Drifter

by Janine Infante Bosco

  I bite the inside of my cheek and watch him glare at the pool table. I was a no holds barred type of woman—if I was curious about something I asked questions. One might argue that I asked too many questions and even call me a pain in the ass. But I also knew when to push and when to pull back and everything about Stryker’s demeanor told me to pause. He didn’t want to be discovered and I shouldn’t care enough to ask. We were just two strangers playing pool—my nipples didn’t get that memo though and continued to beckon for Stryker’s attention. They didn’t care we just met—they were begging to be discovered.

  He averts his eyes back to mine.

  “You going to seal the deal or throw the game?”

  Snapping out of my Stryker induced coma, I walk around the table, draw in a deep breath as I lean over and prepare to fire the winning shot. I can feel his eyes burn into me from behind as my stick kisses the ball. I turn around to meet his gaze, watch intently as he shoves his hands into his pocket and glances over my shoulder at the table. Cheers implode around us as and I figure it’s because I’ve won yet another game.

  “I won,” I say, taking my blazer off the back of the chair before stepping toward him.

  “You missed,” he points out, licking his lips and grabbing his stick. Eyes wide, I spin around and see my ball missed its target. Without another word from Stryker, I watch as he leans over the table and delivers the winning shot.

  “Time to collect,” he says cockily.

  Dumbfounded I stare at the empty table.

  I lost.

  “That’s my man,” his friend says, jarring me away from my shocked state. He slaps his leather jacket against his chest and forces Stryker to take it back. “Bro, that might be the quickest grand I ever made. It’s fucking good to have you home.”

  Keeping his eyes pinned to mine, Stryker doesn’t acknowledge his friend who in turn looks over at me and smiles mischievously at me.

  I’m Linc,” he introduces himself. Stryker takes that as his cue, spreading his arm wide in front of Linc, blocking him from advancing any further.

  “Get lost,” he growls as he steps in front of Linc and cocks his head to the side. Still reeling from the loss, blocking out the taunting of my co-workers I continue to hold Stryker’s gaze. I watch as he cocks his head to the side and lets his eyes slowly travel the length of me. He nods as if he’s made a decision and then he beckons me with the crook of his finger.

  “Time to collect,” he says matter-of-factly.

  “We didn’t bet anything,” I counter, straightening my shoulders as I mimic him and let my gaze wander the length of him. Jesus.

  “I tell you what, how about I buy you a drink and then I’ll give you a ride.”

  I stare at him, raising an eyebrow as I laugh at him.

  “Isn’t that line overused? I bet every biker once in their lifetime has offered a woman a ‘ride’ on the back of their bike. You strike me as a guy who can do better than that.”

  “Touché,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “But I wasn’t referring to my bike,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at his friend. “Give me a minute and I’ll try to muster up another line,” he turns his back to me and closes in on his friend. With his back facing me I take the opportunity to check out his ass—damn, it’s as perfect as the rest of him. I lift my eyes when I hear Linc laugh and our eyes meet as he waves at me before turning back to Stryker.

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Linc calls, turning around and making his way through the crowd.

  “It was nice to meet you,” I call out as Stryker spins around and casually closes the distance between us. His hip brushes against mine as he angles his head to the side and his eyes latch onto mine.

  “Fuck lines,” he growls.

  I swallow, holding my composure as I square my shoulders back and raise an eyebrow.

  “I’ll give you honesty because my truth is better than any fucking line you’ve probably heard before.”

  Involuntarily my tongue glides across my lips as I watch him reach behind him and turn the baseball cap around so that the rim shadows his eyes. His eyes are darker, feral even, as they narrow and he steps closer. I can feel his hot breath against my wet lips.

  “Truth is, I want to take you home, Gina. I want to take you home and whisper dirty things into your ear. Filthy fucking things,” he clarifies, running the tip of his index finger down my bare arm.

  And just like that my early suspicions became confirmed—I was so fucking out of my league. But hell, I wasn’t about to let that stop me.

  “What’s your truth, Gina?”

  “I knew you could do better,” I said as I reached for the dog tags around his neck, yanking them as I pulled him closer.

  “Truth is, I like dirty,” I whisper, challenging him with not just my words but my eyes.

  “Looks like we both won tonight,” he replies, grabbing my hand. “Time for that ride, dirty girl.”

  Chapter Five

  That fucking skirt she’s wearing hugs her curves, leaving little to the imagination, and while the view is fucking amazing, she couldn’t be dressed any worse for the ride on the back of my bike. She knew it too and before she followed me out the front door of the swanky steakhouse, she sashayed those hips of hers to the bar. She asked the bartender for a steak knife, handed it to me and asked me to do what every motherfucker in the joint wanted to do—cut the skirt. I traded the serrated blade of the steak knife for the sharp blade I kept in my back pocket and sliced through the stitch behind her knees, extending the slit up the back of the skirt so she could straddle my bike. I’d tear the fucking thing off when it came time for her to straddle me, and just for kicks, maybe I’d cut it off her because fuck me, cutting through the stitching of her skirt had me hard as a rock.

  It took every ounce of control I could muster not to let my hands travel under that skirt and sink my fingers deep into her ass cheeks. Instead, I kept my hands on her hips, spun her around and stared up into her eyes. They might be my favorite part of her. After spending most of my time with her fighting not to take in every inch of her body, allowing myself only glimpses so I wouldn’t be distracted by her curves, I became pretty fucking hooked on those eyes. They were a bewitching shade of green.

  So fucking rare.

  So fucking unique.

  So damn pretty.

  They had the power to put me in a trance just like her hips that swayed back and forth like a pendulum.

  Fuck—everything about her made me want to forget who I am and learn who she is.

  The roar of my engine purrs, distracting me from her perfect face and I see the parking attendant pull my bike up in front of us. I hand him the ticket, pay the fee and turn around to Gina, watching as she bites down on her plump bottom lip and assesses my Harley.

  Throwing a leg over my bike, I grab the helmet dangling off one of the handlebars and offer it to her.

  “Still want that ride?” I ask when she doesn’t take the helmet and continues to stare at the bike. I don’t see any hesitation when her eyes lock with mine and a smile spreads across her sensual mouth—a mouth made for a man to dream of when he’s lonely.

  “You bet your ass I do,” she says, closing the distance between us as she braces her hand on my shoulder and straddles the bike. She fits the helmet to her head and adjusts the chin strap as I glance down at her five-inch spiked heels and shake my head. She didn’t belong on the back of a motorcycle, she belonged sprawled out on leather seats in the back of a limo with the divider rolled up and me between her legs.

  We were night and day. She was beauty and class and I was nothing, a shell of a man left broken and tormented from war, fresh out of prison, an outlaw—yet, here we were and neither of us seemed to give a fuck.

  “Put your feet on the pegs and keep your leg off the pipes,” I instruct, taking both of her hands and wrapping them around my middle. She leans into me, her breasts press against the leather on my back as her f
ists grip the ends of my jacket and she holds on for dear life.

  “Relax,” I call over my shoulder, placing one of my hands on her knee, giving it a squeeze. “I’ve got you.”

  At least for tonight I did.

  Tonight I was responsible for her.

  Tonight I was responsible for her pleasure.

  “Four fifty-three Carroll Street,” she whispers her address into my ear. “Do you know how to get there?”

  “Carroll Gardens? Yeah, I know where I’m going,” I tell her, throwing up the kickstand. The address she gives me is five minutes away from the Satan’s Knights clubhouse. “You ready?”

  Her fingers tighten around my jacket and she leans even closer against my back.

  “Ready,” she calls.

  She wasn’t ready, and neither was I.

  Not for the ride I was about to take her on or the one she was about to take me on.

  We were two unsuspecting strangers looking for a good time, an easy fuck, but the nagging in the pit of my gut told me this was more than a gamble and a win, more than just a fuck. This shit was the type of thing that takes your world and flips it upside down. Gina wasn’t the girl you turned to for a quick roll in-between the sheets—nah, it was obvious she was the girl that made you do the shit you never dreamed of doing. As I drove to her apartment, her breath against my ear, her tits pressed against my back, I wondered if one night would be enough to satisfy me. She’s the girl a guy like me stays far away from.

  I swear it’s her fucking eyes—they draw you in and the rest of the world fades away.

  Or maybe it’s her confidence that’s so fucking refreshing in a world filled with whiney bitches who think the world owes them a favor.

  It’s probably the fact I’ve been locked up, and like Wolf so bluntly put it, I’ve been surrounded by nothing but dick for months. Yeah, that’s probably it.

  Right.

  It’s definitely her fucking eyes.

  And that round, wide ass I want to sink my teeth in is just an added bonus.

  Welcome home, Stryker.

  There is traffic entering the tunnel so I slow down and glance down at her hands on my chest before talking over my shoulder.

  “You good?”

  She pries her fingers from my jacket and gives me a thumbs up before the traffic eases. I close my hand around hers, making her hold onto me again—trying to convince myself it’s for her safety and not because I like the way her hands feel on my body or how I’m picturing them all over me—every fucking inch of me.

  We take ten minutes from the time we get out of the tunnel and pay the toll to the time we pull up in front of the address she gave me. I pull my bike onto the curb in front of the aging brownstone, drop the kickstand and kill the engine. Her arms loosen around me and take purchase on my shoulders as she eases off the bike. The distinct sound of fabric tearing rips through the air and has me turning around. She pulls her leg over the seat, deepening the makeshift slit we made in her skirt until it parts right under the curve of her ass.

  “I guess I can kiss this skirt goodbye,” she jokes, removing the helmet from her head.

  I stare at her as she shakes out miles of black hair, closing my hands around the handlebars again so I don’t reach out and run my fingers through it—pull on it and force her head back as my teeth mark her neck.

  I draw in a deep breath before releasing my death grip on my bike and throw a leg over the seat. I look over her shoulder at the three story building and then back at her.

  “Awful big place for one person,” I comment.

  “It’s actually a three family. I rent the apartment on the top floor,” she says, tugging her skirt down. “You ready for the grand tour?” she asks suggestively as my gaze works her over.

  “After you,” I say, dismounting from my bike and tipping my chin toward the stoop. She’s about to turn around when I reach into my saddlebag and grab her purse I had stuffed in there and hear her groan.

  “I forgot my briefcase,” she hisses, taking her purse and fetching her keys.

  “Those men—the suits, weren’t they your co-workers?” I ask as I follow her toward the house.

  “Yes and right about now they’re probably sabotaging everything inside, including the deal I closed tonight.”

  The slit in her skirt inches higher as she climbs the stairs and because I’m a dick—I cock my head to the side and stare at the globes of her ass and the G-string tucked in between.

  She turns around as she opens the front door and I smirk at her.

  “Glad you like the view,” she comments, sarcasm dripping on every word.

  “Pretty fucking spectacular view,” I admit as she opens the door and holds it for me. “I’ll call one of my guys to grab your briefcase if you want. They won’t fuck with your shit and will rough up anyone who tries to,” I offer as we make our way up the two flights of stairs to her apartment.

  She turns around, raising an eyebrow as she stares at me.

  “That means you’ll have to deliver me my briefcase,” she baits as she draws her bottom lip between her teeth.

  Fucking sexy as hell.

  “Yeah, so?” I reply, reaching into my back pocket for my phone. I quickly text Linc to grab her briefcase and bring it to the clubhouse. I feel the weight of her gaze as I stare at the phone waiting for my brother to reply, but he’s probably too busy turning one dollar into ten.

  “So, that means no clean break once we’re done with one another. It means you will see this face again,” she reminds me, waving her hand in front of her face.

  I slip the phone into my pocket and take two steps, closing the distance between us, forcing her back against the door as I brace one hand over her head.

  She lets out a short gasp as my body leans into hers and I’m sure she can feel my cock press against her stomach.

  “Not such a hardship.” I pause, bringing down one hand to touch her cheek. The pad of my thumb draws soft circles along her chin, inching upward to trace her lower lip. “It’s not a face I’m likely to forget anyway but if you’re not comfortable facing me after what’s about to go down between us then I’ll leave your bag on your doorstep and hang onto the memory of your pretty face…” My voice trails off as I run my thumb across her lip. “And all the expressions I’m going to pull from you.”

  I pinch her lip in between my index finger and thumb and let out a hiss.

  “There you go again,” she croaks as she swallows. “Giving me your bedroom voice.”

  “Open the door and I’ll show you what I’ve already told you. There’s no voice, no promise, just me and you. Words aren’t required when your body does the talking,” I add, dropping my hand to my side as I continue to keep the other braced against the door. Her tongue sneaks out of her mouth and traces her lips as I push off the door and take a step backward, nodding toward the door knob. “Go on.”

  She closes her mouth and I watch her neck as she swallows, keeping her eyes on me for a moment.

  Those fucking eyes.

  Rare and unique.

  So fucking pretty.

  She opens the door, leaving the key in the lock and turns around abruptly to face me again.

  “My favorite color is red. I am addicted to skittles and I think taking long walks on the beach is a bunch of bullshit. I’m a stockbroker. I got my license three years ago and I work with a bunch of assholes who think I don’t belong in their firm. I lived in Italy for most of my teenage years after my father was deported. After my father died, we came back to the United States and then my mother died shortly after. I have a brother…but he’s…well, he’s not around much. I don’t have many girlfriends mainly because I can’t stand girls. I have a few cousins I used to be close to but other than that I don’t mind being by myself. I’m a good time, just ask me, myself and I—they’ll vouch for me.” She takes a deep breath before pointing her finger at me. “Your turn.”

  I stare at her, narrowing m
y eyes in confusion as I try to recite her list in my head. She rolls her eyes and I stop in my tracks.

  “Just give me five facts. They don’t have to be personal. You can hang onto your mystery man persona. What’s your favorite color?”

  “Black.”

  “Siblings?”

  “No.”

  “Parents?”

  “My mother lives in Albany.”

  She opens her mouth but I shake my head immediately shutting down the questions undoubtedly on the tip of her tongue.

  “I don’t talk about my old man,” I answer, throwing her a bone. “I’m more of a Starburst kind of guy and I don’t do walks on the beach. I’ve seen enough sand to last a lifetime.”

  “Fair enough,” she says, stepping toward me. “Now we’re not really strangers are we?”

  “Guess not,” I say as my feet move simultaneously with hers.

  Freezing in place, I stare at her quietly for a moment before shaking my head slightly as she frowns. I can see the disappointment reflected in those eyes I can’t seem to get enough of and that’s when I close the distance between us and take her face into the palms of my hand.

  “No more words,” I growl, before slamming my mouth onto hers.

  Lightning.

  Right there between us.

  Chapter Six

  Hot and hungry.

  Starving really. Both of us desperate to consume the other and the tug of war our mouths were playing wouldn’t suffice. It had to be everything—all or nothing, and even then I wasn’t sure I’d get my fill of the stranger loving on my body.

  But we weren’t really strangers were we? Not that it mattered much, asking him those few questions and offering some facts about myself was just a ploy to ease my conscience. I knew we’d end up like this; I knew before he told me his favorite color or his preference in candy.

  From the first smirk he threw my way, I knew I would go home with him.

  Which says a lot because I’ve basically been celibate the last few months—I know, I know, my poor vagina. I don’t know why I chose him to break my dry spell. He was everything I wasn’t used to and everything I craved all at the same time. He was the type of guy that came around once in your lifetime. The guy who shakes things up and makes you wonder if the suit and tie guy is really what you’re after. He’s the guy who entices the bad girl buried beneath the class, the guy that makes that girl want to come out and play.