by Zoey Parker
Unless I had. Fuck. I didn’t wanna be that guy who could fuck her up for the rest of her life or something.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” I rolled over until I was almost on top of her. She was just the way I left her, practically on her stomach with her legs spread.
“No. I mean, not any more than you would have, anyway. You’re pretty big.” Then she laughed quietly. “Isn’t that what guys like to hear?”
“Yeah, but it helps if the girl is telling the truth,” I said.
“Oh, I am. You’re huge. I didn’t think I could get you all the way inside me.”
I couldn’t help it. My ego got a little bigger.
“What’s wrong, then?”
“I don’t know. It’s a lot to handle,” she admitted. She finally rolled over, and I moved back to give her room. “Like, we didn’t know each other before we started doing this. That’s strange for me. I don’t know if you’re used to being with a lot of different women…”
“I wouldn’t say a lot,” I said. I was lying, but she didn’t need to know. What she also didn’t need to know about was the sex fest I was on in the months after my release. I must have slept with dozens of women since then, in just three months.
Still, she was different. I hated that the thought kept coming to mind, but I couldn’t stop it. There was something special about her. I felt more comfortable with her. I could be myself, not “Eric the biker” or “Eric the tough guy.” It was who I was, but not all of who I was. I had pushed myself way down deep inside a long time before that. It made it easier for me to do the things I had to do. I could beat a guy half to death as long as I didn’t think about what it might do to his family, or whether he had a mother who worried about him being mixed up in the wrong things. I could run guns and drugs as long as I didn’t think about the people on the other side of the transaction—the people who would eventually get their hands on both and maybe kill themselves or other people.
I could kill someone if I didn’t think of them as a person who had a life in the minute before they crossed my path.
I moved away from her, rolling onto my back again. I couldn’t be too close to her, because she kept making me think these thoughts. I didn’t want to think them. Life was easier when I didn’t think.
She wouldn’t let me get away though. This time, she rolled over toward me and snuggled up next to me. Oh, shit. I wanted to buck her off, tell her to stick to her side of the bed.
But I couldn’t. Not just because it would be a dick thing to do, but because I already wanted her again. Instead of pushing her away, I put my arms around her.
Chapter Nine
Michelle
Had it really just happened? Had I dreamed the whole thing? I couldn’t have. None of my dreams compared to what had just happened.
I felt giddy and giggly and warm and relaxed all over. Loose as a noodle, as my mother used to say when she was completely relaxed. That was how I felt. Like my body was made of water, and I was floating along without a care in the world. So that was what it was all about. That was what I had been missing. I finally understood what the big deal was.
“You okay?” he asked. I noticed for the first time the way he was holding me in his arms. So gently, tenderly. He understood how I felt, I thought. It was a very intimate, raw, vulnerable night. He had been right there with me, guiding me through it. He could have taken advantage. He could have used me. He’d been nothing but amazing. I wished we could go back and do it all again.
“I’m fine. More than fine.”
He chuckled. “I know what you mean.”
“Was it good for you, the first time, I mean?”
He stopped chuckling. “No. Not many first times are very good.”
“That was what my best friend said. Most girls don’t get anything more than a…what did she say? Thanks or was that okay.”
He laughed. “That’s pretty much how it goes. Nobody knows what they’re doing the first time. If you’re with another virgin, forget it.”
“Unless you were in love,” I said. “I think if it was two virgins, but they were very much in love, it would be different. They could sort of…help each other through it.”
He was silent for a long time before talking. “Do you really believe that?”
“You make me feel like the world’s biggest nerd,” I said, wishing I had never spoken at all.
“No, no. I don’t mean to. I actually think it’s kind of nice that you believe that. I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t with a virgin the first time.”
“Who were you with?”
“Ahh, are you gonna make me say it?”
I giggled. “You don’t have to.” I couldn’t see his face in the darkness, so I couldn’t tell if he was blushing. I hoped he was.
“All right. God, you’re gonna laugh.”
“I won’t. I swear.”
“You’re practically laughing now!”
“No, I’m not.” I bit the inside of my mouth. “Okay? No laughter.”
He sighed. “Okay. I was with a prostitute.”
I bit my lip hard. Finally, once the urge to laugh at passed, I murmured, “I hope you didn’t have to pay as much then as you did tonight.”
“See, I knew you would make a joke.”
“I’m not. I’m sorry.” I put my head on his chest. I didn’t know why it mattered to me whether or not his feelings were hurt. Somehow it did.
“Besides, I didn’t pay for it,” he said. “Some of the guys in my club did. It was my sixteenth birthday, and they knew I was still a virgin. So they got a girl for me.”
“Oh. That’s different,” I said. “That’s sort of nice, in a way.” I was trying hard to make up for the way I had laughed.
“Yeah, I guess. Their hearts were in the right place.” He sighed heavily, like he was remembering it all. “But it wasn’t a good idea. At all.”
“Why not?”
“It was awkward and fumbly and I felt like she kept laughing at me. It’s like you see in movies or whatever—what do they call it? The hooker with a heart of gold?”
I smiled. “Yeah. That’s it.”
“There’s no such thing. She wasn’t Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, if you get what I mean. She was tired and jaded. She wanted to get it over with and get her money and get out. I felt worse after we were finished than I did before we started.”
“I’m sorry.” I knew it had to be tough for him to admit something like that to me. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who shared personal information like that. I thought about the man he was, and then about the boy he used to be. The boy on his sixteenth birthday who was so afraid of a prostitute. He must have been scared and embarrassed—sort of the way I was at first. But I was lucky. Eric had been more than good to me. I wondered if part of it wasn’t because of his uncomfortable experience.
“You said something about the guys in your club. What club?”
He stiffened beneath me. I’d hit a nerve. “I’m sorry if that was a bad question. You don’t have to answer.”
“Oh, no, no. It’s not that.” He sighed again, and ran his hand up and down my back almost idly. Like he wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing, just touching me. It felt nice. Natural.
“Is it, like, a secret club?”
I heard humor in his voice. “Secret club?”
“Yeah, you know. The way the Masons are very secretive. I don’t know. Oh, is it the mob?”
He laughed out loud. “No, it’s not the mob, or the Masons. It’s a motorcycle club.”
“Ohhhh.” It all made sense. He was obsessed with motorcycles, judging from the number of magazines in his living room and the way he had lit up like a Christmas tree when I asked him about his own bike.
“They just named me president today,” he confided.
“No way! Shut up, that’s really cool! Congratulations!”
He was quiet for a moment, then replied, “Thanks a lot.” I heard genuine gratitude in his voice.
“S
o what’s that mean? You head up the club. Do you guys have meetings and such?”
He stiffened again. When would I stop asking uncomfortable questions? “Sorry. You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“I just think it would be better if you didn’t know much about the club.” What he didn’t realize was that he’d already told me everything I needed to know, just from the way he answered my question. He was into some pretty bad things if he didn’t want to tell me about them. Who was I in bed with, anyway?
“Can you tell me the name of your club?”
“The Lightning Bolts.”
What a corny name, I thought. I wondered who named them. “That’s cool,” I said. “Have you been in it for long?”
“Since I was thirteen.”
“Thirteen! No kidding. Wow. They let people into the club at that age?”
He shook his head. My eyes had adjusted the dark pretty well by then, and I could see his profile and part of his face. I saw that his expression was light, relaxed. He didn’t mind my asking. “No, of course not. I couldn’t ride. Being able to ride is one of the first rules. The whole reason I was elected president was because Spike, our former prez, couldn’t ride anymore. His arthritis is too bad.”
“Oh, that’s a shame. So what did you do back then?”
“Errands. I did anything anybody wanted me to do. And they learned they could trust me, you know?”
“Very smart.” I snuggled against him. I was appreciating him more and more, it seemed, and the more I did, the closer I wanted to be.
“I wanted to be part of them,” he said. “That was all I wanted. I wanted to belong. They had such a brotherhood there. I wanted that. I wanted to know people had my back no matter what.” That, right there, told me everything I needed to know about Eric’s early life. Not that I needed to know. I wanted to know. He was a fascinating person, Eric Turner. A biker living in a filthy house with plenty of disposable cash. He was a deep thinker, too. Maybe not educated, but he was smart. Otherwise he wouldn’t be the president of his club.
“I didn’t have a ton of friends growing up,” I admitted, wanting to let him know I knew how he felt without coming out and telling him so. “I was the tallest girl in the class. Nerdy, too. Everybody picked on me. The boys especially.” I tightened my arms around him reflexively. “Maybe that’s why I was never with anybody before tonight.”
“Why? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Self-esteem.”
“Gotcha.” He ran a hand down the length of my body, from my shoulder to the ankle of the leg I slung over his hips. “I happen to like tall women with long legs.”
“Little boys are stupid, though.”
“You’re right. Sometimes big boys, too.”
I giggled, but the giggle was cut short when I felt Eric’s hand travel back up my leg, lingering at my hip before pulling me nearly on top of him. His mouth found mine in the darkness.
It seemed so right, so natural. So normal. Being in bed with a man, talking about life, kissing and having sex in between. Just a perfectly regular night.
Only, this wasn’t perfectly regular.
Even as I kissed him, even as I sighed and tilted my head back to allow his mouth to roam my neck, I had second thoughts. We’d been at this all night. It wasn’t right. There couldn’t be anything between us, but with every word and every kiss I felt myself becoming more attached to him. That would never do, ever. We had no future.
But then his hand caressed the curve of my backside and I moaned, gasping for air. His fingers were like fire, setting me ablaze with every touch. My body writhed on top of his without my meaning it to, because that was what felt right. I needed him again. And I would again and again if he didn’t stop touching me and teasing me the way he did.
His hand cupped my breast and squeezed gently before he lifted the nipple to his waiting mouth. I cried out, holding his head in place, wishing I had the guts to beg for more. I was still too shy to ask for what I wanted, and I needed him to understand what I wanted without my saying it. He seemed to, since he sucked harder the louder I cried out.
I had to. I needed him. I let him roll me over onto my back and I opened my legs to him. He slid inside without warning, and I cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure when he entered me. It was still too new to it, and this was the third time that night. I was sore and tight, and he was so big.
But the pain went away ever faster then than it had before, and soon I was clutching him as hard as I would clutch a life raft in a stormy sea. He rocked me slowly, sweetly. It was almost agony the way the pleasure built, driving me crazy. Every time he filled me I gave a little gasping cry. I couldn’t believe it felt so good.
Then he started grinding his hips, and I nearly screamed with pleasure. He hit a certain spot in me with every grind just perfectly. I bit down on his shoulder, moving with him. “Yes…yes…” I whispered, trying to get the courage to tell him how good it felt.
“You like that?” he grunted, grinding into me again.
“Uh-huh,” I whimpered.
“Yeah? When I do this?” Another grinding thrust, another whimper from me.
“Tell me how you love it,” he ordered. “Tell me you love it when I’m inside you.”
“I…I love it when you’re…inside me!” I gasped, throwing my head back and tensing all over as another climax threatened to wipe me out completely. He went harder, faster, pumping in and out.
“Tell me you love it! Tell me you want to come!”
“I wanna come!” I screamed, then shuddered as I did come. I held him, arms and legs wrapped around him, and shuddered again and again as he rode me in a blinding flurry of thrusts until he stiffened and groaned, then collapsed against me.
God. He was so big, so massive under my hands, inside me. I ran my hands all over his back and shoulders, kissing his neck. Reveling in the bliss he brought me. I wanted to hold onto him forever, to hold onto this moment together forever. I had never understood passion before. I knew it when he took me and unleashed it in me.
He raised himself up on his arms, allowing me to breathe freely again. I didn’t know it would be so hard bearing a man’s weight like that, but then again he was a big man, all muscle. I wanted nothing more than to wrap myself around him and stay that way all night. I closed my eyes, just about snuggle up against him again.
Then my eyes flew open. What the hell was I doing? I was making love, that’s what I was doing. I didn’t have much experience, but that was what we were doing. Cuddling, kissing, telling stories, making love. Oh, my God, I thought. This isn’t right at all. How did I let myself go so far?
I had to get out of there, and fast.
I sat up, looking around the room. It was nearly pitch dark. That didn’t help when I needed to find my all-black clothing. I leaned over the edge of the bed to find my underwear.
“What’s up?” he asked, tracing a line down the center of my back from neck to tailbone. I shivered in pleasure, but stayed strong. I couldn’t give in to him again. I stood up.
“I have to go back to the warehouse.”
He frowned. “That’s where you’re going? At this time of night? What are you, crazy?”
I turned away from him, reminding myself this was just a business deal. Nothing more. I didn’t need to look at him again or do anything with him again. We were two ships passing in the night. It was a profitable arrangement, but still just an arrangement.
“That’s where my money is.” I slipped into my panties, then searched around in the dark for my bra.
I was stunned to hear his laughter in the darkness. “Are you serious?”
“Why not? That was where I was told I could get it.”
“So that’s all you can think about right now? The money?”
I found my bra and put it on. “What else? Eric, you know why I did this. I never lied to you.”
“No, of course. And I understand that. I just don’t see where the fire is. Why do you have to get
up in the middle of the night and leave like this? You know who does that?”
I stopped what I was doing and turned to him. “You’d better not say what I think you’re going to say.”
“Why not? Does it hit a little too close to home? Being called a whore?”
My hands clenched, my nails digging into my palms. “How dare you. What, is your pride hurt because I don’t want to lay here and cuddle with you all night long? Which of us is the man, and which is the woman?”