Biker's Virgin (An MC Romance)

by Claire Adams

  I nodded, as I turned on my computer and turned on the live feed. “This would have happened in the last two days?”

  “Yes,” Molly nodded. “I’m going to let Alani in; hold on.”

  A few moments later, Alani entered the room looking sad and extremely nervous. I gave her a reassuring smile. “Why don’t you sit down, Alani?”

  She returned my smile tentatively and sat down opposite me. I kept filtering through the feed, rewinding and stopping as I went while Molly explained what we were trying to do.

  “There’s another surveillance system in place?” Alani asked in surprise.

  “It was put in place to check the staff,” Ben explained. “Oftentimes staff can bypass the cameras if they’re familiar enough with the positions. Tristan decided that it would come in handy one day.”

  “And, I think it just did,” I said as I paused on a blurry image of a man right outside Alani’s door. “Alani, can you come here and ID this man for me, please?”

  Alani walked around to stand behind my shoulder, and Molly did the same. As Alani’s eyes hit the screen, they went wide with shock.

  “What is it?” Molly asked, noticing her reaction.

  “I… It’s… That’s Simon,” Alani said.

  “Simon?” Ben said, walking around to look at the screen.

  “One of the waiters?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Molly nodded. “He works between the Lagoon and Mosaic.”

  “He planted the necklace in my room?” Alani said. “But…”

  “He was obviously bribed,” Ben said. “Someone paid him to do it.”

  “And, we all know exactly who that someone is,” I said, standing up. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?” Ben asked.

  “To the Beaumonts’ suite,” I said. “Ben, have someone bring Simon up to their suite, as well. We’re going to handle this head on.”

  Molly seemed to know exactly what I was thinking and gave me an encouraging smile. I noticed Alani, still staring at the screen.

  “Alani,” I said.

  “Yes, Mr. Dubois?”

  “You’re a loyal employee,” I said. “And, you’ve been doing great work at the resort. I want you to know that as long as I’m in charge, I will always protect my employees.”

  She looked at me with obvious relief. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Please,” I said. “Call me Tristan.”

  I walked out with Molly, and I could see the admiration and pride on her face. She was looking at me as though I were her hero, and for some reason that made me oddly uncomfortable. When we got to the Beaumonts’ suite, I knocked hard, and a moment later the door swung open.

  Mrs. Beaumont was a skinny woman with white blonde hair and a forehead that didn’t move. She was wearing an all-white ensemble, and her lips were painted a shocking red. Her eyes widened when she saw me.

  “Mr. Dubois,” she said. “I didn’t expect to find you at my door.”

  “Is your husband here, Mrs. Beaumont?” I asked.

  “He is,” she nodded. “Have you come about the matter with the maid who stole my choker?”

  “Uh…she’s not a maid,” I corrected. “She’s a manager at the resort. And yes, I have come to discuss that matter. This is Molly; she’s head of human resources here.”

  Mrs. Beaumont gave Molly a curt nod and held the door open for both of us to pass through. Mr. Beaumont was lying on the couch, stuffing his face with a bag of chips from the mini bar. I tried to control my expression of disgust as I faced him.

  “Mr. Beaumont,” I said as he straightened up. “I’ve come about the matter with the choker.”

  “Have you found it?” he asked.

  “We have,” I nodded.

  “It was in the little Hawaiian tart’s room, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Beaumont asked.

  I was surprised at the venom in her tone, and immediately, alarm bells went off. “It was in her room,” I nodded. “Yes.”

  Mrs. Beaumont looked a little too pleased for my liking. “If you fire her immediately, I will refrain from going to the police.”

  I smiled pleasantly at her. “I was going to make a different suggestion. If you leave my resort immediately, I will refrain from going to the police.”

  “Excuse me?” Mrs. Beaumont’s face changed instantly.

  “The choker was found in Ms. Kama’s room,” Molly interjected. “But we know that someone planted it there.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Mrs. Beaumont said immediately.

  “You’ll find that it’s not,” I said, just as we heard another knock on the door.

  Molly went to answer it, and a few seconds later, Ben walked in with Simon in tow. Simon was looking exceptionally guilty, and the truth was plastered across his face. When I glanced at Mrs. Beaumont, I saw that despite her calm exterior, she had turned pale.

  “Simon,” I said, stepping forward. “We have footage of you sneaking into Alani’s room yesterday. You planted a diamond choker in her drawer in order to frame her.”

  “I… No… Sir…”

  “I will have to inform the police about this,” I told him. “But this will all go a lot easier for you if you confess the truth. Now.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “We have you on camera, Simon,” Molly said, stepping forward. “We have all the proof we need. What we don’t have is a motive. Why would you take the whole blame for someone else? Please, tell me what happened.”

  Simon looked at her for a second and then his panic won out. “My mother is sick,” he said desperately. “She needs an operation, and I needed the money… Mrs. Beaumont offered me a thousand dollars if I did what she asked.”

  “Mrs. Beaumont,” I said, turning to the pale-faced woman.

  “You fucking idiot,” Mrs. Beaumont looked livid. “Shut your damn mouth.”

  Simon was sobbing quietly, and Mr. Beaumont was looking at his wife as though she had just grown a second head. “I had nothing to do with this.”

  “Don’t even bother,” I said bitingly, and then I turned back to Mrs. Beaumont. “I don’t understand; why did you want to frame Alani?”

  “The whore was fucking my husband—”

  “She was doing no such thing,” Molly said, cutting in. “She was trying desperately to avoid your husband’s inappropriate advances. She should press charges and have him convicted of sexual assault.”

  “What proof does she have?” Mr. Beaumont demanded.

  “We have footage of you offering Alani that choker,” Molly informed him. “The same choker that your wife planted in her room to frame her.”

  “I should go to the police,” I said. “Both of you deserve to go to jail. But I suppose it’s enough to know that you deserve each other. I want you out of my resort in the next hour.”

  “I want my choker back,” Mrs. Beaumont called out.

  Ben produced the choker from his jacket pocket. “You can have it back,” he said, handing it over. “It’s not even worth a thousand dollars, let alone a million.”

  “Ben,” I said. “You can supervise their departure. Simon, follow me.”

  He followed Molly and me out the door. We went back to my office, and just as we were about to enter, Molly stopped me.

  “Tristan,” she said, whispering so that Simon wouldn’t be able to hear. “What are you going to do with him?”

  “I’m going to check his story first,” I said. “I’m going to make sure his sick mother is real… If she’s just a fabrication to justify his part in all this, then I’m going to fire him immediately.”

  “And if it turns out to be true?”

  “Then I’m going to suspend him for a few weeks without pay,” I said. “And…pay for his mother’s operation.”

  I saw it again—that awed, proud look in Molly’s eyes. It was like I was really her hero. And while a part of me was thrilled to have earned her love and respect, another part of me was worried. What if things didn’t work out between us? Would she still want to work with me? W
ould she still look at me like I was her hero?

  Or would she start seeing me differently, would she start seeing me, as I really was: a mortal man who was nobody’s hero?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Molly

  I sat up in bed slowly, savoring the lazy feel of our rare sleepy Sunday morning. Since the incident with Alani and the Beaumonts, Tristan and I had worked for three weekends straight without taking a day off. We had finally managed to find a free day and happily, they had coincided.

  Sometimes, I did miss not being able to spend quality time with Tristan. Sometimes, it felt like our moments together were fleeting. They were tiny little stopgaps along the way, and sometimes, it didn’t feel like enough. There were days when we came together only for sex. Tristan would tumble into my suite for half an hour during dinner. We would start talking, but inevitably, at some point during the conversation, he would pull me towards him and start kissing me.

  It was impossible for me to resist when he kissed me. His kisses were full and open and heated with desire. Sometimes it felt like a kiss from Tristan could never just end there. It always led to ripped clothes and naked bodies and undulated moaning. Most of the time I didn’t mind; the sex was the only bond we could make within the time we had. It was the simplest, easiest, and most direct way of expressing how we felt.

  And it changed all the time. Some days the sex was short, heated, and passionate. Sometimes it was more desperate, even bordering on violent. Then other times it was slow, gentle, and caring. I love the fact that Tristan made love to me in different ways. It meant that each time was new and interesting. I discovered new things about his body and mine. I realized what I was capable of; I realized what I liked and what I wanted done to me. Suddenly, I found that I had transformed from a virgin into a sexual being whose appetite just kept growing and growing.

  There were little moments in between, however, when it bothered me. I knew that sex wasn’t our only connection. It was just that we didn’t have time for anything else.

  That was truer for Tristan than for me. I wasn’t nearly as busy as he was. After all, he had an empire to run. Some days, I saw Ben and Alani far more than I saw Tristan. I knew what I was getting into, I told myself often. Mentally I was prepared, but emotionally, certain unwanted feelings cropped up without my permission.

  But those feelings were easy to forget anytime Tristan did manage to find time for our relationship. That was how I knew I loved him, because even an uninterrupted hour with him was a gift. I rolled out of bed and walked over to the windows. Only one of the blinds was drawn up so that I could see the ocean. It was a perfect, calm day, and I wondered when we would next visit Tristan’s private island.

  I walked into the living room and stepped outside onto the private balcony. The ocean looked like it was bowing at my feet. The water called to me invitingly, and I wondered if I had time to run around to the sea for a quick swim. I hated waking Tristan up when he didn’t need to be woken. I felt as though sleep was his one luxury when he had a day off.

  I was still admiring the ocean when I felt Tristan’s large, warm hands encircle my body. I smiled and leaned back into him. “Good morning,” I greeted.

  “Good morning,” he replied, kissing my neck softly.

  I was wearing a thin blush slip with a deep neckline and a short hemline. Tristan’s hands started tracing the skin of my hands before sliding them underneath my slip. I could feel his hands on my stomach, near the waistband of my panties. The feel of his hard-on against my back thrilled me, but I also wanted to stretch out the moment. I wanted to make him wait first.

  “What are your plans for the day?” I asked.

  Tristan continued to kiss my neck. “I have a very precise schedule for today,” he replied.

  “Oh?” I said, in surprise. “I wasn’t aware you had meetings today.”

  “I don’t have meetings today,” he said. “I have appointments.”

  I felt a sharp stab of disappointment. “I was under the impression that you were free today.”

  “Nope,” he said. “Not free at all. I have lots to do today. Would you like me to tell you about my schedule for today?”

  I couldn’t have cared less at that particular moment, but I swallowed back my disappointment and nodded. “Sure,” I said. “Go ahead.”

  “My first appointment is right now actually,” Tristan began.

  I frowned. “Now?” I asked. “It’s early.”

  “I don’t think so,” he replied. “My first appointment involves fucking my girlfriend on this balcony, under the open sky.”

  I let out a burst of laughter as I realized what his schedule would look like for today. “After she’s well and truly satisfied, I have a romantic breakfast to order in—which we’ll eat naked, of course,” he continued.

  “Of course,” I smiled.

  “Then some hot shower sex,” he said. “Then maybe a sojourn down to the beach, which will inevitably include more sex. Afterwards, lunch at the restaurant of her choice, and back up here for more sex.”

  “So basically your appointments all include sex with me?” I asked.

  “They do,” he nodded, and I could feel his smile.

  “There’s just one problem,” I said, turning around to face him.

  I could feel his cock hard against my thigh, and I knew he was well and truly ready for me, but I wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t have the same appointments listed on my schedule,” I said. “And, I think you need me for all of them.”

  Tristan was about to say something when I leaned in and kissed him slowly. As I kissed him, letting my tongue trace the curve of his lower lip, I slipped my hand down and into his boxers. He groaned as I encircled his cock with my hand and started massaging gently. His hands started exploring my body, and I allowed him to remove my panties without a fuss. The moment they were down, however, I pushed him away and walked back into the suite.

  “Hey,” Tristan said. “Where are you going?”

  “I had an appointment with Ben,” I told him, with a smile.

  He followed me into the suite. His hard-on was glaringly prominent through his boxers and I felt a little thrill of satisfaction. “Ben?” he repeated.

  “Yes.”

  “Fuck Ben,” he said forcefully. “I want you now.”

  “I’m afraid I’m busy today,” I said, heading into the room. “I need to get dressed and head out.”

  He groaned as he followed me into the bedroom. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m getting ready to head out,” I said.

  Then I started undressing slowly, moving my body seductively and with increasing slowness. Tristan watched me carefully, and I saw him cringe a little. “You are cruel,” he said. “How come I’ve never noticed that before?”

  I laughed and threw my camisole on the floor. He stared hungrily at my naked body, and I gave him a smile. “Can you pass me my clothes?”

  “I most certainly will not,” he said decidedly as he came forward and grabbed me.

  I wanted to resist him a little longer before finally succumbing, but the heat of his lips, coupled with his hands on my ass, was a little too much for me to turn from. He pushed me down onto the bed, but instead of climbing on top of me, he settled between my thighs and pushed my legs open. The moment I felt his tongue inside me, I let out a bracing moan and clung to either side of the giant bed.

  I writhed, while he went to town on me until I was wet and moaning and weak with desire. When he lifted his head up, I reached for him. He pulled himself up and pushed inside me in one smooth move. His cock was so large and hard that every time he entered me, I felt this whooshing feeling in the pit of my stomach that always traveled up to my heart. It was this glorious feeling of satisfaction that I had never felt before.

  He fucked me furiously, pumping into me with a force so that my body shook violently beneath him. I pulled up my legs and wrapped them around his
waist. I felt his body shake as he slipped deeper inside me. We rocked back and forth together, clinging to each other and rolling around on the bed like animals locked in a mortal embrace.

  It was one of those days when one position was just not enough. First Tristan was on top, then he pulled me on top of him, and I rode him while he massaged my breasts and pinched my nipples gently. Then we changed positions again, and Tristan fucked me from behind until my whole body was writhing in ecstasy.

  He didn’t give me time to recover from my first orgasm. He turned changed position again, and I fucked him in the reverse cowgirl position. Then the position changed again. It seemed like he fucked me in every position a man can take a woman. I was weak and shaking afterward and despite the fact that it was a cool and comfortable day, there was a visible layer of perspiration lining my body.

  Tristan was sweating, too, and once I had calmed down, and my breathing returned to normal, I rolled back on top of him and licked the sweat off his neck and chest. He just lay there, with his hands on my back, moving up and down in concentric circles.

  “So,” I said. “How did the first appointment go?”

  Tristan’s laugh was weak too. “It was…orgasmic,” he replied. “There were moments that I didn’t think I was going to survive.”

  I smiled. “Poor boy. I think you need breakfast.”

  “I think it’s the only way I’m going to have the energy to get out of bed.”

  I was kissing his neck when I heard him give a thoughtful sigh. “What is it?” I asked, sensing that something was on his mind.

  “I don’t deserve you,” he said. He was smiling, but I could see the veil of seriousness underneath it.

  “Don’t say that,” I said.

  “It’s true.”

  “You’ve given me a lot,” I reminded him. “You’ve introduced me to my sexuality, and you’ve given me a job I’m passionate about. That means a lot to me.”

  “Is it enough?”

  I knew what he was really asking. Did I mind the hours he worked and the limbo relationship we found ourselves in most of the time? He wanted to know if I was satisfied with our relationship the way it was.