Wild Side

by Cynthia Ayman

  I curl my finger inside, searching for the spot, and I know I found it when her hips lift and a surprised gasp escapes her. I give her another finger while my tongue circles her clit and, with the way her hand grips my hair, I know she is already close.

  “Apa,” she murmurs, and it surprises me how I want to hear my real name from her lips.

  That’s why I usually try to stay away from women like her. The ones who are not part of my club, or don’t know anything about our lifestyle. They make me want things that I normally shouldn’t.

  She is dripping wet on my hand, the sound loud and fucking erotic in my ears as I finger her.

  I brush my teeth against her clit, barely, just enough to give her that edge, and she tenses suddenly under me, her fingers no longer gentle in my hair.

  Oh, no. She grips the shit out of it and rocks her hips against my mouth, losing control the same way I did when I was in her mouth.

  Her thighs close on my face when she climaxes with a long, strangled wail. My dick feels a little cheated when she clenches on my fingers, and I can’t believe it already wants back in her pussy.

  Not that I don’t get it.

  Because I do. And I can’t help but think that I’m a little screwed. Abby is not the only one who is needy, apparently.

  Chapter 6

  Abby

  “You really gave up law school?” Apa asks me in a surprised voice. We’re in bed, a collection of snacks sprawled between us. With all the exercising, we got hungry a little after midnight and raided the vending machines by the front desk.

  “Yup. Law school was my parents’ dream. I went with it because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life, and I figured it was a good career. I got my bachelor’s degree, but law school wasn’t for me. I was good, and I had very good grades, but it was pointless. I wasn’t going to continue that path. I started working in a hotel to make some money while I took some courses. I’ve always loved baking. Always been good at it, too, but I wanted to be as professional as possible. After two years, I felt confident enough to start working in that field. I got really lucky because I found this small bakery, and the owner loved to do everything traditionally. Gary taught me everything I didn’t know, while also offering me a job. He retired last year once he was sure the bakery was in good hands. I’m renting it now.”

  “I don’t know what surprises me the most. That you gave up a promising career, or that you ever thought being a lawyer would make you happy.”

  “I know,” I laugh as I take a chip from the bag he’s holding. “I was young. It took a while for my mom to get over it. College isn’t exactly cheap, and my parents funded most of it for me. But she loves my cakes, so… she stopped complaining.”

  “You must be cute as hell dressed as a baker. How’s your shop? Is it one of those girly things, with pastel colors, little bows and pink everywhere?”

  I glare at him but he’s not really far off. “I redecorated when I took over. It’s mostly pale yellow. And our outfit when we’re serving customers is mint green.” There are some soft pink and pale grey paintings on the walls, too. It is girly, warm, soft, and welcoming.

  “Fuck. Maybe I should visit you one day.”

  I pause a little at that because it reminds me that I’m leaving in a few hours. I’m probably never going to see him again, and it surprises me how I feel that loss. I barely know the guy. He’s crazy good in bed, bossy and just rough enough, but he’s also a gentleman and has a softer, patient side that I really dig. He doesn’t seem stupid either based on our conversations.

  Not that we talked a lot. He mostly used his mouth for other activities, like making me come twice. I still managed to find out a little more about him. He used to be in the Marines - because yes, of course. The hotness level wasn’t high enough already, apparently. I’m half-expecting him to tell me he works as a firefighter part time and also volunteers at a dog shelter, just to make sure I have all my wet dream guys all wrapped up into one delicious man.

  He’s never been married or engaged. Only had a handful of serious relationships, all before he joined his club. He’s not really into baseball, loves football but he’s a Broncos fan while I’m a 49er through and through. He’s also a big fan of Star Wars, which is a pleasant surprise.

  He’s also extremely laid-back. In everything, not just the sex. Nothing fazes him. I’ve never felt so comfortable, intimately comfortable I mean, with anyone. Or at least not in a matter of hours. He laughs easily and his ego, even though it definitely shows when he talks dirty to me, doesn’t shine the rest of the time. He is confident and assured, but not overly arrogant.

  I find this extremely attractive in a man.

  He’s also definitely sweet, or at least he’s good at pretending he is. He takes a few selfies of us as I lay against his chest, my hair looking like I just survived a tornado. There is even one I know I’ll be looking at all the time, of him pressing a kiss on my hair. He says that since I want to brag to my girlfriends, I should have some decent pics.

  I also notice he lowers the toilet seat once he’s done, and that really earns him a gigantic amount of brownie points.

  Not that it matters since we’re just having a one-night stand. But still. It’s worth noting.

  ***

  Apa

  Abby loves Doritos. The cheese ones, especially. She said no when I asked if she wanted a bag too, saying she preferred to stick with the multigrain bars - the only somewhat healthy thing we managed to get our hands on.

  So I only grabbed one bag for me. And she ate about half of it.

  Typical.

  What’s not typical is how she doesn’t seem to care about eating in bed, or the crumbs that will probably be annoying as hell when we eventually fall asleep - or start round three.

  It’s 1:34 right now, and I’m trying not to laugh when she tells me about her first and last skinny-dipping adventure, which ended abruptly when a church congregation chose the spot she and her boyfriend had selected for their Sunday picnic. I’m thinking I could take her to the lake, where the club likes to go when it gets hot in the summer. Then I’m reminded we’re in October, and by the time June arrives we will both have forgotten about each other.

  My brothers wonder where I am sometime after midnight. Friday nights are club party nights. The good kind of party. It usually takes a lot for me to miss one and, to be totally honest, I wasn’t planning on skipping it fully. I figured that by eleven, Abby would be snoring her head off, fully satisfied.

  Except my little paparazzi has stamina. I don’t know when I started to forget about the fact that I first planned on sleeping with her just to piss off Cassie and Todd. I’m thinking probably around the time I first kissed her. I should come clean, and admit I’m heading to the same wedding, maybe tell her about the crazy coincidence that is taking me to Sonoma too, but I don’t.

  What will it change anyway? I also don’t want to take the risk of being kicked out of her room, if I’m honest. So, I keep quiet.

  We watch an old episode of Battlestar Galactica, which is not really my jam, but Abby likes it. When the alarm clock shows it’s past 3:00, she is straddling me, bouncing on my cock like there’s no tomorrow. My hands are cupping her tits as she works hard, little pants and mewls of pleasure escaping her when her clit rubs against my pelvic bone.

  Jesus Christ, that girl. The mix of sweet and wanton is delicious, and it’s been a while since I’ve had a partner as compatible as she is.

  Pity I can’t keep her around for a little while. Especially with the way she is looking at me right now. Were all her other lovers that bad in bed that every orgasm I pull out of her seems to shake her to her core?

  I let her savor the last of her climax while my hands stroke her hips lazily. She is leaning with her hands flat on my chest as she tries to catch her breath, her pussy massaging me deep inside. To say it feels fucking amazing is putting it mildly. I could stay inside her forever.

  “You good?” I ask after a few seconds.
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  She nods then opens her eyes once again.

  I flip her over because I doubt she is in any shape to do anything more and I need to come, too. I arrange her legs, her knees in the crooks of my elbows to keep her in her place, then I sink into her once again. She seems almost out of it at first, her arms limp beside her head as I start thrusting. Her eyes have that dreamy gleam, the one that is impossible to fake. The bed is shaking now and, in our position, the movement makes it slam against the wall. Whoever is in the next room is about to get a wake-up call because I’m just getting started. Her legs are bouncing with each of my thrusts, but my eyes are glued to her tits.

  Fuck. Those tits. Soft, completely natural. I want to fall asleep with my face between them and wake up sucking on a nipple.

  I’ve already come twice tonight, so I know I’m not about to climax quickly. I can wait for her to float back to earth. My eyes go south to watch as I move inside of her and damn, seeing the way her pussy is stretched around me is erotic as hell. I’m giving it to her good and it doesn’t take long until her breathing starts to quicken again.

  My name is on her lips as her hands reach out for my biceps. It spurs me on, the way she grips them tight. I can hear my balls slapping against her ass, even through the racket the bed is now making. She is probably going to be sore as hell tomorrow, but I can’t stop. I can’t slow down, I’ve reached my breaking point, the one when instincts take over, when my hips are pumping away and my dick has taken control. The way everything tightens and coils deep in my abdomen is almost painful, like it always is when your body is ready to cave in, but your release is still too far away. My arms are shaking now, and I can feel sweat dripping from my forehead.

  I grab her legs and shove them up, until her ankles are on my shoulders. I groan then, because her legs are now closed, and she feels even tighter. It feels like my cock has to spread her open every time I thrust in, force her folds to welcome me.

  It feels good for her, too. I can see in the way she is grimacing as she focuses on her pleasure. I’m already familiar with that expression.

  “Come on, Abby,” I encourage her. I want her orgasm. It’s what I need to push me over the edge, her tight pussy squeezing me deep inside.

  I can’t do anything else but watch as the pleasure starts to build for her. I like watching, too. I like knowing my cock is doing that to her. It’s great to make a woman come, no matter the way. But let’s not lie, I’m a man. To make a woman come with my dick is a power trip in itself.

  Finally, her mouth drops open and her nails slip on my skin, digging deep. I don’t care about the pain. I don’t even notice it. She is right there, and when she finally lets go, her mouth is wide open on a silent scream as one of her hands reaches back to push against the headboard.

  I grunt. I literally grunt. It’s loud, too. But it feels so fucking good when she starts milking me, literally pulling the orgasm out of me. I’m balls deep, probably nudging her cervix, and the mental picture it brings creates new fantasies I never knew I had. The idea of filling her up with my seed makes me shout her name. The orgasm almost kills me this time, or at least it feels like it. I’m still hard when I get back to my senses, my body dropped on hers, her limp legs cradling me as I stroke in and out slowly.

  I kiss her when I’m still moving inside her and it’s messy, the two of us drunk with pleasure.

  I think I just had the best orgasm of my life and I don’t really know what to do with that thought.

  Chapter 7

  Abby

  Apa is gone when I wake up.

  It’s probably better that way, too. How exactly do you part ways with your hook-up? I’m touched he left a note, though. It’s simple, mostly to tell me he made sure my car was waiting for me in front of my room. Which, I have to admit, I completely forgot about. I’m sorry, Bertha. Everything that happened ever since the moment he knocked on my door is a little fuzzy.

  I really want to sleep a little more, but I also know I have another four hours to drive and I want to make it there with plenty of time to get ready. I have a feeling I’m going to need a lot of makeup today.

  Getting out of bed is a struggle and not just because I only slept a couple hours. After round three, Apa and I fell asleep. I think we actually fell asleep instantly because my mind is blank when I try to remember what happened after he shouted my name.

  Oh, yeah. I didn’t tell you. Mr. Hottie, the big badass biker, shouted my name when he climaxed.

  It’s an accomplishment, and one that will be hard to top. The only thing that could have been even better for my ego is if he had cried tears of pleasure. But that might have been pushing it.

  The only downside of that ego boost I had last night? Everything hurts.

  And I do mean everything. My thighs feel like I ran a marathon. My calves are sore too. My back. And inside. Wow. It’s tender. I can feel my muscles, down there. I’m aware of their existence with every step I take.

  Mission accomplished, Apa. I know what you meant about good sex now.

  The shower I take is long. Extra-long. I try not to think about the last shower I took, with him behind me, washing me with surprisingly gentle - but slightly groping - hands. I will definitely have a lot to tell Val when I see her on Monday.

  I can’t help but feel a little sad that this was just a one-night stand. We got on well together. Not just physically, but even talking with him was nice and easy.

  Yeah, I’m sure you would have fit just as well in his clubhouse, a little voice snickers in my head.

  Ugh. The voice does have a point. He didn’t tell me much about his club, but it did seem like they enjoyed their freedom in every aspect, and I don’t doubt that it’s even raunchier than I think. Our lives are too different. At least I got to spend the night with a hot biker and wow, was it worth it.

  I make it to the inn four hours before the ceremony. My mom and Aunt Josie, the mother of the bride, are chirping louder than a flock of canaries as they show me my room. They also shove a dress in my arms, and I groan because of course I have to wear the bridesmaid uniform. They swear to me that Beverly was a little “on the plump side too” and that it shouldn’t be too tight.

  Great.

  I manage a two-hour nap in the king-sized bed - I inherited Beverly’s room too. Her loss. That bed freaking rocks. I still walk stiffly when I wake up, but it doesn’t look like I need a cane anymore, so I consider it a win.

  Explaining to my mom why I was walking with bowed legs wasn’t fun. I managed to convince her that the motel I spent the night in had a dreadful bed and that, combined with the long trip in my Bertha, has aged me of a good fifty years.

  A long bath later and I’m as good as can be. I notice several bruises on my hips, and a hickey on my neck which I manage to conceal with a low side bun. I’ve never been more thankful for my long, super thick hair than I am right now.

  The dress is a deep red, which at least makes my eyes pop, but it’s also on the tight side. And by that, I mean I have to forego the bra. Not that I need it because the fabric is so snug my girls are practically shoved under my chin. I’m not looking forward to being paired with Todd’s little brother. I only saw Todd’s family once, at the engagement party, and his brother is an eighteen-year-old kid who seems to spend most of his time playing video games. I have a feeling my lack of bra won’t be a bother to him.

  Call it a hunch.

  When I’m ready, I join the rest of the bridal party. It’s just the ladies since the groom and his groomsmen will be waiting at the altar. Cassie looks beautiful, I have to admit it. Her blond hair is curly and impeccably frames her face. Those bright blue eyes of hers sparkle with the delicate makeup that I know must have cost a few hundred dollars to achieve. Her dress is a ballgown, which fits her tall, slender figure. She looks at me as I walk in and scowls a little. I silently dare her to say something - anything, really. Because I’m twenty-eight, and she can’t bully me like she used to when we were kids. The slightest jab and I’m out.r />
  She probably senses it because she keeps quiet and even mutters a thank you when her mother nudges her forward.

  Beverly is probably smaller than me because I can see that the dress is supposed to end right above the knee and not mid-thigh like it does on me. It’s OK, though. I have nice legs and since I shaved, I’d rather show them.

  I am one of the first bridesmaids to walk down to the altar, and I quickly take my spot after Melissa, Cassie’s little sister. I don’t even glance at Todd, too busy making sure my boobs are still in place. I feel the pastor’s reproachful eyes on me, and I can’t stop the glare I throw back at him.

  Look, I know it’s short. It’s not like it’s my choice.

  Great. And now I’m probably going to hell because I just mentally snapped back at a man of God.

  Cassie makes her grand entrance on a rendition of All Of Me, which is beautiful but I don’t think it fits since it talks about a girl with curves, and Cassie is notoriously known for her obsession with diets.

  For once that a guy makes a romantic song about a woman with curves, a skinny bitch has to use it for her wedding.

  I can’t help it, I roll my eyes when I spot my mother wiping the tears off her face.

  And that’s when I see him. He is looking at me, hiding a grin behind his fist, his head low.

  At first, I think I’m having an hallucination. I skipped lunch and it’s four in the afternoon, so my blood sugar must be dangerously low.

  But why would I see him in a tuxedo? In my fantasies, he is my super-hot biker, not a groomsman. I’m shell-shocked when he winks at me, and the bouquet I’m holding almost slips from my hands.

  What the hell is Apa doing here? And as a groomsman, no less? I told him about the wedding. He knew. And he didn’t say anything. Why? It’s not like Sonoma has a dozen other inns with a Todd and a Cassie getting married today. I’m so out of it, my mind full of questions, that I almost miss the moment when the groom gets the green light to kiss his bride.