Right Amount of Wrong: A Standalone Romance

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Right Amount of Wrong: A Standalone Romance Page 9

by Bijou Hunter


  I leave her only long enough to slide a condom over my new erection. My dick probes her opening, finding the flesh sopping wet. The head disappears inside her, sucked deeper by her tight muscles. I press forward, and her virgin pussy takes a few inches more. Vidalia groans, though, and her hips twist side to side seeking comfort.

  “More,” I say, but the word sounds like a question.

  Vidalia relaxes her pussy, and I shove another inch inside her.

  “Gunnar, please.”

  I don’t know what she’s asking for, but I move my hips slowly. The head of my cock opens her wider with each thrust. I watch Vidalia’s face for signs that she’s in pain or wants me to stop. Relaxed from the liquor and her orgasm, she tries and fails to keep pace with my thrusts. Finally, she reaches up and caresses my nipples in the way I did hers earlier.

  Fuck, if she isn’t about to make me come again. Never have I wanted my nipples teased. Less than an hour in bed with Vidalia, and I’m already learning new shit about myself.

  “Don’t leave me!” she cries out, reaching for me. “Stay with me.”

  Carefully lowering my heavy body onto hers, I hold her in my arms. Despite my tender, reassuring kisses, my hips drive into her, bringing our bodies closer to another orgasm. I feel her struggling to deal with such pleasure while so full. Her eyes clamp shut, and her pussy is a vise around my cock.

  “Gunnar, I love you,” she nearly screams, coming so hard I think she might cry.

  Between the pressure of her velvety pussy and the sounds of her panicked pleasure, my balls release everything they have. Fucking her hard, I whisper promises against her sweaty cheek.

  “You’re mine, and no one will hurt you. You’re so beautiful. So perfect. I love you more than I’ve loved anyone before, and I’ll never let you go.”

  Vidalia grips my shoulders, digging her nails into the flesh, leaving behind marks I’ll wear as a badge of honor. This woman let loose in a way I doubt she believed possible. Her body and mind are completely exposed and entirely dominated by the will of another.

  Shivering in my arms long after our hips no longer move together, Vidalia hides her face against my chest. I wait to see if she’s closed herself off to me again. Has the liquor worn off, leaving her worried about making the wrong decisions?

  “Gunnar?” she whispers, suddenly looking up at me.

  “What is it, baby?” I whisper back and lift my body off hers.

  “Can you play with my pussy again?” she asks, staring with wide eyes. “Suck my nipples too. I came too fast, and I need to feel it again.”

  Chuckling at how she never ceases to surprise me, I kiss her forehead. “Ask and you shall receive.”

  Vidalia’s flushed face matches her pink nipples waiting for another round of attention. I look over her pale flesh, noticing freckles between her tits and on her shoulders. I let my gaze enjoy the sight of her damp thighs already spreading so I can enjoy the sweet flavor inside.

  In even my most optimistic fantasies, I never imagined having Vidalia’s lovely curves and tender flesh at my disposal in the way she offers them up now. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who didn’t dream big enough.

  ⊱✿ ✿⊰

  Sex leaves me tender in all the right spots and emotionally freaked in all the wrong ones. One second, I’m ready to cry in the corner. The next, I wish I were sober enough to climb on Gunnar and ride him like a mechanical bull.

  After we’re worn out but before we collapse into sleep, Gunnar stares at me with his dark eyes. I refuse to look at him for the longest time, afraid of what I might find in his gaze. Eventually, my silence forces him to speak up.

  “Are you in pain?”

  “No,” I mumble, shaking my head. “I’m hungover.”

  “I knew fucking was a bad idea.”

  “No, you didn’t. You wanted this, and I wanted this. Don’t play dumb now.”

  “See, you sound mad.”

  “Gunnar, stop,” I say, wrapping myself tighter in the sheet. “Think about what it’d be like if this was your first time and how you’d feel weird the next day. I mean I know guys think sex is about getting off, but I shared my body with you, and I am not someone who shares a lot.”

  Of course, he looks ready to cry, and I feel guilty for refusing to soothe his bruised ego. I expect Gunnar to give me grief or the silent treatment, but he only pulls the blanket over me.

  “So you won’t get cold,” he whispers.

  Lips curling into a hint of a smile, I can’t believe how such a small gesture shifts my mood from nearly in tears to relaxing enough to sleep.

  “What was your first time like?” I ask, turning on my side to see him better.

  Gunnar mimics my position and studies my face. “Why would you want to know?”

  “I’m curious.”

  “All right, but there isn’t much to tell. It was with a girl I met at a party. She had a nose ring and long fucking nails. I did her against a dresser and finished in probably a minute. It was as unimpressive as sex can be. The only thing worse would have been if I came while putting on the condom.”

  “Were you embarrassed?”

  “Sure, and the girl called me a loser. I felt like one too, but I was sixteen and knew I’d get plenty of other chances.”

  “And you did,” I say, forcing my hand to rest on his chest.

  “None of them were as good as with you.”

  “Bull crap.”

  “No, not bull crap. I wish you could know how much better it felt with us, but I don’t want you testing it out with anyone else.”

  “You’re the only man I’ve ever been attracted to. Isn’t that weird?”

  “No.”

  Grinning, I have trouble keeping my eyes open. “I think I turned off the lustful teen part of me when my mom had me move out.”

  “That or when her boyfriend tried to fuck you.”

  “I told you about that?” I ask, opening my eyes.

  “You’re chatty when drunk.”

  “Well, that makes sense. Not the drunk stuff, but how what happened with him made me feel gross, and I didn’t want to feel that way again.”

  “Do you feel that way now?”

  “A little but being naked always makes me feel that way.”

  “I can kill that guy if you think it’d make you feel safer.”

  Studying Gunnar’s expression, I realize he’s serious, so I decide to lie, “I haven’t seen him in at least two years. He could be dead already.”

  “If he’s not, I could still kill him.”

  “You do what you need to do but don’t do it for me.”

  Gunnar smiles, making me shiver. “You need to demand more from me and everyone else.”

  “Demanding more never got me anything.”

  “You can demand more of me. I’m loyal, and I’ll do anything for those I love.”

  “I don’t think I’m that loyal. I often ignore calls from my friend, Fern, when she wants to whine about her husband. I also lie about having to work when Champagne wants me to babysit for her. Oh, and I sometimes don’t lie to protect someone’s feelings like when Reg asked if his hair was thinning and I said yes.”

  “You are pretty awful,” he says, wearing a sexy smirk.

  “The absolute worst.”

  “Why are you sweet to me?”

  “Umm,” I mumble. “I’m shallow?”

  “That could be it. I’ve been told that I’m quite a looker. You know for a guy that’s had his face pounded in.”

  “You’d be freaky pretty if you weren’t roughed up a little, you know? Even for a girl as shallow as me.”

  A yawn comes over me until I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. My hands reach for Gunnar’s warm body. I ache for reassurance against the waves of vulnerability crashing into me since I realized Gunnar lied. Now I distrust every word from his sexy lips.

  I’d believed I could ignore the trick he pulled. After all, didn’t I want him more than I wanted to truth?

 
Sex didn’t make me stronger, though. It left me exposed and even more open to the sting of his lies.

  My body wholeheartedly enjoyed the sex, but our passion opened my heart to a million questions without any answers.

  18

  Vidalia

  ⊱✿ ✿⊰

  Gunnar looks like a swaddled baby when I wake up next to him. He’s so tightly wrapped in the blanket that I can only see his handsome face and one of his strong hands.

  After watching him sleep for a few minutes, I slide out of bed and do what I should have done yesterday.

  After a quick shower, I dress in the clothes I wore the day Gunnar brought me here. Throwing a load in the wash, I want to make sure his mom’s clothes are clean when she returns. Next, I wipe down the kitchen and both bathrooms, sweep the floors, and even scrub the toilets. My goal is for the house to be as clean as when I arrived. Almost as if I’d never been here at all.

  Gunnar eventually stumbles out of the bedroom, looking still asleep despite having his eyes open a crack. He mumbles a hello and heads straight for the bathroom. I remain on the couch, fully dressed and ready to leave.

  Almost ten minutes later, Gunnar appears from the bathroom. He smells clean and masculine and seductive enough to tempt me into kicking off my shoes and tossing aside my pride.

  “Did you clean the house?” he asks, joining me on the couch and cuddling against my tense body.

  “Yes, and your mom’s clothes are folded on her dresser.”

  When Gunnar’s lips caress my forehead for a long time, I think he’s still too sleepy to realize the change in mood. I might need to throw icy water on him if I ever want to move along the conversation.

  “I want you to drive me home,” I say when he rests his head on the back of the couch and looks ready to zonk out.

  Frowning, Gunnar blinks rapidly. “Why?” he asks and looks around. “Is it because you had to clean?”

  I stand up and scowl at him. “I know you lied about that guy in the alley. I want to go home now.”

  “Wait, Vidalia,” he says and starts to stand.

  “No, I won’t wait. As much as I like you, Gunnar, you lied, and I can’t get past how weird that makes you. Now get your shoes and drive me home.”

  Gunnar stares at me for an unbearably long time before sighing.

  “You weren’t going to give me a chance. What else could I do?”

  “That’s not my problem. Take me home, or I’ll call my brother to get me.”

  Gunnar stands up and looms over me. I refuse to allow his natural intimidation tactic to sway my resolve. Staring up at him, I won’t flinch.

  Besides, his power over me has nothing to do with his size. No, his sad eyes are what claimed my heart and now beg me to relent to his needs. Putting him first and making us both happy was something I tried last night, but I remain on edge in a way only distance from Gunnar can fix.

  “Are you taking me home?” I ask and retrieve my phone.

  “My parents won’t be back for another day. Can’t you stay until then?”

  “No.”

  Gunnar looks around the room, still hoping to prevent me from leaving. After all, he wants me to stay, and his needs come first.

  “I love you,” he says as a last-ditch effort to make me stay.

  “I’ve fallen in love with you too, but that doesn’t change how we got to this moment and how I want to go home. For the last time, are you taking me or am I calling my brother?”

  Broad shoulders sagging, Gunnar sighs deeply. “I’ll take you.”

  The moment he turns away, I exhale unsteadily. I hadn’t been certain my resolve would hold. As uneasy as I feel about his lies and how I shared my body with someone I can’t trust, I did love these last few days with Gunnar. I hadn’t felt so safe and comfortable since my dad’s accident, and my family’s faults bubbled to the surface.

  Gunnar appears wearing his sloppily tied work boots. He reminds me of a spoiled kid half-assing every little thing. There are times when I struggle to accept that my soft and sometimes silly Gunnar is an enforcer for a biker club. Or that he made extra cash beating on men. He is one sexy contradiction, but I fight my smile. No doubt he’ll take any warmth as an invitation to keep me here.

  We walk outside to where his Harley sat unloved for the last few days. I can barely remember riding it here. I do recall how afraid I’d been when we arrived. Terrified based on a lie, I remind myself.

  Gunnar helps me climb on behind him and sighs full of melancholy when I wrap my arms around his waist.

  “Want to get breakfast on the way?” he asks, refusing to give up on winning.

  “No, thank you. Please, just take me home.”

  Shoulders drooping again, Gunnar starts the Harley. The roar of the bike forces me to tighten my grip on him. I’m scared of falling off, something I didn’t consider the last time I was on the Harley. After wrapping my fingers in his shirt, I hide my face against his back and hold on painfully tight for the entire ride. I don’t look up until he stops and turns off the engine.

  My house looks tiny now, and I frown at the sight of it. How would Gunnar fit in such a little home? A question without the need of an answer since he’ll never come inside.

  I climb off the Harley and steady my footing by holding onto his arm. Gunnar watches me, and I struggle not to bend to his will when those eyes stare at me so sadly.

  “Can I see you later today?”

  “I’ll call you,” I say, letting go of his arm after holding it for too long.

  “When?”

  “Soon.”

  Stepping back, I nearly trip over the curb. I am torn between rushing back into his dangerous arms and running to the safe boredom of my house. Gunnar only watches me, begging for me to give him what he wants.

  “Thank you,” I say, ready to turn and run inside.

  Gunnar’s confused frown stops me, and we stare at one another for so long that I’m startled by the neighbor’s garage door opening.

  Without thinking, I hurry to the Harley and whisper, “One kiss and then I’ll go.”

  My lips meet his, taking what I need. Gunnar’s hands reach for me, craving more than what I offer. He could easily wrap me into an embrace and force me back into his life and away from mine. Sensing he might try, I end the kiss and slip out of his reach.

  Then I’m gone. Running to the front door as if the devil himself is chasing me, I don’t dare look back. If I do, I’ll see Gunnar’s sad eyes and sweet lips, and I’ll want to return to him. I can’t chance falling under his spell again.

  Not until I’m strong enough to set ground rules, so he isn’t the only one calling the shots

  19

  Ogre

  ⊱✿ ✿⊰

  Vidalia’s miserable expression burns itself in my mind. I keep expecting her to call me or respond to my texts. She’s mine, meaning I’m hers. She ought to accept some responsibility for keeping me from feeling this horrible. I’d done everything I could to keep her from figuring out how I’d lied. When she wanted to leave, I hadn’t locked her in one of the rooms. I’d been reasonable, but she refuses to meet me halfway.

  Even knowing I’m full of shit, I remain righteous in my anger. Just up until I hear my parents arrive home and know I’ll now deal with their questions, accusations, and oh, crap, the teasing. I’ll never live down the needling I’m about to suffer.

  “So, you kidnapped a girl and kept her hostage at our house, huh?” Dad says as soon as he opens the door and sees me. “Is her body already in a shallow grave or will I need to help you dig that?”

  “You shouldn’t be digging anything with your bad back,” Mom mutters, following Dad inside. “Besides, you know the rule about burying what you kill. If he did the crime, he can do the cleanup.”

  “I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “We know,” Mom says, batting her dark eyelashes. “Wouldn’t be fun to tease you if there was a poor girl tied up or dead somewhere.”

  Dad glances around the liv
ing room. “So, where is she?”

  “I took her home.”

  “That’s a good start. Is she pressing charges? Will I need to visit you in the pen?” Mom asks, fighting laughter. “Heidi said the girl was brainwashed by your lies and good looks. Does that mean she’ll let your kidnapping slide?”

  “Vidalia isn’t brainwashed.”

  “She figured it out, huh?” Dad asks, resting on the couch. “Or did you fess up?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Tough titty, kid,” Mom says from the fridge where she gets beers for her and Dad. “You kept a girl against her will in our house. You’ll share the details whether you’re feeling chatty or not.”

  “She wasn’t here against her will,” I nearly yell, more frustrated about Vidalia ignoring my calls than my parents giving me deserved grief. “I got her here under false pretenses. It’s different.”

  “I stand corrected,” Mom says, joining Dad on the couch where they snicker at my annoyance.

  “I wish you could have met her. Vidalia is sweet and funny.”

  “And beautiful,” Dad says while wrapping an arm around Mom’s shoulders. “Let’s not act as if you’d pull this bullshit with a fugly, funny girl.”

  Dropping my pissed butt into a chair across from them, I shake my head. “Was Mom the only beautiful woman you ever met? No, but she was special, but beauty wasn’t why. Beauty is nice, but Vidalia is more than that.”

  Mom’s amused expression warms. “That’s sweet, baby.”

  “Now what?” Dad asks. “Does she find your bullshit romantic or will you soon receive a restraining order?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t pout, boy. If she’s interested, she’ll come crawling back.”

  “Crawling?” Mom grumbles, nudging Dad with her elbow. “If she gives him a chance, it won’t be a sign of weakness. Gunnar is quite the catch for any woman.”

  Dad reaches up and plays with the hair on the top of her head. “You’re thinking like his mom, not the mom of the girl he tricked here. What would you tell her if she were Heidi?”

  “Any man that wants you so badly that he’d lie, cheat, and steal to win you, yet never force himself on you, is a pretty interesting man. Maybe see a movie with him and find out what he’s like when not insane.”

 

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