by Anne Malcom
Asher grinned, he brushed a wayward strand from my face. “I’m happy that you seem to feel about the same as I do about my departure,” he said quietly.
I stared at him. Couldn’t stop, even if you paid me. This might be the only time a guy this hot ever paid any attention to me, looked at me like this. I was soaking up every part of this moment like a sponge. Especially his hand at my hip.
“I’ll be back for you,” he promised darkly, his eyes glinting with desire.
I swallowed. “What?” I half squeaked in surprise.
The hand at my hip tightened. “You stay here, don’t drink anymore.” He frowned down at the glass in my hands. “You’re cute as fuck drunk, baby, but I want you to be able to sit on the back of a bike.” His eyes darkened more. “I want you to be able to remember how hard I fuck you tonight, and I want you to be able to suck my cock,” he murmured.
It took a full couple of seconds for his crude words to penetrate my foggy mind. They penetrated my womb the moment they left his beautiful mouth that wasn’t inhibited by alcohol. I sucked in a breath. No one had ever talked to me like that before. I didn’t think people actually talked like that. I loved it. The image of him ... fucking me, of me doing that to him, had my panties dampen. It was a feeling I was not used to. I knew what being turned on felt like, I wasn’t a completely innocent virgin, but I didn’t know what this felt like. Feeling like my whole body was on fire as a Hot with a capital H biker stood in front of me saying dirty things.
“Fuck,” he muttered again, hand at my jaw. “See that my little flower likes the sound of that,” he said, eyes on my lips.
I didn’t say anything. I licked my lips, feeling them drying out.
His eyes narrowed. “I’ve got to leave. Like I said, I’m coming back. You’re on water till then. Then you’re on the back of my bike, then in my bed,” he declared hotly.
I kept my silence, that all sounding good, but in a fairytale sense. I couldn’t actually believe this guy was saying this stuff to me. Plain Lily Smith had a sex god telling her dirty things and promising her to take her to bed.
Did alcohol also cause hallucinations?
His thumb brushed my lip. “I’m gonna need some kind of verbal confirmation before I let you go, flower,” he instructed. “I know your body’s telling me yes in a million different ways, I need your mouth to say it.”
“I’m affirmative on ... all of that,” I said quickly not even registering how cringe worthy my words were. Affirmative? What was I, a commando in a bad action movie?
Asher smirked. “Good.”
Then, to my utter amazement, he leaned in and pressed his lips firmly to mine in a closed mouth kiss. I shut my eyes, trying to imprint the moment in my memory. When I opened them, he was gone.
Did that really happen?
Hours later, this was one of the reasons why I was sitting here with people who were both strangers and friends at the same time. I was clinging to the hope that conversation was not only real, but that he was coming back. Well that, and also because I was having fun. I never had fun around big groups of people. I was too shy. They made me anxious, had me feeling sick to my stomach. This group, this motley and disgustingly attractive group, had me feeling the kind of ease that I only felt around my mom or Bex.
I glanced down at my phone that had started ringing. Speak of the Devil. I grinned as Gwen was carried into the house by Cade and stood to answer the phone.
“Hey, Mom,” I greeted brightly. Although I had done as instructed and kept to water, my brain was still swimming in the depths of tequila.
“Heya, peanut, it’s after midnight. Just calling to make sure you hadn’t turned into a pumpkin or anything,” she greeted lightly.
There was no sternness or judgment in Mom’s voice. I was almost twenty-one and a grown adult. I didn’t have a curfew, I’d never had one in fact, but me staying out this late wasn’t exactly normal.
“My glass slippers are still firmly on my feet,” I joked. “I’m having a great time with Gwen and her friends….” I paused, chewing my lip. Asher hadn’t arrived, and I felt he might never. I had to prepare my mom, though. “I … um … might not be coming home tonight,” I said quietly, moving even further away from the remaining group. My wanderings led me to a dark corner at the side of the house.
There was a pause, then I was pretty sure the sounds of clapping were heard in the background on the other end of the phone. Yes, clapping.
“Are we talking a real life male-female sleepover?” she gushed as if the thought of her daughter potentially having a one-night stand pleased her.
That was my mom.
“Well, I don’t know, I may still come home,” I hedged, not wanting to keep my hopes up.
“Pish posh you’ll be home. Whoever it is that has finally gotten my Lily to open her beautiful self to, will be unlikely to be letting her go home alone,” she stated decisively. “Though, do use protection. I know you’re on the pill, but that’s not one hundred percent. As much as I want to be a grandma, I know you seem hell bent on that college education,” she stated lightly.
Such conversations with my mom were not unusual. She was a free spirit. Open about everything in life and all about free love.
I still felt awkward talking to her about this. Boys had never been on the scene, so we’d not had the opportunity to talk about this. Actually, we had, she’d given me multiple sex talks, but since sex was never a real possibility for me, I’d merely gotten embarrassed at her blasé attitude toward it all.
“I’ll text you,” I promised.
“Okay, hon. And I know it’s your first time. So be sure. Be comfortable. Make sure he treats you right ... and that he takes care of you before he finishes,” she added mischievously.
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, gross, Mom.”
“Text me if he does turn out to be an idiot and stand my beauty up. I’ll come and get you,” she offered.
“Mom, it’s late. I’m not doing that,” I protested.
“I’m up, not likely to be going to sleep, I’m feeling inspired,” she told me brightly.
This too was not unusual. My mom was an artist and came with all the idiosyncrasies of being creative. When she was inspired she was usually in a sort of trance, not eating, sleeping, or anything until she was done. This happened routinely over the course of my childhood, and when it did happen, I’d take over all of the household chores and responsibilities. I guessed a lot of kids would resent their moms for obsessively painting for days at a time and leaving them to shop for groceries and pay power bills, but I didn’t. It was part of what made my mom who she was. She accepted every part of me, even the parts I couldn’t accept.
“Okay,” I relented, knowing how embarrassing it would be to get my mom to pick me up when Asher realized that he could do much better than me.
“Love you, baby,” she said.
“Love you too,” I whispered back.
I rang off and stared into the darkness, the sounds of laughter and music carrying slightly.
Who was I kidding?
Asher wasn’t coming back.
“You’re an idiot, Lily,” I muttered to myself, lifting my phone to call my mom and request extraction from this situation.
“What are you doing hiding in dark corners talking to yourself, Little Flower?” Asher’s voice came out of the darkness.
I jumped and let out a muffled squeal as his hands circled around me. His arms tightened on my mid-section and brought my back flush to his front.
“Not that I mind being in a dark corner with you, baby. It means I get to put my hands wherever I want without unwelcome eyes,” his voice tickled my ear, and his hand ran up my side to the bottom of my breast, his other hand dancing at the top of my pants.
I sucked in a strangled breath, wanting his fingers to move, needing them to, but also vaguely aware of the people not far away. It didn’t even matter to me he was a virtual stranger, and his hands were roving in a way that was decidedly familiar.
It felt right. Or maybe that was my hormones talking. Or tequila. Or this was an invasion of the body snatchers type situation. Either way, I was enjoying it. And my little holiday away from the shy and anxious Lily.
He stayed like that a moment, before he spun me round, quick enough to make my head spin and his hands spanned my neck. I could make out his silhouette in the darkness, but not much more.
“But,” he continued, “someone like you, is not someone to be quickly taken in a dark corner. Someone like you needs to be savored, worshiped, in the light, where I can get a full view of your magnificence,” he declared roughly.
My stomach did a little flip. I didn’t even care that what he was saying was impossible. Me, magnificent? He was obviously using some line to get me into bed. He didn’t need to. His words and his deep husky voice hypnotized me nonetheless.
“So, we’re leaving. Are you good with that babe?” he questioned.
“Um, yeah,” I muttered. “Does this mean I get to ride on your bike?” I asked as he clasped my hand and yanked me out of the darkness.
He gave me a sideways grin. “Only way I ever take you anywhere is on the back of my bike,” he answered firmly as we rounded the house.
It didn’t even matter I was leaving without saying goodbye. I knew it was rude, but I wasn’t about to ruin my chances of handing my V card to a sex god for mere pleasantries. I needed him now before he realized just how plain I was. We stopped in front of a beautiful sleek bike, illuminated softly by the street lights.
I gaped at it. “Wow. I like your bike,” I declared, running my eyes over it.
I moved to an arguably better view. Asher looked at me with something like amazement. I suddenly felt self-conscious at my uncharacteristic chatter. He yanked on my hand to pull my body flush to his.
“I can’t have you on it without knowing what you taste like,” he muttered against my mouth.
Then he was kissing me. I mean, kissing me. Not chaste like before. This was the kind of kiss I read about in romance novels. Ones people wrote sonnets or pop songs about. One I didn’t even know existed. His tongue plundered my mouth, he lay me to ruin with one kiss.
I’d been kissed before. I may have had social issues, but a couple of guys had foraged past that to awkwardly kiss me in a way that had me uneager to repeat the experience.
This was not one of those times. I would have been quite happy to be standing there with Asher kissing me until, oh, I don’t know, the end of time. When he released me, my knees were jelly and I felt like my whole body was tingling, I was pulsing in between my legs.
Asher stared at me. “Fuck. Someone like you, kisses like that? I can’t wait to see how you ride my cock, flower,” he said hoarsely.
I swallowed roughly at his words.
He reached into a compartment on the bike, straightening and standing in front of me once more.
“You ever ridden before?” he asked as if he hadn’t just rocked my frigging world.
I shook my head as he fastened a helmet on it. I resisted a giggle and the double meaning to my answer.
His fingers paused at the clasp. “Just lean with me, I promise you, it’s the best feeling on the planet,” he told me quietly.
He mounted the bike, and without any hesitation, any overthinking that usually crippled me, I swung on behind him, pressing my body against his.
We hurtled off into the night.
He was wrong. Riding with him wasn’t the best feeling on the planet. His lips on mine was the best feeling. The bike came a close second.
On the bike there was no way to talk. No need to be aware of myself the way I always was. I was free. Free from the shackles of my self-doubt, of my anxiety. There was only the road and Asher’s warm body.
It was over all too soon, when we pulled up to a gate beyond which I knew lay the Sons of Templar clubhouse. Everyone in Amber knew this place. The girls I went to school with, the beautiful, popular ones, made it their mission to go to the parties they held there every Friday, though they weren’t successful. The club was strict about underage girls, so they’d been snubbed until they were eighteen anyway.
Asher nodded to someone beyond the wire fence and the gate opened to us.
Here I was, getting a glimpse into the place that had both fascinated and feared me throughout my life.
I hadn’t been like those girls at school, desperate to get the notoriously attractive men in the Sons to notice them. I hadn’t been intoxicated with the idea of a romance with an outlaw. Romance, in general, wasn’t on my radar. In order to have a romance, you had to be able to speak to the opposite sex. I wasn’t crash hot on that. I opted for steamy books instead and focusing on my studies and my future.
After Asher had pulled me off his bike, we walked to the clubhouse in silence. It was a structure separated from the garage that was also within the compound, it had a big wraparound porch and some fire drums which had a couple of people milling around. It was mostly deserted. As was the room we emerged into, one that looked like a huge living room, with a sofa, a big television, a bar and a pool table. My wide eyes didn’t get time to inspect this, Asher’s hand was tight on mine, and he all but dragged us into a hallway then into a room which ran off it. When he shut the door behind us, I barely had time to take in the small, tidy room which didn’t have much other than a bed and dresser.
I was yanked around, and Asher’s mouth was on mine before I realized I was alone. In a room. With a hot guy. All thoughts that could cripple me were silenced with Asher’s mouth on mine. With his roving hands that ran down my body, roughly cupping my breasts.
I moaned into his mouth. No one had ever touched me, kissed me like that in my life. I pressed my body into his, mindless need dictating my emotions. Nothing else. He was treating me like a woman. A woman he desired. One who was beautiful. Even if this was only for a night, I’d suck out every piece of tonight I could.
His hands went to my ass, and he lifted me so my legs wrapped around his waist.
“You taste so fuckin’ good, flower,” he murmured, mouth inches from mine. “Can’t wait to taste that pussy,” he continued, then he dropped me onto the bed.
I lay there, my mind swirling with desire at his words, at the hungry look on his face. A look that was directed at me. I stared as he quickly tossed his leather vest into the corner of the room, and my eyes widened when he yanked his gray tee over his head. Abs, like a fricking six pack assaulted my eyes.
“Dude,” I whispered. “It’s like you’re photoshopped.” I unintentionally quoted one of my favorite movies, but that was how it looked to me right now. It couldn’t possibly be real. A man like that, wanting a girl like me?
A grin rippled through the hunger on his face, and he moved to lie on top of me on the bed, his bare, hard skin pressing into mine while he watched my face.
“You’re full of surprises, flower, it’s hotter than anything,” he murmured against my lips.
He kissed the bejesus out of me, then moved his mouth downward. He nuzzled my neck a moment then lifted his head. He regarded my button up dress for a minute, then his hands went to either side and, I kid you not, ripped it apart.
The buttons went flying everywhere.
I didn’t even care about the fate of my dress, about the fact it meant I’d be stumbling out of here in only my bathing suit. Nothing mattered the moment he hissed as he exposed my breast and sucked on my nipple.
Every nerve ending in my body tingled at this, I rubbed my thighs together at the feeling building in between them. I’d never known his beautiful mouth would feel so good on my breasts. I knew what orgasms were. I’d given them to myself before. I knew in this moment, whatever was coming would eclipse those pitiful excuses.
“You gonna come with just my mouth on your nipple, flower?” Asher muttered, and cold air bit my naked breast.
I didn’t have the constitution to mutter anything intelligible, only looked at him through my lashes.
“You’re gonna come in my mouth,” he
growled.
My stomach dipped.
“You want that?” he asked his voice hoarse.
His hands trailed my stomach and I sucked in a breath as he dipped down my bare skin. I could only nod as his fingers explored the skin no man had ever touched.
“I want you to tell me what you want,” he murmured, his finger making lazy circles.
“I w-want,” I stuttered, and my breath came in pants as he kept making those circles.
He stopped, his eyes on mine. “You want what?”
“Don’t stop,” I moaned.
He grinned. “Tell me what you want. Then I’ll eat you, baby, taste your honey on my tongue.”
“I want that, I want your mouth,” I whispered.
His entire face darkened. “Where, baby?”
His fingers began to move again, this time dancing at my entrance.
“My pussy,” I whispered, just as his finger plunged into me.
His entire body froze as I cried out in pleasure, on the edge of climax.
His eyes locked on mine. His face turned blank.
“Tell me you’re not a fucking virgin,” he clipped, the cords in his neck tight.
I froze as I realized the look on his face. I felt my face redden. “I’m sorry, I forgot to mention,” I said in a small voice.
All I wanted to do was scramble away, hide my embarrassment, and never look at another man again. But his body was on mine, holding me hostage the same way his stare was.
“How the fuck,” he ground out, “does someone forget they’re a virgin?”
I tried to move, but his free hand, the one not inside me, pressed against my chest. “You don’t need to move to answer,” he stated firmly.
I stared at him, feeling my eyes prickle slightly, residual arousal from his body, his finger, making it hard to think straight.
“Well,” I started, unable to tear my eyes from his, “first it was the tequila, I was kind of drunk off that. Then it was you,” I whispered and his eyes flared. “I got drunk off you. Off the fact that you talked to me. You wanted me. You kissed me. All I wanted, all I want is more. You made me forget I hadn’t had more before,” I admitted in a small voice.