by D. D. Prince
God. How many biker bunnies had he screwed in here? Was that silver loop earring still here or had the bunny that left it come back and claimed it since the day before?
I shook it off. I couldn’t ponder it.
The man I loved tried to kill himself because of addiction and all that came with it and my response? Fucking some biker man-whore for hours after getting wasted.
God, Pippa…
I needed to swear off partying and swear off men. For at least a little while, while I got my life together.
I crawled around finding my clothing. Underwear. Bra. Pants. Top. Okay. Good. I silently got into them and then, not letting myself look at him there sleeping, avoiding the urge to look back at that back, that sexy back, I reached for my bag and my coat and got into my shoes, then quietly twisted the knob, which wouldn’t move, so I then twisted the lock, then the knob again, and I slipped out into the hallway.
And then I came face to face with Scott, Deanna, and Bronto all in Scott’s room, the door open.
Shit. In my haste, I hadn’t listened at the door before opening it.
Deanna’s mouth dropped open. She was fully dressed, but Scott was looking half-asleep. She stood there with two take-out coffees in her hands, leaning against a dresser beside Scott, who stood holding a donut box. Bronto was in their open doorway with a donut in his hand, scowl on his face. The scowl was aimed at me.
I winced, waved, shut Spencer’s door slowly and did a super-fast walk of shame down the hallway and around the corner to the restroom. That walk of shame hurt, too. My God--- my thighs felt bruised.
Walk of shame. Ho boy. I’d been well-used the night before. And look at me.
Yep, upon seeing my reflection in the mirror it was very obvious that I’d been well-ridden. Bedhead, lips that still felt swollen, and was that… it was… bite marks on my throat. And a hickey. Shit.
“Look at you,” he’d said as his eyes had raked down my body. He looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
My face burned hot at the memory, with a belly flip-flop.
He probably had me out of his system now, anyway. Another notch in his bedpost.
I craned my neck and saw another hickey at my collar bone.
I think I gave him one, too. No, two. And he had bite marks in multiple places, including his right ass cheek, which I gave him after he’d done that to my ass, telling me it was bitable, and he couldn’t help it, had been wanting to bite it since that first morning when I was singing to the radio in the kitchen. We’d both laughed and fell off the bed at that point and then rolled around on the floor like sex-starved maniacs.
My face burned with shame.
Ugh. It was a three-hour frenzy of marking one another. Nails, teeth, tongues, groping, biting, squeezing, kissing, fucking.
I dropped my stuff on the counter, except for my phone, and went into a stall to pee.
What now? Move on. Yep, life goes on…
I glanced at my phone as I sat. 8:45 AM. Missed call from Jan and a text from her.
“He’s under psychiatric evaluation the next few days, supervised, and he’s okay. Just fyi. I won’t text you again. I know it’s not appropriate but because you knew and I had a long talk with Penny last night and she won’t accost you like that again. I’m very sorry and hope you know that she didn’t really want to hurt you. I am also attaching the note he left. I took a picture of it and think you should read it. I won’t bother you again.”
I could see the photo attached of a handwritten letter. I didn’t enlarge it. Nope. Not today. Maybe not ever. I had to be done with this shit.
I closed the screen and finished up using the washroom.
I heard someone come in as I flushed.
Deanna stood against the door, watching me come out of the middle of the three stalls.
“Uh… hey.” She folded her arms, not even trying to hide the huge smile on her face.
“Don’t,” I said, heading to the sink.
“Don’t?” she asked fake-innocently. I’d met Deanna a few years ago. She was a regular member of our group, single mom with notoriously bad taste in men (according to Deanna herself) but a heart of gold. Hopefully her losing streak with guys was over with Scott. Time would tell.
“Don’t ask. I got drunk. Really drunk. I’ve had a bad few days. Yesterday, Penny came into the salon attacking me because Joe tried to commit suicide. He’s in the hospital.”
Her smirk melted clean away.
“And Spencer was there for me and I got rip-roaring drunk and yes, I let him fuck me. I let him fuck me for three hours straight. Maybe three and a half.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“I gotta… I gotta…” I dried my hands and blew out a breath. “Can you give me a ride to my car?”
I found a ponytail holder in my bag and twisted my hair up into a knot, fastening it.
I had no appointments until 3:00 today. Thank God. Go home, maybe sleep another couple hours, shower, then go to the salon and get back to work, back to life. I decided that was a good plan.
It was time to move forward, move on from my ordeal with Joe. I still had court to deal with, looming like a brewing storm cloud.
“No prob,” Deanna said. “I came to surprise Scott with breakfast and morning sexy time, but I got time to drive you to your car. I don’t start work until eleven so there’s still time for nookie.”
“Thank you,” I breathed out relief. “Sorry to nookie-block you.”
“It’s all right,” she shrugged. “I won’t have three hours of it, but it usually don’t take that long…”
I rolled my eyes.
She snickered, and we headed out. I kept going as she stopped at Scott’s room to, presumably, tell him she’d be right back.
Through the kitchen, though, Bronto was studiously avoiding my face, washing dishes in the sink.
Deke sauntered in, a coffee cup to his lips. He gave me a wink.
My face burned red.
Deanna caught up to me.
“Mornin’ Deanna. How you doin’ Pippyshortstockings?”
“I’m a bit hungover, I think,” I admitted. The nickname was new. Was Deke waiting to use that until I spent the night with one of his sons, or did everyone get a nickname? Ella’s Dad, Rob, gave everyone nicknames, Ella had a different one every day, (he called me Yogi because I taught yoga) but I felt a little bit shy about Spencer’s dad giving me a nickname, which might suggest I might be around a lot.
“Been there,” he said, “More times than I can count.” He put his cup back to his lips, eyes sparkling with mischief. Eyes that were like Spencer’s, like Deacon’s. Deke Valentine was probably close to or maybe even over fifty, but even to my 23-year-old eyes, he still had it goin’ on.
“Gotta run, um, see ya,” I said.
“Hope so.” He winked. “Hope to see you a lot.”
Was that a show of approval from Spencer’s dad?
Ugh. I couldn’t correct him. That’d be like saying, ‘No niceties needed; I’m just a lil’ slut who was only out for some sex.’
Double ugh.
I laughed nervously, and me and Deanna headed for the door, seeing a few bikers sitting in the lounge area, drinking coffee and shooting the breeze. We waved to the general room as we left, but before we got to the bottom of the metal stairs, the stairs were creaking, shaking even. Someone was behind us, running.
“Uh oh,” Deanna said and moved to the side, plastering herself against the railing.
“Nope, not happening,” Spencer grunted, getting past her and to the bottom of the stairs with me. As my feet hit asphalt, he was there too, bending and grabbing me to throw me over his shoulder like a sack of flour, before I had a chance to say a word.
“What the fuck?” I screeched. He was climbing the stairs. He was bare-chested despite that it was gloomy and cold and rainy out. He had a pair of jeans on, not even all the way done up, and he was shoeless.
“No way you’re sneaking off agai
n outta my bed. Not happenin’.” He slapped my ass and then we were back inside the clubhouse lounge room.
“Spencer, put me down!” I demanded from over his shoulder.
“Oh, I will. I’ll put you down in my bed, Sunshine.”
Damn. He said that in front of everyone.
I caught sight of Bronto, from my upside-down position. He was standing there with his nostrils flaring, then we moved past Scott who was standing in the kitchen, past Spencer’s father, who was also in the kitchen with a flippin’ grin on his face, and then we passed Blow and his girlfriend Marlena, (who I’d met the night before) as they were coming down the hall toward the kitchen.
Seconds later, we were back in his room and his door slammed shut, was locked, and that’s when I was deposited onto Spencer’s unmade bed. His unmade bed that definitely smelled of sex.
“Spencer!” I hissed.
What sort of caveman demonstration was this?
“Nope.” He climbed up my body and pinned me. “You don’t get to leave like that. Sneaking out, acting like it didn’t happen. Not after last night, all that was last night. Did you even kiss me goodbye before you left my bed?”
All that was last night?
I glared at him, about to protest, but then his hands went into my hair and he was kissing me.
I was dizzy. I started kissing him back. My shirt was going up and off. His pants were undone, and I heard a crinkle.
“Wait, no, wait…”
“No?” He stopped and looked at me, questioningly.
I stared.
He waited.
Oh, fuck it. I grabbed the condom and ripped it open.
“Fuck yeah, Sunshine.” He rolled onto his back and pulled himself out of the jeans. I rolled that sticky condom on him myself, and got out of the bed, kicked off my shoes and dropped my own pants to the floor, and then I climbed on, yanking my undies to the side.
He was lined up and I was about to ease on when he grabbed my hips and slammed me down, then he did a sit-up, kissing me, grinding me into his lap as I groaned.
His zipper poked into the back of my leg. I winced and reached behind me to yank his jeans down a bit more.
Oh my God, this was good. And while my blood alcohol levels were probably still over the legal limit, I was pretty sure I was sober enough to feel every single nerve ending sing, sing a symphony. His fingers were on my clit, his other arm was wound around me, holding my knot of hair at the back of my head as he drove me down on him over and over, pistoning into me from underneath. My fingers were in his hair, my lips on his, and I was already almost there. There.
He let go of my hair and pinched my nipple through my bra, and then he yanked the cup of my bra aside and twisted my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“Spencer. Oh God. Oh, fuck…” I was coming, hard with him in me, rolling that nipple, twisting my clit, his mouth moving all over my mouth, my jaw, my neck, my shoulders. His eyes were fiery, lusty, carnal. He was kissing, licking, sucking, biting, and driving into me.
“Like that?” he grunted at me.
“Uh huh…”
He pulled the elastic out of my hair, making it fall around my shoulders.
“Say it.”
“I like it…” I squeaked out a big orgasm, my lungs seizing briefly.
I collapsed onto him, then he flipped us and hammered me hard, so hard, making the bed do a squeak-bang, squeak-bang, squeak-bang. Shit. Shit! This whole entire clubhouse would hear that noise. It was LOUD.
He let out a groan and went still on me.
“Fuckin’ wanna kiss every inch of this beautiful body,” he told me, as I lay there, boneless. His mouth touched mine, then those full lips gave a light kiss to my shoulder, and moved down farther still, to touch my elbow. His eyes sparked with light and he smiled, showing me that cheek dimple before moving down to my ribs. He kissed them reverently, rubbing his fingers softly over them. It dawned that this was where I’d had that bruise. My heart tried to jump out of my chest. I shivered, trying to catch my breath, and then my knee was being kissed.
I giggled. “Okay, that’s enough.”
“No, it isn’t. Anyone ever tell you you’re fucking beautiful in the morning?” He shook his head. “Always, but in the morning? Fuck, baby.”
My heart seized.
His lips were on my ankle and then he tickled the bottom of my heel, making me giggle again. And then he had my foot in his hand and he kissed the pad of my big toe. I chewed my lip and struggled to swallow.
Holy shit. That look in his eyes. Those eyes that were locked with mine. I swallowed hard.
He climbed back up.
“The way you look at me, Pippa Griffin…” He shook his head like he was thinking he was screwed. Weird that he was thinking the same thing I was at that exact moment. But then he said, “Let’s go to your place, shower together, have breakfast, then do that again.”
“I have work,” I replied, reality trying to worm in.
“When?” he asked, kissing his way back up my shin, mouth touching my knee, then moving up. I grabbed his face as he was about to touch down between my parted legs. He climbed the rest of the way up. I scrubbed his cheeks with my raspberry fingernails, which matched the toe he’d just kissed. His face was sandpapery. Sexy.
“3:00.”
He gave me a smile. I poked that left cheek dimple with my fingertip.
I could’ve made something up, but I really can’t lie. Believe me, I haven’t tried in a long time, because it never works out. I either fumble it or if I miraculously get away with it, the universe pays me back almost immediately.
“Let’s get dressed. Go to your place. Take a shower together?”
“Don’t you have work, too?” I asked.
“Takin’ the mornin’ off. Ella sold a bike yesterday, demonstrating she can hold down the fort.”
“She did?”
“Yeah, I slept late ‘cause of the night before and someone came in and started askin’ questions. She coulda punted it to Dad, but she handled it. She sold a fifty k Harley.”
“That is awesome.”
“Yep, she’s been paying attention to my spiel the last few months since she started workin’ with us. So, she can handle it until 3:00. I’ll hang with you until you have to go to the hairdressers.”
“Uh…this doesn’t exactly go with our agreement last night.”
“Our agreement?”
“I told you I wasn’t ready for----" He covered my mouth with his hand.
“Breakfast. And a shower. And some of this,” He cupped me between the legs and I whimpered. “Not tryin’ to put a ring on your finger yet, Pippa.” He smiled big and loosened his fingers.
“What do you want for breakfast?” I asked from behind his fingers.
“Waffles? I really want waffles, baby. Been wanting waffles since that first morning after the night we met.” He caressed my bottom lip with those fingertips, staring at what he was doing.
“I’m not sure I’m ready to make anybody waffles, Spencer.”
His eyes moved back up to meet mine. “Let’s go out, get someone to make us both waffles for today, then.”
“I’m not sure I want waffles,” I whispered.
“I can wait for another day for waffles,” he said with a shrug. “Been waitin’ a while already. I can wait a little bit longer.”
“You’re not really talking about waffles here, Spencer, and---”
“Shh,” he kissed me. “Let’s just go have breakfast.”
“Just breakfast?” I asked.
He smiled. “If that’s all you want right now, I’ll settle for that.”
I blew out a breath of relief.
“Okay, out for breakfast, and then we part ways for today.”
He got up and took the condom off and threw it in the trash bin beside his bed. I guessed that trash can was pretty full after last night.
I looked away, righted my panties and slipped back into my pants and then I stood at the mirror ove
r his dresser to fix my hair while he got dressed in another Henley, this one gray, and he put his Dominion Brotherhood leather cut on.
“Don’t move, I’ll be right back.” He slipped out and I stared at myself in the mirror, chewing my lip.
God, what was I doing? Evidence was suggesting I wasn’t out of his system.
Evidence was suggesting I didn’t want him out of mine.
He was back.
“Ready?”
“Ready, Freddy.”
He opened the door wide and shut and locked it behind me.
I followed him and just before we got to the kitchen, where there was a lot of traffic, much of the full house engaged in breakfast-eating or breakfast-making, he grabbed my hand and waved. “See you guys later. Takin’ the mornin’ off, Dad. Tell Ella she’s got the fort for the first hour or so. I’ll have my phone on if she has anything urgent come up.”
“Right-o,” Deke said, smiling.
Scott and Deanna were there at the counter, making food, and Dee smiled at me. Her hair had been up in a ponytail and was now down, so I was guessing she’d already gotten her morning nookie quickie.
I pulled my hand out of his as we got out to the staircase and gave him a look.
He winked at me.
I didn’t have the presence of mind to argue, but it was obvious he was making something known to the men in the clubhouse about him and me, something I had told him wasn’t going to be the case. But, I didn’t have the energy to give him a hard time about it. I was starving, suddenly, and kind of feeling, for some reason, like I was walking on sunshine.
We got to his way cool, shiny, black motorcycle and he was putting a helmet on me when Ella and Deacon were pulling in on Deacon’s motorcycle.
Ella’s smile was huge. Too huge. I scrunched my face up at her, so she tried to tamp it down. She failed.
“You got the fort ‘til around eleven,” Spencer told her. “My phone’s on.”
She saluted him.
Deacon had a smile on his face as she got off his bike. “Mornin’ Pippa.”
“Hey,” I said, a little breathlessly.