over the edge. I pull my fingers out of her, shove her panties to the side, stretching and ripping them a little, too. I make quick work of my pants; my mind is singularly focused on Lena, getting inside her, fucking her until she’s claimed as mine again and again.
Hands on either side of her head once my cock is free, I press against her dripping entrance and push into her in one fluid, hard thrust. She’s so hot and wet. I let out a curse as she clenches tight around me and immediately wraps her legs around my middle.
“You feel so fucking good … all mine … Fuck, Lena—”
I don’t finish my thought, groaning out instead as I almost let slip something weighty. Not yet … not yet … but soon, I’ll tell her.
Now, though, I lay into Lena. The woman that’s carrying my child and who’s gone and driven me more than wild over the short course of the last couple of months. I’m the man that always said he wouldn’t settle down, yet here I am baby-making and honestly wanting to with the woman under me.
I think it’s that thought that makes me fuck her so earnestly. I roll my hips so I hit deep inside her, leaving my mark within her so there’s never another man that can possibly make her feel like this. With the way she claws my back during, calls out my name, moves her hips against me and reciprocates my actions, I doubt that she’s going to let another man touch her like this again.
Chapter Nineteen
Lena
I don’t know what has me letting Booster do this to me here.
Actually … I do. But that’s beside the point.
I let him take me on the desk. I don’t pay attention to whose classroom it is that I led us into, and I don’t really think it matters, either way. I’m enjoying this far too much to care, and the more this pleasure builds, the more I realize that I shouldn’t have run from it in the first place.
We cum together. It’s … intense, and blinding, and has me arching off the desk and clinging to Booster more than a little needy and wanting. It feels so good to be back here, having him in my arms and letting him have me like this. Especially now that the air has cleared between the two of us.
Panting, I lean up and kiss him. It’s deep—dare I say loving? The way that our lips caress each other. I want to stay here longer, go again, maybe even just lid here and enjoy each other’s company. There’s so much to talk about now—all the plans that I’ve made for the nursery, the help that I’ve been getting from my mother.
Booster looks like he’s going to say something. His mouth opens, but there’s a crack that comes from outside, like the sound of an engine backfiring. The two of us look at each other, and then towards the (thankfully) closed windows. Booster’s brow furrow and I realize that the sound, as it starts to rumble louder, is the sound of motorcycles thundering near.
Something nervous settles into the pit of my stomach as Booster pulls out and away from me. He situates himself back into his pants as he makes his way toward the window, peeking outside.
“What in the fuck?”
“What’s wrong?”
Booster doesn’t answer me, and the sound gets louder, followed by whooping and yelling. The nervous pit in my stomach starts to churn.
I don’t think that’s a good sign for anything.
I stand up, getting myself as put together as possible with my hair messed up and my panties and stockings messed up, too. I figure that I can dip out if I need to—tell Principal Walters that something came up, or that I had some sort of … business. If I haven’t been searched for yet, I doubt that it’s really at the top of anyone’s priority list.
The sound of a car alarm going off sounds off before I get to the window. Glass breaking follows and when I look outside, I see why.
There are a ton of men on bikes riding through the parking lot, going around in circles. Some of them have bats and two-by-fours; others are slinging around chains. The com
mon theme is that they’re destroying everything in their path, and they’re wearing very recognizable leather jackets.
They’re all members of the Wylde Ones.
I look to Booster, horrified.
“You have to stop them!”
Booster says nothing, tearing himself from the window and bolting from the classroom. I’m quick on his heels, going into teacher mode.
I have to think about the kids.
As soon as we leave the classroom, I know that something worse is wrong. There’s yelling coming from the gym, and I pick up my pace, bolting past Booster. I push into the gym, and the sight that’s before me makes me stop, mouth wide open.
There are a ton of Wylde Ones in the gym, popping balloons, spray painting the gym halls. The kids are horrified, some running away and others actively trying to get the bikers to stop along with the teachers.
I go into action.
Immediately, I start ushering kids out of the gym, sending them in the direction of the school and not outside where there are certain more Wylde Ones looking to pick fights or whatever the fuck it is they all think they’re doing.
Why are they here? I can’t help but wonder. And why was Booster so caught off guard by their arrival?
The only comfort that can be had in this is that I can assume Booster didn’t know what they hell they were going to do. It’s only a small comfort, because he’s supposed to be in charge of them, and they’re obviously just doing what they want to do in this situation.
I lose Booster in the commotion. I have no idea where he is, only that there’s a lot of yelling from … quite literally everywhere. One of the Wylde Ones bumps into me, nearly knocking me down as I’m getting kids out of the gym. More of them begin to pour in from the outside, and the stray thought of finding Booster leaves me when I have a realization.
This could get violent. Quick. And I have a baby that I’m carrying. The first few weeks are so precarious …
I want to find Booster, but I know that if I stay here, I’m risking myself and our child. I’ll find him … eventually.
Making sure that there are no more kids in the gym, I bolt.
I hope Booster’s okay.
Booster
Lena bolts as soon as she realizes that there are a fuck ton of bikers in the gym harassing the students. I don’t blame her, but I wish that she had stayed close to me. The Wylde Ones are a rowdy bunch when they’re like this, in an unmonitored, uncontrolled crowd, and it’s at the forefront of my mind that she’s out there somewhere in the crowd with a bunch of my guys that aren’t paying attention to who they’re running into or who they’re fucking over.
The thought makes me livid.
“Hey, assholes, what the fuck are you doing? Chill the hell out!”
A couple people turn my way—but I’m ignored. I realize that I don’t look like myself, and I growl.
There’s more noise coming from outside. I’m not doing much in here, and there are already a decent sect of teachers getting kids out and handling the situation. Maybe I can get a handle on whatever the fuck is going on outside.
I attempt to gain control again, but it’s obvious that coming outside was a worse idea than staying inside. I’m not easily recognized in the darkness with how I’m dressed. I do much the same as I did inside, only to be met with a bunch of fucking laughing.
Eventually, though, I spot the culprit of this little interruption.
“Whooooo! Let’s show ’em, boys!”
Happy’s riding around the parking lot on his bike, with Pixie on the back. He’s got a bat in his hand like some of the other boys, and he’s swinging it wherever he pleases, knocking mirrors off of cars, and nearly hitting people that are running through the lot trying to get away or those that are trying to stop the insanity.
He’s the fucking ringleader.
I watch as he takes his bat to a few more cars, and see how closely he comes to hitting one of the fleeing high schoolers in the head with it. The narrow escape makes Happy whoop out in laughter, and it pulls out more from the boys—they honestly think that this shit is funny.
Blinding rage shoots through me. I was already pissed off by the fact that my boys were here without my permission, causing this kind of chaos without my say. But seeing that Happy is the person that’s in charge of making it happen? I’m ready to kill the bastard, and I’m tempted to yank him right off the back of his bike.
“Hap—”
His name is almost out of my mouth as I start walking towards him—until someone flies by on a bike. I see them from the corner of my eye, avoid getting hit by side-stepping them, and think that I’m in the clear.
I’m not.
Something hard hits my head, and shattering glass echoes in my ears. Starbursts flicker out in my eyes, and I feel the impending blackout as it creeps steadily into my head.
No … no …
Before I go down, I look in Happy’s direction. I swear there’s a smirk on his face when I do.
Chapter Twenty
Booster
My head feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton balls and sloshing with liquid. It’s not a very nice combination, but it’s the combination that I’m dealing with right now.
There’s … a vague recollection of what happened. I remember being at the school with Lena. I remember her telling us about our baby. I remember fucking her—and I remember what should have been a perfect night turning into a disaster.
The exact details are fuzzy after that, though. I do know that whatever happened, I’m fucking livid when it comes to Happy.
Something tells me this entire fucking fiasco was his fault.
I can’t open my eyes yet. They feel too heavy on my face and even trying to blink isn’t happening. I know … I think … that I’m not at the school anymore. In fact, I’m pretty sure that I’m in a bed. I feel warm, and there’s something comfortable and plush that’s cushioning my body.
I think I have a concussion—at least that’s what I assume. It feels like one, and I’ve had enough of those in my life that I know what they feel like. It serves to piss me off, and give me more of an unneeded, throbbing headache when I realize that I have one.
Before I can get too pissed off, though, I manage to register that there’s someone in the room with me. I feel something warm and wet slide over my forehead, and I jot a little. Something like a familiar voice speaks to me.
“Lie back. You’re not in any kind of shape to be getting up right now.”
What the fuck.
I blink again, a little more diligently when I feel the press of a hand against my chest, and I grab it before the person can pull away. I register a struggle. Whoever is in my vicinity, whoever is taking care of me, tries to pull away but is not able to, and I’m not going to let them go. I might have a wicked concussion of epic proportions, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to be fucking passive in this.
Slowly, I get to the point where I’m able to open my eyes. I thought that the voice that had spoken to me was familiar; it’s Pixie. She’s hovering over me, her eyes wide as she looks down on me. There’s a wet cloth in her free hand.
Frowning, I look around. I’m in a room at the clubhouse. What catches my eyes is the bottle of pills on the nightstand near me, and another flash of last night’s anger rears its ugly head up on me.
I toss Pixie’s hand away from me and sit up, ignoring the fact that I’ve got a throbbing headache and a serious case of disorientation.
“Booster—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I say, not bothering with any kind of politeness or manners. “Where the fuck is Happy?”
Pixie pales. I send her a glare, and she squeaks,
“He’s downstairs with everyone else.”
Against better judgement, I stand up. That makes my head feel worse, and I groan. Pixie once again tries to get me to lie down, but I refuse.
“I’m going to fucking kill him.”
I’m pretty certain of this. Very gung-ho. Whether or not
that’s actually going to happen, however, is another thing entirely, but at the moment I’m very much all for getting my hands around that bastard’s neck.
I hobble downstairs, with Pixie not far behind me. It feels weird to be on my feet, like they’re made of jelly or something else not quite stable enough to be walking on.
Downstairs, the boys are loud, causing a raucous. You would think they would have had enough fun already trashing the high school, but no. It only dies down a little when they notice that I’m in the room, and there’s a distinct halt in the chatter that’s going on.
I look around. They all give me apprehensive looks—like they’re children that know they’re about to be scolded. Good.
