Silver and Bold

by Amber Burns

  “I like that,” Enya whispered with a smile. Their gaze lingered with silence for a few moments before Enya continued. “That leaves the future.”

  “Surprisingly I don’t have quite the fleshed out plan that you do. Don’t tell the board though, they might die from heart attacks,” Thomas paused for a laugh that didn’t come. “Umm.. so, I don’t exactly know how the future will turn out yet. All I know is I want you to be part of it.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Me too.”

  The couple sat in the coffee shop, their gazes nearly transfixed on the other as they sipped their coffee. There wasn’t a need for words, only each other’s company. The world around them seemed to be a blur, the noise and bustle of the coffee shop non-existent as they drank in each other. They both knew the road ahead was going to be long, bumpy and arduous. Enya was preparing to start a new business, a new life while Thomas had to find himself and take care of the messy politics and red tape of his own company. Soon Thomas took the last sip of his coffee and eyed the empty drink.

  “So,” he started. “That empty shop is two doors up?”

  “Yep! And it’s even bigger than my old place. I can offer nearly twice the selection.”

  “That sounds great. Can we go and see it?”

  “Only if you promise not to try and buy it when we get there,” she warned with a fake glare.

  Thomas chuckled. “I’ll try to restrain myself.”

  Thomas L. Silversson, billionaire and most eligible bachelor in New York held the door open for Enya as they exited the coffee shop and stepped back into the busy streets. The pair walked slowly up the street, chatting stealing glances at one another as they approached the future site of Enya’s “Yum & Fun.”

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  Bad Boy Confessions – The Biker and the Ballerina

  By Amber Burns

  Published by Scarlet Lantern Publishing

  Copyright © 2017 by Amber Burns

  & Scarlet Lantern Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language.

  All characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  1

  “A fucking ballerina? Man, what’s wrong with you?” Dave ‘Rage’ Carter said as he slid out from under the car he was repairing. He couldn’t believe his ears and he looked at his best friend’s face, expecting a smile. Maybe this whole ballerina thing was a joke, in which case Stalk would be now laughing his ass off. No such laughter came, though.

  “Oh, don’t be such a looser. Just one night for the sake of old friendship,” Stalk pleaded and even kicked Rage in the side to make his point. Yeah, Rage could absolutely put his friend’s sanity at question in this moment.

  “A ballerina…” Rage muttered again, and the word already tasted quite bitter on his tongue.

  “In fact – two. She’s bringing a friend, that’s why I need your backup.”

  “Great,” Rage though to himself. “So now I’d have to deal with two of those creatures.”

  “You know, those pretty ballerinas break quite easily. You cause her to pull a muscle and you’ll have to sell your horse to pay the charges.”

  Yes, Rage totally meant to scare his friend, and probably it worked. Stalk turned and glanced at his ‘horse’ – the black shiny Harley parked in line with all the other bikes. Thomas ‘Stalker’ Williams was no different from any other biker in the world – just threaten him that his actions might cause loss of his bike, and he’ll back away. Immediately. Well, most of the time. This was not one such time.

  “Dude, I’m serious. This chick is absolutely gorgeous. And she was so desperate to get a wild ride. You know that irresistible pleasure when a good girl opens her mouth and begs you to do all the bad things to her…”

  Rage smirked at his friend. Stalk had a thing for good girls, and ballerinas were the epitome of goodness. Rage, however, did not share that fascination. He had several unbreakable rules in his life. Staying clear of good girls was one of those. Bad girls were a totally different matter – easy to get and easy to forget. What else would a true biker need for complete happiness?

  “Help your bro, man. I’ll owe you big time.” Stalk was practically begging. Which rage found quite amusing. “What am I gonna do with the two of them on my own?”

  “Bang them raw?” Rage cocked his brow and regarded his friend as if it was the most natural solution in the given situation.

  “A threesome!” Stalk’s face lit with home, but he quickly discarded the idea. “Nah, can’t fit both on the back of my bike… despite how tiny as ballerinas are…”

  Rage sighed. His friend had not gotten his name without a good reason. The guy could annoy someone to death with only his pleas. Rage figured it was easier to give him his wish. He would charge him double next time. He sighed loudly.

  “Fine! I’ll come with you and show you what to do with two chicks.”

  2

  Rage parked his bike in front of the bar, where they were supposed to meet the ballerinas at 7:58 sharp. He enjoyed letting the motor roar like a raging beast one last time before killing it and heading inside. He was quite sure the rest of the evening was going to be very civilized and polite. It was not something Rage was looking forward to.

  To make sure the pretty good girls were not confused about what they had gotten themselves into, he had decided to wear his club leather vest with “Sworn Demons” logo on the back over a sleeveless shirt. The lack of sleeves also showed off the tribal tattoos decorating both arms and his two identical dragons blazing with fire on his forearms. Rage scanned the bar for his friend; Stalk was nowhere to be found.

  Stalk arrived at 7:59. It was a habit both of them developed during their military years. Neither of them was surprised, though, when the ladies let them wait for good 15 minutes until they showed up.

  “There,” Stalk elbowed his friend to tear Rage’s attention off the pretty bartender, who had been sending him tempting smiles from the moment they had gotten in. “The redhead is Nastia. The brunette is all yours.”

  Rage sighed and turned his head, mentally preparing himself to be a wingman and nothing more. However, Rage found something he wasn’t expecting. His eyes landed on the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. Rage never believed in cupid’s fucking hearts and unicorns. Right now, though, he was quite sure those were sparkling in the air around him and he was staring at the most angelic face that was ever born to walk on this damned planet.

  “Dude, you will scare them away if you keep on staring like that,” he heard Stalk’s voice and reigned in his lingering stare.

  Nastia – the so desperate redhead hungry for adventures - was already launching herself on Stalk. Dave wondered what had happened to her to trigger that need. She looked nothing like a girl who would get involved with ex-military bikers. Rage shrugged, it was none of his business. He instead turned and focused his attention to the other ballerina.

  “Adel,” she said in such a soft voice, that Rage had to repeat it to make sure he had heard it correctly.

  “Adel… Beautiful name you have,” he said and he knew he was grinning like a lunatic.

  “Lame,” he almost heard Stalk’s mocking voice in his head.

  Rage shook his head, realizing the greeting had lingered on awkwardly long. “Oh.. um. I am Dave,” he finally said.

  “Oh,” a tiny surprised sound that escaped her mouth caused h
im another smile. “I thought all of you were supposed to have scary names.”

  “He does,” Stalk said, breaking away from his kiss to stick his nose into the conversation that was absolutely none of his concern. “He’s just jumping out his fucking skin to make an impression the pretty ballerina.”

  Stalk laughed and returned his attention to Nastia. Rage wanted to kick Stalk in the square in the crotch, but instead tried to place nice; or at least as much as he could. His goal for the night had just changed – he was going to do everything he could not to scare his new love away.

  “Rage, it’s Rage - if you like it more,” he looked into her dark green eyes. She had shimmering gold rings around the iris. It seemed that everything about his woman was so unique, and it simply took his breath away.

  As they ordered drinks and the first awkward moments of tension were gone, Rage decided he would try once again to start a conversation with his date. Stalk and Nastia were quite busy ogling one another right next to them, yet somehow completely ignoring the company they brought. Adel looked uncomfortable, fidgeting with her purse and glancing from corner to corner of the bar.

  “So, what brings you here?” He noticed her gaze on his tattoos as he spoke, and was not sure whether to be describe them or hide them in fear of scaring her away.

  “Nothing, except to make sure she doesn’t get into much more trouble than she is in already.” Adel looking into Rage’s eyes and he found a stubborn daring stare. Rage’s thoughts were clouded with emotion. He wanted to stare into those eyes forever; and her pink lips that looked soft and inviting. Rage pushed the thought away. She was not a woman to appreciate such sudden assault. If he was interested in her, Dave had to play carefully and win her over. It was not his usual MO, but Rage was up for the challenge.

  “Stalk is a good guy. He will not hurt her,” he said, and his own words made him worry as well.

  “A man, whose name is Stalker? I’m sure our ideas of ‘not getting hurt’ are quite different,” she said. And there it was again – her eyes – deep and meaningful. He wanted, needed, to understand them.

  Rage glanced over to Nastia and Stalk before bringing his gaze back to Adel. “She looks like a big girl and knows what she wants.”

  Sometimes Rage thought that pretty women just used men like him and Stalk. They needed a tough toy to play for a night and then discard as a little wild adventure. Their “bad boy” lovers were never to be spoken about, never to be repeated. There was something about their tattoos and beards and wild hair. None of them would even care to ask what those permanent marks on the body symbolized, what memories stood behind them. Why they allowed the ink to be etched into their skins. Rage sighed at the though. While Nastia certainly seemed like one of those girls, Adel seemed to be the opposite; completely disinterested in the biker sitting across from her.

  “Does she? She’s just been though a painful breakup and is still stupid enough that this one is going to be her ‘one-night-stand turn into miracle’ fairy tale. So tell again why I don’t have to worry.”

  Those words haunted Dave as they finished their drinks and headed towards their bikes for a ride. Nastia cheerfully hopped on Stalk’s bike and wrapped her arms around his waist. Rage saw her place a playful kiss on his friend’s neck. Yeh, no doubt she was going to end up hurt, if she expected anything other than one hot-as-hell night from this guy.

  Adel hesitated for a moment looking at her date’s bike with huge eyes.

  “You’re perfectly safe, I promise,” he whispered into her ear. Rage’s heart raced when he saw how her body trembled at his invasion into her personal space.

  As wind played on his chest and her delicate arms hugging his waste, Rage could think about nothing else but his desire to have this woman. And not just have her as a one night stand. He wanted to become a part of her life, to one day earn her trust and hopefully even her hear. He almost barked at his own pathetic thoughts. He never wanted to be a fucking knight, but right now, all he wanted was to be worth her time.

  After almost an hour of riding around the town, they parked at a campsite, which was one of their favorite hangout spots. They lay on the grass and talked for another hour or maybe two. Rage felt Adel feeling more and more comfortable around him. He loved the way his name sounded on her lips. He loved to hear her tell about the ballet company she danced in, about her dream to be a prima in one of New York based ballet companies. These were never topics Rage dreamed he’d be interested in, but from Adel’s lips they were the most enthralling words he had ever heard.

  “I have scarified too much to achieve that dream. Did you ever want anything that much, Dave?” She asked.

  Rage turned and looked at Adel’s face. He wanted to tell her “Yes. Yes, you… right now. I want you that much and more.” But he knew such a display would only scare her away.

  He once wanted to be an accountant, then a soldier. Four years in Navy SEALs made sure he would never fit into office working environment again. Now, Dave had learned to live without plans and expectations. His club was his home and family. He was happy doing bookkeeping for club business. It wasn’t glamorous but it was enough to make a living doing what he loved. But this night had awoken a new ambition in his heart – he wanted to be loved by this woman curled up next to him – he wanted it so much that he feared his own desire.

  3

  It was well after 3 in the morning, when Stalk and Nastia announced that they were leaving the camp site. Rage had used a moment alone with his best friend to ask how much he knew about Nastia’s expectations and whether he was interested in anything more than just spending a night with her.

  “Are you kidding me, man? The girl is hot as hell, I just want to do her raw – that’s all. No strings attached. I get on my bike and leave her bed for good next morning.”

  Stalked sounded so surprised at his question, as if Dave had just landed from the moon and had no idea about life on this planet. Perhaps these strange feelings storming inside him from the very first moment he laid eyes on Adel had made him into a true lunatic, because no matter what his best friend had planned for tonight, he was going to kill his party plans. He was not even sure whether it was his desire to prevent Nastia from the disappointment of finding Stalk gone for good next morning, when she opened her eyes. Or was it his desire to please Adel, to make her sure he could stand up and protect her friend if needed. Rage did not give it much thought, but he jumped to his feet and announced he was going to take Nastia hope.

  “You both had too much alcohol, I am not letting you ride the bike in this state,” he said.

  “Dude, are you out of your mind? We. Have. Plans.” Stalk said while poking at his friend’s chest with his leather gloved finger. His eyes were wide and shooting daggers at him. “What do you think you are doing?” he mouthed to him, making sure the girls could not hear him.

  Rage ignored his friend and turned to the women.

  “Nastia, think for a moment, if you get on this dude’s bike, and get into an accident tonight, you will never ever be able to dance again. Is he worth that?” He looked into her wide blue eyes. Surprise and disappointment lingered there, but eventually she gave way to reason.

  “I should go home, then,” she spoke as her friend wrapped her arms around her protectively and kissed her temple.

  “You’ll feel much better tomorrow, darling,” Adel told her.

  Rage knew Stalk was going to make him pay dearly for this stunt, but he didn’t care. He know if Stalk fucked and bailed on Nastia he would never see Adel again.

  “Cock block!” Muttered Stalk as he got to his own bike and left. The jerk did not even care to lie to the girl that he would maybe call her back someday. Maybe that was for the best.

  Once Nastia was home, Rage offered Adel taking her home as well.

  “I wouldn’t mind to talk some more… if you are up for it, of course,” she suggested in such a matter-of-fact tone that sounded as if they knew each other for ages.

  Rage smiled widely
at the invitation.

  “I’d love to,” he said while trying to hide some of the exuberance from his voice.

  “Tell me about your tattoos. Why did you choose dragons?” She traced his tattoo with a delicate finger, and Rage shivered. His body was on fire. Every part of him needed her more than he would ever need air. She kept on surprising him. She wanted to know him. She cared to hear the story about his tattoos. Could this night get any better?

  It could, and it did.

  “Do you want me, Dave?” She asked right before he was about to hand her the helmet to take her home on his bike.

  For a moment Rage considered not pushing his luck and asking for a second date instead of taking her right then and there. He discarded the thought. Since when did he play safe? And there was no guarantee she wouldn’t change her mind next morning and never want to see him again.