by Nicole Fox
“Yes, you do,” Danny informed me, arrogantly. He bent down and pressed his lips to mine, forcing entry into my mouth, pillaging with his tongue.
I pushed futilely against his chest, trying to get him away from me. But of course, I was no match for his size and muscles.
“Hey,” someone said from behind Danny, and the biker pulled away from me. There was another biker standing there, and holy hell, if I had thought Danny could have his pick of any woman in the bar, he had nothing on the newcomer. He had curly black hair and bright, sea-colored eyes. The man was a biker as well, but he just somehow seemed cleaner than Danny. Like he was somehow a better guy.
But at the moment, he looked practically murderous, scowling down at Danny. “The fuck did Marsha say again about coming on to people in here?” he spat. “You fucking scumbag.”
Danny shoved the man away, looking just as incensed. “Fuck off, Ryce. This is totally consensual. And none of your business.”
“Totally consensual, huh?” The man — Ryce, was it? — sneered at Danny. “Then why the hell does the girl look terrified? And why is she trying so desperately to get away from you? She's one step short of screaming, and you know that as well as I do.”
“Fuck off,” Danny repeated, shoving the other man again. But before he could say anything else, Ryce's fist snapped out and collided with his temple. He slumped to the ground, clearly out cold, and Ryce made some sort of a signal to the bouncer, who swooped in to scoop up the man's limp body.
Then, my savior turned to me, holding out a hand. “My name's Jake, Jake Ryce,” he told me. “Are you all right?”
Chapter Two
Jake
I fiddled with the old radio, trying to find a station that was playing something, rather than just trying to sell me a bunch of useless shit. God, I hated that stretch of the afternoon when radio companies seemed to think everyone was at work and they could just blast everyone with dumb talk shows and bullshit like that.
Finally, I found a decent classic rock station and left the thing on that, humming along under my breath to the Journey song that they were currently playing. But wouldn't you know?
As soon as that song was over, it was time for yet another commercial break.
I almost threw my wrench across the shop in frustration. The only thing that kept me from doing so was the reminder that if I chose to do that, I would only be making more work for myself — and we were working on a deadline that day. A deadline that I already wasn't sure I was going to be able to meet — at least, not unless I wanted to stay in the shop until midnight, which I definitely didn't.
I loved being the owner and sole proprietor of Reaper Custom Choppers and having the flexibility to schedule my own hours and hire whoever I really wanted to work with. That said, I was a bit of a workaholic, and that made owning my own business a bit of a nightmare. I had a really hard time pulling back and making time for myself…
“Hey boss?” Bryce said, poking his head around the door that led into the front office.
“What's up?” I asked, glancing over at him as I continued to tinker away at Lee's bike. It was probably an electrical issue, but I couldn't seem to find the source of it. All the lines seemed to be connected and working properly. But the engine just kept cutting out.
“There's someone here to see you,” Bryce said.
“I'm too busy right now,” I told him honestly, still unable to tear my eyes away from the bike. “Anyway, if the dude's got a problem with his bike, you're more than capable of handling it, aren't you? What am I paying you for, anyways?”
Bryce coughed a little, seeming uncertain — and that was in itself was weird. Bryce had long been his best friend, one of the only people he could count on other than the leader of his biker gang, Devil's Route. “Yeah,” Bryce said, a strange note in his voice. “See, I'd be perfectly willing to help her, only she isn't here about a bike. She's specifically asking to see you.”
I groaned and rolled my eyes. “Well, I'm busy,” I said again.
“I know,” Bryce said. “But maybe you want to at least arrange to get drinks with her or something like that later in the week?” He lowered his voice. “She's fucking hot, man. And I'd love to say that if you aren't interested, I'll get her digits for myself, but I already tried that tactic and she just laughed.”
I finally turned my attention away from the bike and turned to look at him, a frown on my face. “Did she say who she was?” I asked.
Bryce shook his head. “She just said that she knows you and has something really important to talk to you about.”
“Is she in Devil's Route, or—”
Bryce practically cackled at that. “Definitely not,” he told me. “Can't even imagine her on the back of a bike, let alone driving one herself, if I'm behind honest. Don't think I've ever seen her before in my life, either. No idea who she is or what she wants.”
I sighed, giving one last look towards the bike. Well, maybe I needed a break anyway. It might clear my head, give me some sort of brainstorm about just what was wrong with the electrical system. I could only hope…
“All right. Fine,” I said, wiping my hands off on a rag and heading towards the front office.
The woman was every bit as hot as Bryce had alluded. But just like he'd said, she looked nothing like a biker chick. She was sitting on the edge of the office couch, her hands folded demurely in her lap, a nervous look on her face. Her long, auburn hair was the most arresting part of her look — or maybe those witchy green eyes.
She stared up out of that pretty, heart-shaped face, and I could already feel myself growing half hard in my jeans, imagining what she must look like when she was giving a blow job. With those soft pink lips of hers… Well, it was like she was made for that.
She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place her. Maybe she was the friend of a friend, or the kid sister of one of my friends? Or maybe I had just seen her around town. I didn't know why she would have come looking for me in those cases, though.
“Hi,” she said, sounding a little shy. She took a few hesitant steps forward and held out her hand to me. “I'm Halley Talin. Not sure you remember me.” She gave a little laugh. “I mean, I'm pretty sure you don't remember me. Like, 99% positive that you don't remember me. I probably shouldn't have come to bother you at work. But—”
“You're the girl from the bar,” I said, suddenly able to place that face. Granted, that had been, what, five or ten years ago now? And a one night stand, to boot.
I frowned at her, a furrow forming between my eyebrows. Just what was she doing here? Did she think she could waltz back into town and booty call me in the middle of the day while I was at work? She honestly had never seemed like that kind of woman anyway, but this was just a little strange.
“I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here,” she said, and there was that nervous little laugh again. “To be honest, I don't really know what I'm doing here. I mean, I do, and I guess you remember me, so...” She fell quiet, scratching at the back of her neck. “God, I guess I should have figured out what I wanted to say before I got here. But I think if I'd given myself any more time to think about it, I would have chickened out.”
“Oh really?” I asked. I paused, wondering how much I wanted to reveal about the massive crush I'd had on her, about the measures I'd taken in the attempt to track her down. It was safe enough, I figured, to say that I had asked Tiffany about her. “Last I heard, you had moved to Louisiana or somewhere. Georgia, maybe? Are you back in the area, though?”
Halley looked surprised, and that made sense; Tiffany probably hadn't told her that I'd been asking, and she seemed to have left town in a hurry. Though, what did I know? I had only met her that one night, the first and only night of passion that we had shared, so for all I knew, that move could have been in the works for months. Something about the way Tiffany had said it, though…
“Yeah, uh, Louisiana,” Halley said, clearing her throat a little awkwardly. “I went to live with my grandparents
down there. I had to sort out some personal things.”
“Oh?” I asked archly. I wanted to press her for details, but it wasn't as though I had ever really known the woman, other than carnally. It wasn't my place to pry. “Well, are you back up here for good, or just visiting?”
“I honestly don't know,” Halley said, sounding lost and unsure. She ducked her head a little. “I just had to get out of Louisiana.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” I said, unable to keep the hint of disdain out of my voice.
Halley laughed musically at that one, though. “No, it was nothing like that. I love it down there, I really do. But I just...” She rubbed awkwardly at the inside of her wrist. “Anyway, I should be back in town for at least a little while. And I just figured, well, I thought that maybe I'd stop by and reintroduce myself. Maybe, uh, give you my number, in case you were, y’know, interested. For some reason.”
I blinked at her, wondering how she could manage to be so incredibly forward and so incredibly shy at the same time. “Here,” I said, grabbing a black marker out of my shirt pocket and stepping forward. “Why don't I give you my number? Then you can call me if you figure out just what it is you're trying to say.”
She smiled a little at that, holding out her arm so that I could scrawl my phone number on the underside of her soft, pale arm. Oh, how I would rather be tracing that path with my tongue than the marker…
“So, I guess I'll be seeing you around, then,” he told her, nodding his head at her.
“Yeah,” she said faintly, biting her lower lip. “Yeah, I guess you will.” Without another word, she turned and strolled out of the shop, swinging her hips a little as she went, showing off her perfect curves in that cute little green dress of hers.
Bryce wolf-whistled as the door shut behind her. “Well, well, well,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Now remind me again, who the fuck is she?”
Chapter Three
Halley
I stared up at the dark ceiling, blinking away the after images of an incredibly steamy dream. I bit my lower lip, debating what I wanted to do. It didn't feel entirely right to bring myself off to thoughts of Jake, not when I was hoping to maybe see him around town. That felt a little too personal or too intimate. It felt as though I had no right to do that. Especially not when he still didn't know about…
I rolled restlessly to my side but then flopped back on my back. The house was entirely silent, I reasoned. Everyone was asleep, and it wasn't as though anyone ever had to know. And anyway, there was no harm in replaying memories from the best night of lovemaking that I'd ever had, was there? Granted, that night had been eight years ago.
Without conscious agreement from my brain, my hand strayed down between my legs, touching myself through the thin fabric of my panties before I dipped my fingers below my waistband and began stroking at the velvety skin there.
The images of that long-ago night were chaotic at this point, broken and half-remembered fragments that seemed almost as though they might have been a dream.
Then again, the evidence of that night — all the evidence that I would ever need — was asleep in the downstairs guest bedroom at my parents' place at that very moment.
I sighed, but I couldn't think any more negative thoughts as my fingers deftly played at my clit, stroking the nub until I was practically desperate with the need to bring myself off. Not that I'd been too far off to begin with after the sexy dream I’d had.
I could remember Jake's strong, sure, and calloused hands playing over my curves, stroking every inch of my tanned skin as though he might memorize it all over the course of the night. And then, when he'd tired of using just his hands, it had been his mouth. His tongue had delved into every nook and cranny of my skin, and he had raked his teeth gently and carefully over all of the sensitive bits.
I touched the side of my neck, remembering the love bite that he had left there. At the time, I had thought that was the only tangible evidence of what we had done. Other than the fact that I had lost my virginity, of course.
I'd been in for a shock a month and a half later when I'd finally bucked up the courage to take a pregnancy test, having missed my period for too long already.
I couldn't help gasping as I slipped my fingers inside of my slick, molten core, and I quickly clapped my other hand over my mouth, trying to stifle my noises. My parents were literally right through the wall from me, and the last thing I needed was for them to hear me pleasuring myself.
There had always been some sense of shame surrounding the topic of sex in our house. My parents were well-meaning, but they were very conservative, and they truly still believed that a woman should save herself for marriage. And when I had admitted to them that I was pregnant, that taboo had grown even stronger.
God, they were so ashamed of me — enough so that they had sent me down to Louisiana to stay with my grandparents. Of course, they'd come down to visit Cole at least every couple months, but our relationship would probably never be the same as it once was.
I bit my tongue to keep from crying out as I scissored my fingers inside of myself, easily finding all the spots that drove me wild. I had a lot of practice at this, truth be told. Sex with Brian, my soon-to-be ex-husband, had always been fine, but I had never been able to shake the feeling that he was just using me. The thing was, if it hadn't been for that night with Jake, I probably would never have known otherwise. But Jake had just made me feel so…
I muffled a groan, clenching tightly around my fingers as my orgasm overtook me. I couldn't think about Jake's easy ministrations, about the way the he had opened me up and gently worked at my folds until I was ready to fit his girth, about the way he had gone slowly and steadily, letting friction rather than force do the trick, until I was a writhing mess on the sheets.
Nothing like that had ever happened with Brian. Usually, he finished pretty early on and left me shuddering against the sheets. I don't know if he thought my shudders were due to some silent orgasm or if he just didn't care that I was still practically vibrating with need, but I'd gotten pretty good at taking care of myself over the years.
I sighed as I stared up at the ceiling, knowing I needed to put all of these thoughts out of my head so that I could go back to sleep. And yet…
It was difficult, now that I was back home again — in ways that I hadn't anticipated. Everywhere I went, every time I thought I heard a motorcycle, I imagined that it might be Jake. When I was out on my own — on the rare moments when I could leave Cole with my parents and go out for some fresh air — it was thrilling to think that he might see me, that we might bump into one another and … well, I didn't know what we might do, but I had a good feeling about things.
But when I was out around town with Cole, it was vaguely terrifying to think that we might bump into one another. I had known from the time of Cole's birth, despite obviously never having seen baby pictures of Jake, that he was the spitting image of his father. And that resemblance had only strengthened as the kid grew up. Now, it would be impossible for Jake to see him without realizing that the kid was, in fact, his.
What would he say when he realized it? Would he be angry with me for never having told him? He had missed the first seven years of his son's life, and although I knew my parents' intentions had been good when they had sent me to Louisiana to stay with my grandparents, I also couldn't help thinking of how I would feel if my child had been kept a secret from me, if I had missed all of those beautiful firsts.
Of course, Jake was a cool biker dude; I couldn't expect him to feel the same way about having a child as I did. To him, Cole would probably be just a hindrance to the lifestyle that he wanted to lead. To me, Cole was my whole world. I couldn't imagine my life without him — I wouldn't even know what to do with myself. Not that I didn't have friends or hobbies, but nothing would fill up my time and the void in my heart if I were to ever lose the kid.
But Jake was more likely to be upset that I had kept the child, that I hadn't had an abortion or put him
up for adoption. But that wasn't very fair, and I knew that. I had never asked Jake for anything. I had made sure that Cole had clothes and schooling and everything else that he would ever need.
Things were different now, though. I needed Jake's help. And he might resent that. No, scratch that— he had to resent that. After eight years, suddenly I had reappeared to tell him that, oh yeah, we had a son together and my crazy soon-to-be ex-husband wanted sole custody of him.
I sighed and rubbed at my eyes, thinking back to the conversation I'd had a few days before with Tiffany when I'd first gotten back in town.
“Wow,” she said, staring out the back door to where Cole was helping Mom with her garden. “He's really grown up.”
I laughed a little. “I mean, he was pretty big the last time you saw him!” I pointed out.
“Yeah, but he was, what, four?” Tiffany asked, shaking her head. “Just look at him now. He wasn't even in school last time I saw him!”