by Jayne Blue
“So, beautiful eyelashes, you just licked your lip. Did you do that so I’d slide you closer to me and kiss you again?”
“Uh, no, salsa drip.”
I was trying to concentrate on the damn chips and not how much I did want him to do just that. Kiss me again. We had slid closer and closer to each other in our little u-shaped booth.
“Missed a spot.” He reached out and sure enough, to my horror, I had a bit of salsa on the corner of my lip. Bo swiped a finger, slowly across my lower lip and then put the salsa in his own mouth.
“You’re maybe too smooth for me.” I couldn’t help but smile. I hid my face in my hands.
“Yeah, that’s me, Bo Parker, smooth as the other side of the pillow. I like the dress but you’re not a dress-wearing kind of girl are you? The jeans and t-shirt the other day was you. You’re part hippy right? Or what’s the word, Bohemian? I get that vibe in between gun-toting and your wheeling and dealing.”
“I am part gypsy. That’s the truth, according to Papus, my grandpa. You’re right though. Today was a special occasion. Thus, the dress.”
“Yeah? Tell me about your occasion.”
“I graduated from high school.”
“Shit.” Bo exhaled it like he had just eaten a habanero pepper and was trying to cool down. He slid away from me and we were no longer brushing up against each other.
“What?”
He ran a hand through his hair and I knew I’d blown it somehow.
“How old are you?” he asked me. His demeanor had gone from all sex to all business. I sat up straighter and looked him in the eye. I suppose he wasn’t the first person to think I was older thanks to working at the shop.
“I turned eighteen in January, so, I am officially eighteen and a half.”
“So, you’re at least legal. Thank Christ. High School?” Bo shook his head and I swore for a second it looked like he was ready to walk out of the restaurant.
“What’s wrong? You can’t be that much older than me? How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-two.” I settled down after hearing that. Although he was clearly worldlier than I was, Bo Parker and I weren’t so far apart.
“The high school thing scared you, I suppose. But as you just heard, I’m a college girl now.”
“Oh yeah? Where are you going to college?”
“I’m accepted into the Savannah College of Art and Design.”
“Fancy. What’s the plan?”
“I’m either going to be a fashion designer with an interior design minor or an interior design major with a fashion minor.”
“Got it all planned out, do you?”
“Yep, I love working on displays in the store, repurposing some of the cool stuff that comes in, and I love finding funky clothes.”
“Funky?”
“You know, none of that mall stuff. I like things to be unique and special.”
“Just like you, eh Rick?” I rolled my eyes. He was too much.
“It’s Lyric. And stop. Are you satisfied that you’re not robbing the cradle, Old Man?” I tried to lighten the mood. It was commendable that he was worried that I was too young. But four years between us wasn’t a big deal. What seemed like an actual big deal was how different we both were. He was experienced, tough, and worldly. I was none of the above.
“Hmm. Maybe. I just thought, with the pawnshop you were … older. I was wrong wasn’t I?”
“First time for that?” I teased him.
“No, I’m wrong a lot and I’m a lot wrong for you.”
He looked at me and I saw his eyes travel to my neck. He was hungry. He’d said it before: the look he gave me made it clear he was hungry for me.
“Why are you wrong for me?”
“You know what these patches are? You know what I am?”
“A Dark Saint, that’s the motorcycle club right? You are in a biker club? You’re an … outlaw?” I didn’t know the right words for it.
“I am. We’re a lot different than those two losers in your shop the other day. We’re not saints, we’re Dark Saints. That’s for reasons you don’t want to know.”
“I want to know you.” I put it out there, I wanted this, I wanted Bo to like me, to stay with me a little while longer. This walk on the wild side was exactly what I needed before I went away to school.
“Lyric, I want to know you too.”
Bo slid close to me and his lips were on mine again. Every time he touched me, my reactions got more intense. My need to see where this was going to go increased. And my awareness of anything but how near his body was to mine disappeared.
His tongue touched mine. I felt a thrill. His arm was around me. His hand rested where my back touched my ass. He inched it down. Bo pressed me closer, so our legs touched. I had the instinct to crawl on top of him. Where had that come from?
“You’re sure about wanting to spend time with an outlaw?”
“Yes,” I said as he trapped my lower lip in his. He released my lip. But his eyes traveled to it and stayed. His hand caressed me through the fabric of my dress. He kept the pressure firm and insistent. I was locked next to him.
“Good. I want to spend time with you too. Now, try to keep your hands to yourself while I murder this taco.”
I laughed at that. How did he know that I did want to touch more of him? A lot more?
This was farther than I’d gone on any of my high school dates. He was leading me where I wanted to go with his lips, his tongue, and with his strong hand that held me close to him when we kissed.
I had a hard time focusing on my food. I suppose we ate our meals. I know I paid for it all as per our deal.
But nothing about the actual meal stayed in my mind.
All I could think about was how I wanted this man to be my first time. I knew it from the moment he kissed me.
I didn’t care that I was an eighteen-year-old virgin. No boy or situation had really seemed right to me before. I figured when it was right, it would happen.
I wanted it to happen with Bo Parker. I wanted it to happen soon.
I was on the verge of a saucy summer fling, right before I headed off to college.
I couldn’t wait for either!
4
Bo
* * *
Shit, eighteen. I was relieved and terrified by it at the same time. Even I wasn’t eighteen when I was eighteen. I’d been doing dirty work for The Dark Saints for years by the time I’d hit eighteen.
I did a stint in juvie for beating up some asshole the second I got to high school. He was picking on this pretty girl I liked. I went off. I made my point with my fists.
I didn’t know how to control my anger back then. If a situation was new, if I was threatened, if I was pissed, it all came out in punches.
I was a foster kid. When I went before the judge, there were no parents to stick up for me in court. They threw me in for a year.
One of my foster parents, one of the few that didn’t suck, knew E.Z. and offered me up to the MC as a kid who could do odd jobs. E.Z. was the one who picked me up from the lockup after my time was done. From the moment E.Z. got me out of there, I did everything I could to make as a full member of The Dark Saints.
I didn’t say no to a single job. I got to use my anger and my fists. And I learned how to control them.
I was a weapon for The Saints, and that was my education. By the time I was Lyric’s age, I knew where bodies were buried. I had buried them myself. I had patched in. That was my graduation.
She was the opposite of that.
The way I’d first seen her – that swagger, that sass, and that confidence – had made me think she was a little older, maybe my age? But shit. Just done with high school?
I was going to have to take it slow. I was going to have to be careful.
If I was smart, I would go find the blonde again from the other night. That would be the easy, trouble-free lay way to go.
Except that’s not what I wanted.
I wanted to be with Lyric.
I wanted to hear about her plans. I liked making her blush. And I liked seeing her figure things out for herself. I dug everything about her personality.
And then there was the way she looked. Her crazy hair on top of her banging body? I was completely into it.
I needed to remember though, she was eighteen. She hadn’t seen what I had.
If I wanted to be with her, and I did, I’d have to handle with care.
It was like learning to use my fists. I could go in swinging, or in a rage, and pummel everything in my path. But that got me in lock up and usually with a gut full of regret.
If I took this slow and easy, If I let her go at her pace, this could be one sweet summer with Lyric Wilde.
Our dinner at the Tres Hermanos was a first date, I guess. It was an exercise in control once I had my hand on her luscious backside. She was young, I got that now, but the way she kissed drew me closer. It also put thoughts in my head that were fucking distracting.
I loved listening to her talk. But keeping my hands off her took a lot more effort than I expected. It was all I could do not to just run out of there and take her back to my little place.
When I reached for the check, she put her hand on the bill.
“I got it, that was the deal.”
“That was the deal.”
She paid the bill and even left a tip. Again, it was stuff like that, the way she handled things, that made her seem older. Just out of high school. Shit. I had finished high school equivalency after E.Z. put me to work. I never fit in there, not for a moment.
After dinner I took her hand in mine and led her out to my bike. I always parked a little away. I didn’t want any assholes to scratch my baby. My Harley was the first thing I paid for in my life. It was the reward I gave myself for the work I did for E.Z.
It was dark and I held Lyric’s hand in mine as I led her to my ride.
“So, this is a Harley Heritage Soft Tail isn’t it?”
“How do you know that?”
“I had to research it once, a guy tried to pawn one and Papus had me price it.”
“Yep, well, it’s my baby.”
“It is pretty.”
I put her face in my hands and she tilted her head up. She was probably a good half-dozen or more inches shorter than me, so I leaned down.
Just a kiss for tonight. That would be all. We were intense at dinner and I didn’t want to overwhelm her.
She tilted her head up to meet my lips. Her skin was so soft under my fingers. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her closer to me. Lyric melted into me. Her lips were so luscious. That was her body too, soft, warm, luscious curves that my hands couldn’t stop touching.
I ran my hand against her bare leg and slid it up her soft thigh. I heard her sigh, this sweet sound that was like some sort of dynamite to me. I was so on fire for her I pushed it further. My hand slid under that dress. I palmed her ass and she swayed closer.
I kissed her harder. I wanted to be sure she’d never been kissed this way by anyone else. And a deep part of me was rising and realizing I didn’t want anyone else to kiss her this way ever again.
“Bo, I’m not sure,” she said, and the end of the sentence hung in the air between us. I had to slow down with her. We were less than five minutes away from doing it on my fucking bike.
“Shh. You’re right. You make me crazy. But I need to get you home. Now.”
It was true. I went from zero to sixty with her. One kiss and I wanted to get her naked.
“I didn’t mean for that. We’re just outside and well …” She stopped again, mid-sentence.
“No, home for you Wilde Girl. Or I’m going to eat you alive.”
I stole a kiss from her then to punctuate it. It was good that she knew I was a big bad wolf.
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” and the girl that was too young for me flashed her saucy side. I was rock hard, and it was uncomfortable as hell.
“Get on.”
I put a hand out and guided her on the back of the bike. I got on and felt her gently hold on to me. She’d gone from flirty to timid in a heartbeat.
“Are you mad at me?” she whispered in my ear.
“No. But I know where this is headed.”
“Where?”
“Me, fucking you in the parking lot of a Mexican restaurant. That ain’t romance and you deserve better.”
I wish I were better with words. I wish there was another way to say it but that was the truth.
I started the engine and we made the quick drive back to Wilde Pawn.
She directed me around to the back entrance of their building, where she lived. It was funny; it wasn’t so different to the set up I had nearby. I wondered how we both could grow up in this same town and never meet until now. I knew if I’d ever seen her before it would have stuck in my brain.
She climbed off and, without a word, walked to her door. I didn’t know if I’d see her again. If I’d scared her. She should be scared. I’d watch her get to her door, safely inside and that would be it. I’d leave her alone.
Lyric put the key in her door and then stopped. She turned around and damned if she didn’t stare me down. She took two big steps back to me.
“Lean down here.”
“Giving orders now eh?” I did lean down close to her. Her eyes searched mine. For a second, we were suspended there, together.
Then she stretched up on her tiptoes and this time she kissed me. It wasn’t tentative or innocent. It was fire. I gripped the handlebars tight. If I didn’t, that would be it. There would be no turning back.
“I want you to take me out. I’m not too young for you. And I know you want to see me again.”
“Fine. Be ready at 7 p.m.”
“Make it six-thirty,” she said and then Lyric quickly separated from me, ran to the door and slipped inside.
The taste of Lyric Wilde was still on my tongue.
I was already too far gone with her and there really was no turning back.
I considered how exactly to play this as I drove back to my place.
I lived with a few of The Saints in a building the club owned. On the first two floors, we stored bikes, supplies, tools, a flatbed trailer, and dozens of different things the club needed at different times.
It was my job to turn the top floors into apartments, or to do the framing, anyway. The club wanted to rent these or have them ready for club members. Whatever. I was in the only one that was finished enough to live in. I worked on the rest of them whenever I was off club business.
I remember when I first moved from crashing pretty much anywhere to this place. I was damned impressed with myself. My own four walls. Walls I built with my own hands.
If I hadn’t been a Saint, I would have worked construction full time. But I couldn’t imagine not being in the MC. It was because of them I had learned to work with my hands in the first place.
I looked around. It wasn’t fancy, but it was nice. I could bring Lyric here if I threw out my garbage and actually bought food for the small fridge.
My Wilde Girl could handle it. I smiled at the thought of her.
Wilde Girl.
* * *
Club business for me usually meant E.Z.’s business. He handled a lot of the operations along with Bear, our Prez. But mostly, since E.Z. brought me in and E.Z. schooled me up, it was E.Z. who kept me occupied with stuff to do for the club.
And E.Z. was on my ass again about Dougie and Arnie. He wasn’t letting it go.
“I told you if you didn’t make a point of it those two fuckers would be crawling around again.” E.Z. was pissed, as usual.
“I told you they ran like rats out of town. I didn’t need to do more than look at them.”
We were at The Dude Ranch. E.Z. had called me there. It was a strip club, which wasn’t my scene. But E.Z. loved the place.
“I want them both fucked up. You get me? I want them shitting blood. They’re trying to sell heroin in Port Az. Bear put his foot down. We stop that shit.”
Everything important in the MC went to vote at Church. Getting a say, adding your two-cents, that was one of the privileges of being a full member. I didn’t get to all the votes. Usually E.Z. had me out on businesses for the MC. I also fucking hated politics. Even in biker clubs there were politics. Just tell me what I need to do for my brothers, and I did. Don’t make me take sides or lobby for position. I hated that shit.
I was fine with E.Z. telling me what the club wanted and pointing me in the direction to make it happen. That I could do. That was my job.
But E.Z. was being more of a dick than normal on this one. I felt like it was overkill for two low-level idiots. They were drug pushers, not drug lords.
“Yeah, that’s the vote. Scare them out of town. Pretend they’re fucking your sister.”
E.Z. had a way with words. I didn’t have a sister, but I got the point loud and clear just the same.
“Fine.”
“And Bo, this time I don’t want to see their damn faces near Port Az again.”
“Got it.”
“They were sleazing around Cups for shit’s sake, the last I heard. It’s bad for business there and I have to hear about it. College kids don’t need heroin dealers at their hookups. Handle it.”
“Yes, E.Z.”
I had a job to do. If the club voted it to be done, I did it. I didn’t need to be physically at each vote. I existed to ensure the will of The Saints was done.
But for the first time in my entire life, something other than The Dark Saints MC motivated me. I wanted to get this club business handled so I could be with Lyric at night.
Maybe what E.Z feared was true. The club was going soft. I was thinking more about a chick than a job for the MC. That was not my normal brain pattern. But Lyric wasn’t just any chick.
I had an idea for later that night with Lyric but I needed the okay from Maddox. My brother in the MC had a perfect spot for a date. Shit. A date? I hoped it was okay for a date, seeing as dating was not what you would call what I did with women.
I called Maddox to check with him. I braced myself for the ribbing he was about to give me when I asked for this favor.