Wild Side

by Cynthia Ayman

  “I really want to fuck you,” I whisper as I lower my head to brush her lips. “We were so fucking good together.”

  Her lips open, and my tongue slips inside. It’s all the encouragement I need as I kiss her deep and slow, following the beat of the music that vibrates inside the walls. I give her another finger and catch her little mewl as I rub my dick against her thigh.

  I’ve been reduced to dry-humping.

  My blood is heating up, and I abandon her mouth to trail down her neck. She smells good there, and I inhale deeply, filling myself with her. My teeth bite down on the hem of her top and lower it until it uncovers her bra. Her nipple is hard, almost piercing through the cotton and my mouth covers it. Not as good as if it was bare, but I kinda like teasing her.

  She is drenched around my fingers, and I want inside badly. She seems to share my opinion, because just as I feel her muscles tightening around me, she pushes on my wrist. I let go of her nipple, noticing the dark spot my mouth left on her bra.

  “I want you inside,” she says with a pant as she tries to wiggle out of her jeans. I help her, because hell, yes, please. Her movements are rushed, so much that I think she rips her top when she gets rid of it. Not that I care very much. I’m already slipping a condom on when she lies back down, her legs opening for me. I climb over her right away and rest most of my weight on a forearm.

  “Lift your knees,” I order as I palm my cock. I find her entrance, the position of her legs allowing me to slam right in. I’m not really smooth at the moment but as I told her, I’m a little bit on edge.

  I groan when I slip deep inside her pussy. I missed it. I missed how tight and warm she is.

  Abby’s hands on my hips are a little stiff. “Wait,” she breathes out.

  “Been a while?”

  “Three months.”

  I’m not that surprised. But I like it nonetheless. I kiss her slowly to help her relax, and I love it when her arms finally circle my shoulders to pull me closer. I give her more of my weight when her thighs circle my waist, my legs tensing with restraint.

  Fuck, I need to move. I really need to move.

  I pull out and squeeze my eyes shut when I press back in. She feels just as good as I remember.

  Our lips connect again when I start pumping. It’s messy as fuck, because it’s hard to kiss thoroughly when you’re rocking together, but it’s amazing. My dick is in its happy place, all warm and snug, and Abby is clearly having a good time, too. Her hands are gripping my ass, guiding my thrusts and meeting them, her feet using the bed as leverage and moaning her head off. It’s hot. She’s hot. So fucking hot, all nice and sweet and proper and then all freaky once I get her naked.

  My pace is hard and eventually I have to let go of her mouth to hide my face in her neck and focus on not shooting my load too quickly. She is getting there, I can feel it, but I’m also getting there fast. I slip a hand between our bodies and even though I’m not exactly precise, the occasional brush of my fingers against her clit speeds things up for her.

  “Yes,” she whines as she presses harder on my ass, trying to slow my thrusts, make them deeper. I oblige the best I can, giving her sharp, deep strokes until she stiffens underneath me. She freezes with her feet still on the bed, her knees spreading to get me deeper, and she comes hard on my next thrust. My dick is all the way in when she clamps down on it and normally, I would fuck her through her orgasm, but I can’t. I’ve reached my breaking point, and I can only give her one more thrust before joining her with a groan, pouring myself inside the condom. My hips jerk with the pleasure and I lose track of time, my body swimming in a sea of endorphins.

  I eventually roll over and pull her above me. I like having her body on top of me, all warm and a little sweaty after sex. “Babe,” I say when I have finally recovered enough.

  “Mmhmm?” she asks, rubbing her nose against my chest. Jesus. I want to kiss her again.

  “I think you should stay longer than we originally planned.”

  One more week won’t be enough, I just know it.

  Chapter 16

  Apa

  Chicks need so much crap.

  Abby has been at the clubhouse for two weeks now. And my room doesn’t really look like my room anymore. There are hair ties and a brush on my nightstand. Her beauty products have taken over my bathroom.

  There are fucking tampons near the toilet.

  Tampons I had to go buy for her five days ago, by the way.

  The brothers are still giving me shit about that. They don’t dare say anything in front of her but fuck, they don’t hold back when she isn’t around. I’ve had enough and by the time she is done with her order for the diner, I have the bike ready to go. I’m taking her on a ride and getting away from the knuckleheads.

  She is giddy when I tell her, and I feel a little guilty. I should have offered to sooner, but I’ve mostly been busy trying to get inside her pants. There is something about her, and I quite can’t put my finger on it. She is unexpected, in every way, and I’m never sure what’s going to come out of her mouth. She keeps me on my toes. I’ve had a few relationships in the past, and even though I think we’re mostly having fun, there is no denying she managed to make a spot for herself in my life very quickly. It’s not just sex either. Yesterday was spent in bed, and all we did was watch Star Wars. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around that one. I spent an entire Sunday in bed with a chick and nothing happened apart from the occasional peck. I like it when she wears my clothes, I like it when she takes forever in the bathroom then comes out with a small sheepish smile, looking so damn pretty it fucking hurts.

  And I like her on the back of my bike. I am taking her to Woodward park. The weather is unusually warm, even for the San Joaquin Valley. We’ve been lucky this year and didn’t need to park the bikes at all except for a bad day or two.

  We find a nice spot by the lake and, since it’s a weekday, it’s quiet. Abby spreads a blanket on the ground as I unpack our picnic. It’s a little after one, and we are both famished, especially after the ride. The wind in your face opens up your appetite like nothing else.

  Well, sex is pretty efficient too and our celebratory “period is over” quickie right before we left didn’t help.

  Not that I’m complaining. If anything, we’d still be going at it right now if it was up to me, but I promised to take her on a ride. We had like maybe four days of sex before her cycle screwed us up. These were great days, though. A+ sex. I’m quite happy we can get back to it now, but periods really suck, especially since she is all squeamish about it. I wouldn’t mind, but the way she looked at me when I offered told me that my balls were in danger of being chopped off. So, I settled on bringing her a hot water bottle and a chocolate bar, because it is apparently survival 101 for men in those situations.

  “When’s your birthday?” she asks out of the blue as I’m polishing off my second sandwich.

  “March 1st,” I reply with my mouth full.

  “You’ll be 32, right?”

  I nod. I already know she is turning 29 on July 21st.

  We haven’t talked about us. We decided to be in an exclusive relationship with no end-date, but that’s about it. It makes me a little uneasy because even though it fits me just fine, I thought Abby would seek something a little more certain.

  I should be happy she’s satisfied with taking things a day at a time. I’m not and I think it’s because I don’t like having the impression that she doesn’t see any future for us.

  Not that I do either. But she isn’t like me. She is a planner, someone who never even had a hook-up before me and suddenly, she doesn’t seem to care. Maybe she just wants to take a ride on the wild side of life, and then go her merry way once she’s ready for something more stable?

  I don’t like that thought. It’s making me feel a little used, and I’m aware of how hypocritical it is of me.

  “I want a chocolate cake,” I say once my third sandwich is done.

  She smiles at me, but it seems a lit
tle distant.

  “Abby?”

  “Aaron,” she starts. She’s been calling me by my first name more and more. Surprisingly, I don’t mind. “Where are we heading?” she asks after a pause.

  Well, that will teach you feeling all conflicted over her casual attitude, a voice snarks in my head. I’m about to enter a minefield and if I say the wrong thing, I’m afraid she might try to murder me or, worse, cut my dick off.

  I rub the back of my neck as I try to find the right words. “Babe… I’m not good at-”

  “Relationships. I know. You told me.”

  “I like what we have.”

  “I like it too. But your world is different. And I know it’s weird.”

  “What is weird?”

  She huffs out a laugh. “Come on. You guys are either single, or in an open relationship, or have an old lady, am I right?”

  It’s a little simplistic but she’s not wrong.

  “You guys don’t have girlfriends,” she continues when I stay silent.

  She’s not wrong on that either.

  “And I’m living at the clubhouse, in your room, and we’re exclusive, but we’re not technically dating. I don’t know where I stan. Sometimes it feels like you might wake up one day, decide you’ve had enough and send me on my way.”

  It makes me a little uncomfortable to think about it that way, but she has a point. She isn’t part of the club. They welcomed her and most of them like her but at the end of the day, she doesn’t belong with us. The guys have no responsibility over her.

  But to claim a girl as an old lady? Man, that’s some serious shit. I’m not sure I’m ready or willing to go there. It’s almost like getting married for us.

  In the end, I avoid the topic. “Abby, I can’t promise you anything, because that’s just not how I roll. Except for one thing and I hope you can promise the same. Whenever we feel like we’re reaching the end of the road, we talk. We come clean. Is that OK with you?”

  She bites her lip and plays with the corner of the blanket. It feels like I’ve been looking at her forever when she finally lifts her head. “OK.”

  ***

  Abby

  I’m so screwed.

  I’m catching feelings.

  It was bound to happen. I’ve only been in serious relationships and even if some barely lasted a few weeks, it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve never really “hung around” with a guy. Not even in college. It’s just not in me.

  Just like it’s not in Aaron to commit.

  He gathers the remnants of our meal and throws them in a trashcan while I’m still deep in thought. The past two weeks have been amazing. Aaron, because yes, I’m calling him Aaron more and more, is quite honestly a great guy. I already knew that, of course, but it’s a certainty now. He’s sweet, patient, attentive, and fun. No wonder he is one of the girls’ favorites, as Lacy told me.

  Like right now. The weather is warm but there is still a chilliness lingering, and he made sure to pack an extra blanket for me. He wraps me up in it as he leans back against a tree trunk and pulls me in his arms. How on earth am I supposed to keep my heart firmly locked away when he is so gentle? I’m sprawled over his chest and his fingers are lacing through my hair. He does that a lot. He told me a few nights ago that my hair was the first thing he noticed when he saw me at The Hoose. It’s quite clear with the way he enjoys touching it.

  So, yes, it drives me nuts when I find facial hair in the sink when he grooms his scruff. But he also got me a hot water bottle when I had cramps, and he even made an emergency trip to the drugstore to get me tampons without blinking. He teases me all the time about my habit of taking pictures of everything I deem interesting - mostly him, to be honest - but he also offers to hold the camera when my arms are too short. I think I have about a hundred pictures of him, or of the two of us.

  He still hasn’t taken a single one of me, though. And as everyday goes by, it hurts more and more. I’m falling for him. Fast.

  And it’s one-sided.

  So, I have a choice. I cut things off, head back to Huntington and drown my heartbreak in ice cream.

  Or I make the most of it, live the experience to its fullest… and then head back to Huntington and drown my eventual heartbreak in ice cream.

  I should listen to my brain and leave, but I can’t. I’m a weak-ass woman who just discovered multiple orgasms can be the norm.

  “You’re thinking so hard, I can almost hear you,” he murmurs eventually in my hair.

  I smile a little because there is no way in hell I’ll ever share my thoughts with him. I have my pride and the man’s ego is big enough as it is. No need to let him know I’m enamored.

  “Just thinking about how my life right now is very different from what I expected it to be,” I answer non-committedly. I don’t want to talk about me, though. “Tell me about the Marines.”

  “You know that’s how I met Reese, right?”

  I nod. I like Reese. It took me days to be able to look him in the eye after our bathroom encounter, but he’s fun.

  “We did everything together. We often ended up in the same squads.”

  “Do you think you would have stayed best friends if you hadn’t joined the club too?”

  He hesitates. “Probably not. We would have been friends for sure, because we’re tight. But it wouldn’t have been the same.”

  “You told me you didn’t want to go for another tour. Did something happen?”

  His silence is long. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to leave him be or nudge him. I won’t lie, I’m curious, but I’m also aware it might not be easy to talk about it.

  “Yeah. Something happened. We were ambushed. It was my fault. I hesitated when I was told to shoot the target.”

  “Why?”

  “It was a kid,” he murmurs. “He had an explosive belt around him. By the time I got a grip over myself, it was too late. He blew himself up and killed two of my brothers. Reese was injured, got some shrapnel in his abdomen. Almost didn’t make it.”

  “I’m sorry. But you’re human, Aaron. Anyone would have a moment of doubt in those situations.” My words are empty, and I know it, but I’m too shocked to find something better to say. War is something so far away from everything I know, I never really stopped to consider how ugly it is. You see things and have to do things that are unthinkable for most people.

  “No, Abby. I should have followed the order right away. That’s what we do.”

  “What happened afterwards? Did they… did they blame you?”

  “No. It happened so fast, no one realized I hesitated. But I know I did. Maybe just two seconds, but these were two seconds too much. And two good men died because of that.”

  I straighten in his arms, enough to face him fully. My hand is on his cheek as I force him to meet my eyes. “War killed two men. Not you.”

  He stares at me, letting me see a part of him I never saw before. Gone is the carefree, teasing Apa, the mysterious and oh-so tempting biker. There are shadows in his eyes now, shadows that help me understand him a little bit better. I can sense why he joined the Sinners now. How he felt like the club would understand him.

  “Is that why you didn’t re-enlist?”

  “I couldn’t go back. Just the idea that I could be in that situation again... what if next time, I do shoot, and it turns out it really is just a kid? I couldn’t see myself unable to protect my brothers, and I also couldn’t see myself shooting kids. It was impossible for me to go back, no matter what.”

  I gently press a kiss on his lips, wishing I could find a way to make it all better. “It’s OK. You found the club. You’re good now, aren’t you?”

  He gazes down at me then pulls me back against his chest, his hand gentle on my head until my ear is above his heart. It’s strong, steady.

  “Yeah. I’m good now.”

  The park is quiet around us, there are only a few people by the lake and they’re far away. I like that he brought me here. I like that he just wanted to get me
alone. I like that he shared something so dark, that he felt like he could tell me. I wish he never had to go through anything like that because I can see he will probably struggle with what happened for the rest of his life, but I’m happy he found the club and they helped him with that.

  “Wanna know how Reese got his nickname?” he asks after a few minutes, his voice lighter now. My cocky biker is back, and I find myself smiling too.

  “Yes.”

  I’m so comfortable and warm that I soon find myself drifting off as he tells me about Reese’s allergy to peanuts that ruined a night of debauchery. I’m happy and content, despite a nagging voice telling me that this is just too good to be true.

  The voice is right, too. It’s when we head back to the clubhouse that everything starts falling apart.

  Chapter 17

  Abby

  I’m a bad girl on the way back. My hands are apparently very slippery and keep on falling on his crotch.

  I’m so clumsy.

  He pinches my thigh as we stop at a crossroad, and I’m still giggling when we pull into the clubhouse’s private road.

  I dismount first and get rid of the helmet while he parks the bike. As soon as he is done, he is on me and the next thing I know, I’m hanging over his shoulder.

  “Aaron!” I squeal as he makes his way up the stairs. “I’m too heavy!”

  He slaps my ass. Hard.

  “Ow!”

  “Quiet, woman.”

  Quiet, woman? Quiet, woman?! I’m going to give you some quiet woman!

  I bite whatever I can reach. Hard.

  The absolutely-not-manly yelp that escapes him sends me into another giggling fit.

  He’s laughing too as he walks inside the house. “Stop giggling,” he chuckles as his grip tightens over me. He puts me down once we’re inside, and I’m about to give him a piece of my mind for his caveman behavior when he plants a big fat one on me. It doesn’t last, but it’s enough to get my mind on something else.