Jasper: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Baby Romance

by Vivian Gray

  Finally, alone and grappling with the mess my life had become, I collapsed in a heap on the floor and cried.

  Chapter Six

  Jasper

  I couldn’t sleep. I’d left the restaurant right after Marin, driven home, and crawled into bed. It had been a long day. Yet, sleep wouldn’t come. It didn’t make any sense. I’d had sex with plenty of women more attractive than Marin. Some were models and actresses, others just pretty faces I ran into at parties or clubs. And even after the wildest of nights, I had always been able to fall asleep.

  But now, I couldn’t un-see Marin’s pale face, the flush that brushed across her cheekbones. I couldn’t forget the feel of her smooth thighs on my fingertips. She’d smelled like grease, the way all the waitresses did, but there was something else, too. As I’d stripped her clothes off, a distinctive sweetness rose from her feverish skin. I wanted to bath in it.

  I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. This woman was supposed to be a cover. I couldn’t allow myself to actually become involved with her. Then, an idea struck. I knew why I couldn’t get Marin out of my mind.

  We hadn’t slept together.

  Of course. I’d never seen a woman in as few clothes as I’d seen Marin in and not had sex with her. My insomnia wasn’t brought on by Marin but by commonplace horniness. Commonplace for other men anyway. I took women to bed with enough regularity that rarely did that particular emotion have time to build.

  The solution, then, was simple. I had to have Marin. Once I did, she’d join the ranks of the scores of other women who’d had the privilege of lying between my sheets.

  ***

  The next morning, finding Marin’s address was simple enough – just a quick flip through the employee records. And enough women had used me for my wealth and lavish lifestyle, that I’d become a near-expert in dress sizes.

  I called Veronica, a personal friend who happened to be a damn fine designer, and had her send something black and lacy to Marin, courtesy of Jasper Black. I wanted the dress to match the lingerie Marin had worn the night before. Just the thought of it made me hard, and I knew the evening would be one to remember.

  The event itself was nothing to write home about. Just a local business owner’s gala – a place for people to make connections and eat shrimp. But mostly, they drank. By the end of the night, most everyone left the event completely sloshed. The copious amounts of alcohol were part of the reason why the mattress king’s wife found him with his hands very far up the skirt of the owner of several popular flower shops. It would be the perfect place to debut my new relationship with Marin, and the alcohol would certainly help to loosen her up.

  As I walked towards her apartment building, I pressed the “lock” button on my key fob twice just to be safe. Garbage overflowed from the trash cans lined up along the street, and unreadable graffiti marked every inched of the fence around her building. I rang the buzzer next to her apartment number, but the entire panel seemed to be broken, so I tried the door and realized it was unlocked. So much for safety.

  The gray-blue carpets that lined the hallways were only that color along the walls, where people rarely walked. The strip down the middle of the hallway had faded to a dirty brown. I only looked up to notice the overhead lighting because nearly all of the fluorescent bulbs were burnt-out or flickering. The entire building looked as though it could double as the set for a slasher film.

  Marin’s apartment was on the second floor – the elevator had a faded sign claiming it was out of order – and I knocked twice, hoping I hadn’t contracted some sort of flesh-eating bacteria simply by touching the door. It opened, but the woman standing in front of me was not Marin. She had dark black hair that hung to the middle of her back and a round face that made her look remarkably young.

  “Jasper.” My name fell out of her open mouth more like a reflex than a conscious thought.

  “Hi,” I said, trying to place the woman. Did I know her from somewhere? Or, worse yet, had I slept with her before and then completely forgotten? Unfortunately, that did happen from time to time. Always very awkward.

  She shook her head as though clearing away cobwebs and stepped aside. “Come in, obviously.”

  I took a step forward and then hesitated. “Marin does live here, right?”

  “Yes,” she said, an uncomfortable smile smearing across her face. “I’m her roommate, Kayla. I also work at Jasper’s Grill.”

  I could tell she was embarrassed that I hadn’t remembered her, so I smiled as if suddenly remembering. “Of course. I knew I recognized you.”

  Her smile brightened several watts, and I knew it had done the trick. The apartment was considerably nicer than the building would have lead me to believe. Bright pops of color offset the dark walls, and photographs and artwork made the place feel very homey. It looked like a college student’s apartment, but it was cute.

  “Can I get you anything?” Kayla asked, gesturing towards the small kitchen. “Water or... milk?” She laughed. “Sorry, we don’t have much else.”

  “No, I’m fine,” I said. I looked around the room and noticed a door to the side, a strip of light coming out from underneath it.

  Kayla must have noticed me looking. “I can get Marin for you.”

  She rushed past me and slipped through the door. I tried to peek in through the crack, but Kayla closed the door before I could see anything. Immediately, I heard muffled voices on the other side of the wall. Unable to resist, I moved closer.

  “Marin, what is your problem? He is so hot.”

  “There are more important things in life,” Marin said.

  Kayla laughed. “That’s what ugly people say to make themselves feel better.”

  “Tell him to go away.” Marin sighed. “Tell him I’m sick.”

  “You’re insane. Are you sure?” Kayla lowered her voice, but it still floated effortlessly through the paper-thin walls. “He’s wearing a suit that totally makes his package look enormous. Is that real or is it a sock?”

  “Kayla,” Marin warned.

  “God, you are no fun. You sleep with the hottest man I’ve ever seen, and you won’t even tell a girl whether he’s hung or not. So not fair.”

  “I promise to tell you if you get rid of him.”

  Marin’s words stung me, though I couldn’t say why. Of course she wouldn’t want to see me. It made sense, but I still couldn’t help but wish that she did. After sending her the dress that morning, I’d assumed I’d knock on the door, and she’d open it wearing the dress, the fabric clinging to her curves. She would still be distant, but my gesture would have warmed her towards me, and we’d have a great night. I hadn’t anticipated she would refuse to see me.

  Kayla came out of the room, a grimace on her face. “Unfortunately, Marin isn’t feeling well.”

  “Oh, she isn’t?” I asked, unable to resist raising one eyebrow.

  Kayla squirmed under my gaze. She nodded, though I could practically see beads of sweat gathering on her forehead. Within seconds, she relented, shoulders slouching forward. She put a hand to her mouth and whispered, “I’m not sure what her problem is. She can be kind of dramatic sometimes.”

  I didn’t know Marin well, but she didn’t strike me as the dramatic type. I also didn’t know Kayla well, but based on the way she kept looking at me, she struck me as the jealous type. Even though I’d overheard everything and knew Marin was lying to escape an evening with me, I would have respected Kayla a lot more if she’d stuck to her friend’s lie rather than throwing her under the bus.

  Without responding, I stepped around Kayla and knocked on Marin’s door.

  “Is he gone?” she asked, her voice a whisper just on the other side of the cheap door.

  “No, he isn’t,” I whispered back.

  She gasped, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Can I come in?” I asked, but I was already turning the handle.

  The door thudded in the frame, and Marin’s hands gripped the handle on the other side, keeping me ou
t.

  “I’m stronger than you are,” I said. “If I want in, I’ll get in.”

  Kayla mumbled something behind me about being ungrateful and then moved into the kitchen.

  “Just go away,” Marin said. I heard her lean back against the door and slide down to the floor.

  “Did you get the dress I sent?”

  A small pause. “No.”

  Liar. “How did it fit?”

  “Like a damn glove.” She sighed. “Are you going to go away?”

  “Not until you talk to me,” I said. And put the dress on and go to the event with me and have sex with me. I thought it was best to keep a lot of my thoughts to myself.

  Finally, the knob turned, and Marin opened the door. She had a blanket around her shoulders, but she opened it and let it fall on the floor. I’ve had very few moments in my life when I felt like a cartoon wolf at a burlesque show –tongue lolling out of my mouth, eyes turning into hearts and popping out of my head – but this moment was one of them.

  Marin had the dress on, and she was right. It fit her like the finest damned glove I’d ever seen. Black lace clung to her like a second skin, ruching across her torso and gathering on her hip. There was nothing under the lace, but it was a small enough pattern and expertly designed, so all of her sensitive areas were covered. What a shame. I wanted to rip it off her on the spot. Her hair was loose and draped down her back in thick, effortless waves.

  “You look astounding,” I said. I thought I heard a pan slam down on the counter particularly loud in the kitchen.

  Marin looked down at herself as if she were trying to decide if I was serious.

  “Are you ready to go?”

  She looked up at me, eyebrows drawn together. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  For someone who was trying to get rid of me, she sure looked ready to go out. I grabbed her hand and gently pulled her into the living room. “This dress is too nice to stay cooped up in your bedroom. We’re going out.” She began to shake her head, but I leaned forward until we were on the same level. “Remember our deal, sweetheart.”

  I heard the venom in my own voice, and I wished I didn’t have to use it, but it was effective.

  Marin’s expression went neutral. “I’ll grab my bag.”

  Kayla waved from the door as we left, and slammed it especially hard as we walked down the hallway. When we got outside to the car, I opened Marin’s door for her, and she slid inside without touching me or even glancing in my direction. The evening was off to a great start.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as we drove towards the heart of the city, skyscrapers towering over the interstate.

  “Business owner’s gala,” I said, changing lanes and speeding around a small Buick that was crawling down the road. “There will be some shoptalk and a lot of people shamelessly promoting their businesses, but there will also be lots of alcohol.”

  “Thank God.”

  “You don’t seem very excited,” I said. The reality was, thus far, not matching up with my expectations, and I was more than a little annoyed. “Do you plan to put on a happy face for the party?”

  Finally, Marin looked over at me, the disdain etched into every line of her face. “I’ll play my part if you promise to play yours. You are supposed to be my boyfriend, not my pimp. Try being a little less controlling.”

  I took the exit towards city center driving at least twenty over the speed limit, my frustration being released through my foot. “Deal.”

  Chapter Seven

  Marin

  I stood in the dimness along the edge of the room, finger-picking at the see-through material of my dress. As much as I wanted to hate it, I couldn’t. The dress was by far the most extravagant thing I’d ever owned, and despite the circumstances of the evening, I felt amazing. I’d seen more than a few wives direct their husband’s wandering eyes away from me. I’d also seen Jasper making his own eyes in my direction. I did my best not to take it personally.

  Jasper belonged to a class of people who found pleasure in possessing something other people wanted. That extended to his ridiculously expensive car, and now, to me. I was nothing more than an object to him, and I would do well to remember that. Even worse, I was a tool. He only wanted me because I would soften his image. If only I could tell someone about our arrangement so we could have a good laugh about the irony of Jasper blackmailing me into helping him with his public image.

  The gala was being held in the lobby of the fine arts museum. Endless white walls reached towards the skylight in the ceiling, priceless works of art dotted the space, going unnoticed by the party’s guests. A long neon-lit bar had been set up in front of a Manet, and I couldn’t help but think the entire event was a little sacrilegious. Especially since half of the guests were grinding up against one another on a light up, checkered dance floor.

  A hand on my exposed lower back made me jump. “I brought you a drink,” Jasper said, handing me a champagne flute.

  “How do I know you didn’t drug it?” I asked, grabbing the glass from him and tipping it back.

  “At the rate you’re tipping back drinks, I won’t need to drug you.”

  I’d had a few drinks, but I was nowhere close to drunk. Having a drink in my hand made me feel less nervous. Jasper had introduced me to a few people as his girlfriend as soon as we’d arrived, and suddenly I was being quizzed on how we’d met and what “our song” was. It was too much. I’d decided the night would be much easier to handle if I saw it all through a thin haze of alcohol. So far, I was right.

  “I’m fine,” I said, taking a few steps in a straight line to prove it.

  Suddenly, the glass was out of my hand and sitting on the table, and Jasper had his arm looped around me, pulling me towards the center of the room.

  “Hey,” I said, protesting slightly.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, still looking straight ahead at the dance floor ahead of us. “I thought you were walking towards the dance floor.”

  “Well, I wasn’t. You can let me go stand in the corner again,” I said, half-turning back to my hiding spot along the wall.

  Being a wallflower was really what I’d always been best at. I’d gone to winter formal my junior year of high school and been scarred ever since. My date ditched me for one of my best friends, and I spent the entire evening watching them rub their genitals together under the disco ball, trying not to cry.

  “My girlfriend would want to dance with me,” he said, a gentle reminder of the role I was supposed to be playing.

  I sighed. “Fine, but if you reel me in on your imaginary fishing line, I’m leaving.”

  We were standing in the middle of the room, and I felt countless pairs of eyes on us. The music had switched to a slow country song, and Jasper slid his arm behind my back and pulled me up against him. He smelled like firewood and cinnamon, and I resisted the urge to bury my face in his chest and take a deep breath.

  We swayed back and forth, his large hand wrapped around mine, his other hand gently pushing into my lower back, guiding me in the right direction.

  “This isn’t so bad, right?” he asked, whispering in my ear.

  A shiver ran down my spine, but I ignored it. “It’s bearable.”

  The truth was, Jasper was a spectacular dancer. He wasn’t showy the way some of the other men were, twirling their partners around as if they were rag dolls. He led with a dignified kind of ease that spoke to his confidence. Even though our relationship was entirely fake, I enjoyed the jealousy rolling off of the single women who lined the floor like spectators.

  “You know, I regret the way we met.”

  Jasper’s voice broke me out of my thoughts, and I looked up at him. That was a mistake. Under the party lights, his eyes looked like perfect pools I wanted to dive into. A shadow cut across his cheekbone, making him look even more chiseled than usual, and his suit was molded perfectly to his body. He reminded me of professional soccer players post-game – all the muscle and athleticism of an athlete with the w
ardrobe of a male model.

  What had he said? I looked down at our feet, and with his annoyingly symmetrical face out of sight, I remembered. “Yeah, witnessing a murder wasn’t high on my to-do list.”

  Jasper leaned in closer as if trying to block the sound of my voice with his body. “Perhaps we shouldn’t say things like that in public, sweetheart.”

  He squeezed me tighter to him, and I got the message. I nodded, a silent surrender.

  “I just meant,” he said, taking a deep breath as if the words pained him. “You seem nice, and I wish we could have met under different circumstances.”

  I wanted to believe him, partly because it would make pretending to be his girlfriend easier and partly because he looked so good saying it, but I knew I shouldn’t. I had no reason to trust Jasper Black, and he had every reason to try and deceive me. I didn’t know how to respond, but I was saved the trouble of thinking of a response by a tap on my shoulder.

  I turned to find an incredibly tall man towering over me, his mouth pulled back in a villainous smile. “May I cut in?”

  “Uhmm...” I turned back to Jasper, unsure what to do.

  Jasper’s mouth was set in a straight line. He looked like a guitar string that had been stretched too tight.

  “One song?” the man asked, tilting his head to the side.

  Jasper squeezed my hand tight, winked at me, and walked away. Though, I noticed he didn’t stray too far.

  The man spun me into his arms and danced as far away from Jasper as he could.

  “You are Jasper’s girlfriend?” the man asked, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

  Something about the man made me uncomfortable. Everything about him felt like a challenge. For whatever reason, he felt he had power over me, and I didn’t like it. I stepped away from him ever so slightly, putting more distance between our bodies.