by Zoey Parker
“What if I really want to be a bartender?” she asked.
I laughed softly. “Nobody dreams of being a bartender.”
“I guess not. I really want to go to culinary school and become a chef. I majored in hospitality in college.”
“Wow, that’s cool. So you wanna have your own place one day, or what?”
“Exactly.” She sounded a little more comfortable, telling me about what she wanted to do with her life. Good thing, too, since I was getting harder every time she wiggled against me. I knew she had no idea what she was doing, which made it even sexier. Turning me on without meaning to.
“Why don’t you do it, then? Go back to school?”
“It’s super expensive. Like, ridiculously.”
“Do you really need to go to school for it, though? Could you just go to work in a kitchen?”
“I guess, but I really want the training.” She settled back against me, and I almost groaned in her ear. It was already killing me just trying to come up with questions to ask her. I was too distracted to think straight. She was making it so hard for me not to take advantage of her. I wanted to turn her over, spread her legs and take her from behind like an animal. I wanted to fuck her until she screamed my name and passed out because it felt too good.
But she wasn’t the kind of girl I could do that to. I had to get her into it first.
My arm was still around her, and my fingers were curled up on the mattress. I knew her tits were right in front of them, waiting for me to touch. I ran my fingers over her nipples, which went hard right away. I bit my lip to hold back another groan. She was so easy to turn on; it was like a gift. I flicked her nipples again, slowly, like I wasn’t even meaning to. Just casual.
Her breathing almost stopped. She was too busy concentrating on what I was doing to her. I flexed my fingers again, strumming them across her tits. My cock strained against her ass. She was so warm, and I knew she would be so wet when I found her spot. I sighed and flexed my hips.
She sighed, too. I had her. She finally felt me and knew what she was feeling. I ran my hand down her stomach, then to her mound. Her legs were closed, but it didn’t take much effort to get them open again. I found her button, pulsing in her folds, and she cried out when my fingers slid over it. She was wet again, like I knew she would be. She rocked her hips against my hand in a fast, urgent rhythm. I licked her neck, shoulders, anything I could get my mouth on while she came with a sharp, shuddering cry.
“Oh, my God…” She sighed as she collapsed back against me. “Oh, Eric.”
“I need you,” I growled, licking her earlobe as I did. “I need you now. I need to be inside you again.” She shivered in my arms. I knew then how much she wanted me, too.
“Yes. Take me. Please. But be gentle,” she pleaded.
“I will.” I couldn’t promise, but I would try. My cock was doing the thinking for me, and it was straining and throbbing.
I left her on her side, taking her top leg and pushing it forward until she was almost on her stomach. I loved the angle this position gave me. I slid one leg between hers and slid my cock through her cleft until I found her entrance.
“Are you sure?” she whispered. I didn’t know what she was asking, really. Was I sure I could be careful with her, maybe.
“I’m sure,” I muttered, then thrusted forward slowly. She whimpered, burying her face in the pillow. Her muscles were still trembling and pulsing, and it took everything in me to hold back. I wanted to pound her until I couldn’t move anymore. Her body was begging me to come. But I waited for her to adjust with my jaw clenched.
“Okay,” she whispered, taking a deep breath. “I’m okay.” I didn’t wait to hear anything more. I pulled back, then slid forward again. Pulled back, then slid forward. She whimpered a little with every thrust, though the sound of them changed. First it was discomfort, maybe uncertainty. Then it was pleasure. I filled her again and again, stretching her with my thickness. She felt so good.
“You’re so good,” I whispered, pushing into her. “So hot.” She shivered, and I felt her tighten even more.
“I wanna feel you come,” I whispered. “I want you to come for me when I’m inside you. Touch yourself for me.” I held myself up on one hand, taking her tits in the other and playing with them. It was so good. Her body was perfect, and nobody had ever played with it but me. I throbbed a little when I thought that.
“What did you say?” She looked back at me.
“Touch yourself. Don’t tell me you never did.” I kept thrusting, never losing my pace. “Make yourself come. I wanna feel it.”
She waited for a second, then her hand slid between the bed and her body. She stiffened for a second, probably still sensitive from the last orgasm. Then she sighed, and started grinding her hips into the bed.
“Fuck,” I whispered. It was even better than I thought, especially the way she moved against me when she moved her hips. The longer she went, the tighter she got as she started to come. I felt her clamp around me so tight it almost hurt—then she screamed into the pillow, and her muscles started pulsing again.
“Yes…yes…that’s it…” I pumped harder, just hard enough to push myself over the edge. I grunted loudly, exploding inside her. She was still quivering when I slid out.
I rolled onto my back, breathing heavy. I kept a hand on her back, though. I had the feeling she needed the contact. She was feeling emotional again, probably.
What was it about her? Why did I even care? I hadn’t spent the money, or promised to, so I could babysit an emotional chick for the rest of the night. It wasn’t my fault she didn’t know how to be after sex. I hadn’t done anything to hurt her.
Unless I had. Fuck. I didn’t wanna be that guy who could fuck her up for the rest of her life or something.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” I rolled over until I was almost on top of her. She was just the way I left her, practically on her stomach with her legs spread.
“No. I mean, not any more than you would have, anyway. You’re pretty big.” Then she laughed quietly. “Isn’t that what guys like to hear?”
“Yeah, but it helps if the girl is telling the truth,” I said.
“Oh, I am. You’re huge. I didn’t think I could get you all the way inside me.”
I couldn’t help it. My ego got a little bigger.
“What’s wrong, then?”
“I don’t know. It’s a lot to handle,” she admitted. She finally rolled over, and I moved back to give her room. “Like, we didn’t know each other before we started doing this. That’s strange for me. I don’t know if you’re used to being with a lot of different women…”
“I wouldn’t say a lot,” I said. I was lying, but she didn’t need to know. What she also didn’t need to know about was the sex fest I was on in the months after my release. I must have slept with dozens of women since then, in just three months.
Still, she was different. I hated that the thought kept coming to mind, but I couldn’t stop it. There was something special about her. I felt more comfortable with her. I could be myself, not “Eric the biker” or “Eric the tough guy.” It was who I was, but not all of who I was. I had pushed myself way down deep inside a long time before that. It made it easier for me to do the things I had to do. I could beat a guy half to death as long as I didn’t think about what it might do to his family, or whether he had a mother who worried about him being mixed up in the wrong things. I could run guns and drugs as long as I didn’t think about the people on the other side of the transaction—the people who would eventually get their hands on both and maybe kill themselves or other people.
I could kill someone if I didn’t think of them as a person who had a life in the minute before they crossed my path.
I moved away from her, rolling onto my back again. I couldn’t be too close to her, because she kept making me think these thoughts. I didn’t want to think them. Life was easier when I didn’t think.
She wouldn’t let me get away though. This tim
e, she rolled over toward me and snuggled up next to me. Oh, shit. I wanted to buck her off, tell her to stick to her side of the bed.
But I couldn’t. Not just because it would be a dick thing to do, but because I already wanted her again. Instead of pushing her away, I put my arms around her.
Chapter Nine
Michelle
Had it really just happened? Had I dreamed the whole thing? I couldn’t have. None of my dreams compared to what had just happened.
I felt giddy and giggly and warm and relaxed all over. Loose as a noodle, as my mother used to say when she was completely relaxed. That was how I felt. Like my body was made of water, and I was floating along without a care in the world. So that was what it was all about. That was what I had been missing. I finally understood what the big deal was.
“You okay?” he asked. I noticed for the first time the way he was holding me in his arms. So gently, tenderly. He understood how I felt, I thought. It was a very intimate, raw, vulnerable night. He had been right there with me, guiding me through it. He could have taken advantage. He could have used me. He’d been nothing but amazing. I wished we could go back and do it all again.
“I’m fine. More than fine.”
He chuckled. “I know what you mean.”
“Was it good for you, the first time, I mean?”
He stopped chuckling. “No. Not many first times are very good.”
“That was what my best friend said. Most girls don’t get anything more than a…what did she say? Thanks or was that okay.”
He laughed. “That’s pretty much how it goes. Nobody knows what they’re doing the first time. If you’re with another virgin, forget it.”
“Unless you were in love,” I said. “I think if it was two virgins, but they were very much in love, it would be different. They could sort of…help each other through it.”
He was silent for a long time before talking. “Do you really believe that?”
“You make me feel like the world’s biggest nerd,” I said, wishing I had never spoken at all.
“No, no. I don’t mean to. I actually think it’s kind of nice that you believe that. I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t with a virgin the first time.”
“Who were you with?”
“Ahh, are you gonna make me say it?”
I giggled. “You don’t have to.” I couldn’t see his face in the darkness, so I couldn’t tell if he was blushing. I hoped he was.
“All right. God, you’re gonna laugh.”
“I won’t. I swear.”
“You’re practically laughing now!”
“No, I’m not.” I bit the inside of my mouth. “Okay? No laughter.”
He sighed. “Okay. I was with a prostitute.”
I bit my lip hard. Finally, once the urge to laugh at passed, I murmured, “I hope you didn’t have to pay as much then as you did tonight.”
“See, I knew you would make a joke.”
“I’m not. I’m sorry.” I put my head on his chest. I didn’t know why it mattered to me whether or not his feelings were hurt. Somehow it did.
“Besides, I didn’t pay for it,” he said. “Some of the guys in my club did. It was my sixteenth birthday, and they knew I was still a virgin. So they got a girl for me.”
“Oh. That’s different,” I said. “That’s sort of nice, in a way.” I was trying hard to make up for the way I had laughed.
“Yeah, I guess. Their hearts were in the right place.” He sighed heavily, like he was remembering it all. “But it wasn’t a good idea. At all.”
“Why not?”
“It was awkward and fumbly and I felt like she kept laughing at me. It’s like you see in movies or whatever—what do they call it? The hooker with a heart of gold?”
I smiled. “Yeah. That’s it.”
“There’s no such thing. She wasn’t Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, if you get what I mean. She was tired and jaded. She wanted to get it over with and get her money and get out. I felt worse after we were finished than I did before we started.”
“I’m sorry.” I knew it had to be tough for him to admit something like that to me. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who shared personal information like that. I thought about the man he was, and then about the boy he used to be. The boy on his sixteenth birthday who was so afraid of a prostitute. He must have been scared and embarrassed—sort of the way I was at first. But I was lucky. Eric had been more than good to me. I wondered if part of it wasn’t because of his uncomfortable experience.
“You said something about the guys in your club. What club?”
He stiffened beneath me. I’d hit a nerve. “I’m sorry if that was a bad question. You don’t have to answer.”
“Oh, no, no. It’s not that.” He sighed again, and ran his hand up and down my back almost idly. Like he wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing, just touching me. It felt nice. Natural.
“Is it, like, a secret club?”
I heard humor in his voice. “Secret club?”
“Yeah, you know. The way the Masons are very secretive. I don’t know. Oh, is it the mob?”
He laughed out loud. “No, it’s not the mob, or the Masons. It’s a motorcycle club.”
“Ohhhh.” It all made sense. He was obsessed with motorcycles, judging from the number of magazines in his living room and the way he had lit up like a Christmas tree when I asked him about his own bike.
“They just named me president today,” he confided.
“No way! Shut up, that’s really cool! Congratulations!”
He was quiet for a moment, then replied, “Thanks a lot.” I heard genuine gratitude in his voice.
“So what’s that mean? You head up the club. Do you guys have meetings and such?”
He stiffened again. When would I stop asking uncomfortable questions? “Sorry. You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“I just think it would be better if you didn’t know much about the club.” What he didn’t realize was that he’d already told me everything I needed to know, just from the way he answered my question. He was into some pretty bad things if he didn’t want to tell me about them. Who was I in bed with, anyway?
“Can you tell me the name of your club?”
“The Lightning Bolts.”
What a corny name, I thought. I wondered who named them. “That’s cool,” I said. “Have you been in it for long?”
“Since I was thirteen.”
“Thirteen! No kidding. Wow. They let people into the club at that age?”
He shook his head. My eyes had adjusted the dark pretty well by then, and I could see his profile and part of his face. I saw that his expression was light, relaxed. He didn’t mind my asking. “No, of course not. I couldn’t ride. Being able to ride is one of the first rules. The whole reason I was elected president was because Spike, our former prez, couldn’t ride anymore. His arthritis is too bad.”
“Oh, that’s a shame. So what did you do back then?”
“Errands. I did anything anybody wanted me to do. And they learned they could trust me, you know?”
“Very smart.” I snuggled against him. I was appreciating him more and more, it seemed, and the more I did, the closer I wanted to be.
“I wanted to be part of them,” he said. “That was all I wanted. I wanted to belong. They had such a brotherhood there. I wanted that. I wanted to know people had my back no matter what.” That, right there, told me everything I needed to know about Eric’s early life. Not that I needed to know. I wanted to know. He was a fascinating person, Eric Turner. A biker living in a filthy house with plenty of disposable cash. He was a deep thinker, too. Maybe not educated, but he was smart. Otherwise he wouldn’t be the president of his club.
“I didn’t have a ton of friends growing up,” I admitted, wanting to let him know I knew how he felt without coming out and telling him so. “I was the tallest girl in the class. Nerdy, too. Everybody picked on me. The boys especially.” I tightened my arms around him reflexively. “Ma
ybe that’s why I was never with anybody before tonight.”
“Why? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Self-esteem.”
“Gotcha.” He ran a hand down the length of my body, from my shoulder to the ankle of the leg I slung over his hips. “I happen to like tall women with long legs.”
“Little boys are stupid, though.”
“You’re right. Sometimes big boys, too.”
I giggled, but the giggle was cut short when I felt Eric’s hand travel back up my leg, lingering at my hip before pulling me nearly on top of him. His mouth found mine in the darkness.