Perfect Collision

by Lina Andersson

  -o0o—

  The minute I came through the door, I sat down and bawled my eyes out. There was just nothing that could make the night worse.

  I didn’t have a good reason for why I’d gone to the house. Troy, a guy who was a few years older than me, had asked me to come with him, and I did. I hardly knew him, didn’t particularly like him, but it was at least something new.

  It was something outside the club, which meant something that didn’t have anything to do with Mac.

  Obviously, Troy had been all over me the second we got there. I’d kind of expected him to be, but then I panicked. I might’ve thought about what could happen, but it wasn’t until I was standing there the full force of it hit me. He wouldn’t take me home, so I told him I needed to use the bathroom first. While I was in there with my phone in my hand, the only one I could think of calling was Mac. Dad would’ve just gone on a killing spree and the other guys… no. Mac seemed like a safe option, and I wasn’t even sure why I felt that way.

  Not even when I was safe at home, crying on the hallway floor, did I know why the thought of calling him had entered my mind. Or why I did.

  I shouldn’t want him to know I’d been to that house, but at the same time some sadistic part of me wanted him to know what he was doing to me. What he’d turned me into. I wasn’t sure I liked that part of myself.

  But he came for me, and he didn’t even hesitate, just asked me where I was. Then he started beating on Troy, and it scared me. That wasn’t why I’d called him; I really just wanted to go home.

  When he started yelling at me in the car, I’d realized how pissed he actually was, and… I kind of snapped at him. Which was bad, ‘cause he was right, he totally didn’t deserve that. But it hurt when he talked about finding a good guy. It hurt a lot, and I just threw myself out of the car to get away from him.

  No matter how much he’d hurt me, that was a pretty shitty thing to do. Maybe even calling him to begin with had been shitty, and I should thank him.

  Dad was big on that, making sure you thanked people who’d helped you, and it had been pounded it into my head. I could hear it as clearly as if he was sitting next to me.

  ‘Always thank those who help you or do you favors, Katze.’

  The thought of Dad made me cry again. I had no idea how to tell him about this.

  -o0o—

  When Bear walked through the door, he was slightly drunk, a little stoned, and pretty pissed. He still tried to move silently, since he assumed Vi was sleeping. He threw his keys in the bowl where they kept their keys.

  The bowl had been Mel’s idea. Both him and Vi had spent twenty minutes every morning for months trying to find their keys. Mel had suggested a bowl on a table in the hallway, and once they actually started remembering to put their keys into it, it had worked great.

  Standing in the hallway, staring at the bowl with Vi’s keys in it, he tried to calm down.

  Ella’d called, on a Saturday evening no less, and once again brought up the fact that he’d let Vi start as an apprentice at a tattoo shop, ‘ruining any chance she had of going to college.’

  He loved his youngest daughter, he’d rather rip out his heart than hurt her feelings, but you had to be fucking delusional to think she’d ever go to college. It was a fucking hassle to get her to read a menu for fuck’s sake!

  He tiptoed into Vi’s room to make sure she was sleeping, but when he opened the door the light was on, and she was sitting by her desk drawing.

  “Hey, Katze,” he said and took a few steps into her room. “What’s going on?”

  She looked at him with reddened eyes. “It’s pretty shit. Think you could make me some hot chocolate?”

  He pulled her out of the chair and was hugging her tight when he felt the first sobs rip through her body. “Oh, baby girl… what’s going on with you?”

  “Life,” she sniveled. “It’s sort of a bitch.”

  “Tell me about it,” he mumbled, and buried his nose into her hair. “No matter what’s up, I love you.”

  She looked up at him and gave him a shaky smile as he dried her cheeks. “Does that mean you’ll make me hot chocolate even if I’m not up for talking?”

  “Yeah. I’ll make you hot chocolate.”

  He watched her as they drank it. They talked, but not about what was really bugging her. He was starting to wonder if he maybe should try to get her to a shrink again, because something was really wrong. She’d been looking forward to her birthday and when it came along, she’d been moping around most of the evening and then asked him to go home. It didn’t seem like the best way to celebrate your eighteenth birthday, but he’d done as she asked and took her home.

  He wasn’t an idiot; he knew this had something to do with Mac, but had no idea what the fuck’d happened between the two of them, or how to help her. Initially, he’d thought that Vi might’ve made a move on Mac, but it didn’t seem likely. She was much too shy for that. No matter what the problem was, he couldn’t help her unless she talked to him, and it didn’t look as if she was going to.

  CHAPTER FIVE:

  Ready To Get Ready?

  -o0o—

  I WAS OUTSIDE MAC’S door. It had been two days since he came to help me, and I was once again mortally embarrassed, but I had to do this. I had to thank him and… apologize for not being nicer to him. He’d helped me, and I’d been pretty horrible.

  I hadn’t told anyone about my trip to the house. Not even Trixie. It was so stupid, and I didn’t want anyone to know how stupid I’d been. So no one knew—except Mac. I preferred to keep it that way. I didn’t think he’d tell anyone, but I wanted to make sure, and also I wanted to say thank you. I owed him that.

  After knocking, I looked down at the gift I had in my hand, and it hit me how damn corny it was—I had no fucking idea what I’d been thinking. While I considered just throwing it down the stairs and picking it up on my way back out, the door opened, and I stared between the gift in my hand and Mac standing in the doorway.

  “Hi…” I started.

  “Hi?”

  “I just came to say I’m sorry, really sorry, and you were great, and I won’t do that again. So… thank you… for helping me.” I swallowed. “So, yeah. That was it. I think.”

  With a nod I turned and started to leave, feeling sillier and more stupid than I’d been in my entire life. That’s when Mac finally spoke.

  “So the gift isn’t for me? Are you on a general ‘I’m sorry’ walkabout?”

  When I turned around, he smiled and pushed the door open wider.

  “Come on in.”

  I hesitantly walked past him into his apartment. It was a studio, but surprisingly big and quite nice. I’d been to some of the apartments belonging to the other singles in the club. Those had been rat holes, and Dad generally didn’t want me to stay for long without a tetanus shot.

  Mac’s place wasn’t, like, fancy, but he seemed to at least have made an effort. It was kinds of cozy. Very empty walls, though, and before I managed to stop myself, I opened my mouth.

  “It’s nice, could do a wall painting over there, that would be cool,” I said, pointing at the far wall, and then I bit down on my lower lip to shut up.

  “I’m pretty shit at painting,” he answered, but he smiled, and it wasn’t a condescending smile.

  “Yeah. Anyway—here.” I tried to hand him the gift, but he wouldn’t take it. “So, thank you, and I’m sorry I was an ass. It was really cool of you to help me, and I know you haven’t told Dad, since I’m here and not locked up at home.”

  He still wouldn’t take the gift, and finally I just put it down on kitchen island.

  “Vi, I think we need to talk.”

  “Can we not?” With a sigh I shoved my hands into my back pockets and finally looked at him. I’d been avoiding it, since looking at him always made my head spin and heart pound. “It’s just that every time we’ve done that lately, I cry, and I get a headache when I cry. If you just let me leave and… we’ll, like, never ta
lk again. I promise I won’t call you when I’m in trouble or anything like that.”

  “Fuck that!” he said with big eyes and took a step towards me. “You call me when you’re in trouble! You hear me?!”

  “Fine. It probably won’t happen again. It was the first time I was there, and I won’t go there again, so I probably won’t call you anymore.”

  “Vi, it’s not that I don’t want you. It’s that you’re not ready for this, and you’re—”

  “If you say ‘too young,’ I’ll scream! I’m not a kid—I’m eighteen!”

  I was so tired of hearing from him—from everyone—how I was too young! I knew how old I was, but I still knew how I felt about things. It pissed me off that my age somehow made my feelings invalid or less real to other people.

  “Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands in front of him to calm me down. “But it was never about you being underage. Even if you’re eighteen, you’re still six years younger than me, and I can’t. You’re not ready.”

  To my own surprise, I felt myself getting really pissed. It didn’t happen often, but I was about to snap.

  “How do you know what I’m ready for? I don’t even know what I’m ready for! But I know how I feel!”

  “Fuck’s sake, girl. You flinched before we even got the point where I consider stuff about to get started.”

  “So?!” I was screaming! I hardly ever did that, but it felt good, really good. A helluva lot better than crying. “The entire thing was, like, a complete surprise. You just kissed me, and I got a bit surprised when you shoved your dick against me. I mean, you had a hard-on from kissing me, and you called me beautiful, and I’d never… done that.”

  Towards the end I wasn’t screaming anymore. More whispering, which I assumed took the edge off what I was saying.

  “Never done what?”

  I probably shouldn’t have admitted that, and I hoped I could get him to think about something else.

  “It doesn’t matter. Point is, you don’t know what I’m ready for.” I was working myself up to the screaming again. Unfortunately, he figured it out.

  “Jesus fucking christ, you’d never even kissed anyone before?”

  “No, I hadn’t. So fucking sorry I’m not some wanton whore so you’d bother with me. And if all guys are like you, no one will ever bother, since apparently you all know better than me what I’m ready for.”

  “You’re not ready for it, I know you’re not. I’ve had sex for almost a decade, and I know you’re not ready for a lot of things!”

  “Stop fucking saying that!”

  I did the math. Almost a decade?! That’s ten years! He’d been having sex since he was fourteen or fifteen! That was so fucking unfair. He kept telling me I wasn’t ready, and by the time he was my age he’d been at it for years! I wasn’t ready, and he wasn’t going to do anything about it, then when the fuck would I be able to get ready? I wasn’t even jailbait anymore and… he what? Wanted me to go fuck someone less experienced to get ready? That didn’t make any sense at all. I didn’t even know where to start with my protests and just kept yelling,

  “Stop telling me what I’m ready for or not!”

  “Okay. You wanna know what I wanna do with you?” he screamed, and I responded in kind.

  “Yes!”

  “I wanna pull down those shorts, plant your ass on that counter and fuck you blue. Then I’ll take off the rest and continue to the bed over there. I wanna lick your pussy till you scream, and I would also love to shove my dick into that perfect mouth of yours. And girl, that’s just a fraction of the things I’ve fantasized about doing with you. So don’t think for a fucking second that I don’t want you!”

  His rant made me realize a few things. The first was that he was really good at screaming, and his voice sounded great when he did. The second, that he’d been fantasizing about me, too! The third, that my own fantasies about touching his dick and listening to him moan were extremely fucking childish. Finally the fourth, I was crying again.

  -o0o—

  Of all the stupid fucking things he could’ve said to her, that had to been at the top of the list. And he’d made her cry again. Awesome.

  Her tear-filled eyes boldly met his, though. He liked that, and preferred it to her avoiding his eyes. She’d screamed at him, too, which had been a lot better than her usual mumbling.

  He’d been surprised when he opened the door and saw her. It took a lot of guts to come by after what went down that night, and she’d brought him a gift, which was really sweet of her.

  He liked having her in his apartment, and had smiled when she’d said the thing about a wall painting. Her entire visit, from the fact that she’d come at all, to the situation they were in at that moment, had been surprising.

  Then she really knocked the wind out of him, like she so often did. She took a deep breath, still eyeing him.

  “No. I’m not ready for that yet, but one day I will be, and I would’ve liked to get ready with you.”

  He gasped. Jesus Mary motherfucker! He couldn’t believe she’d just said that.

  The thought of her being ready and with someone else—he didn’t even want to think about it. Especially not after seeing her with that fuckface mohawk.

  She was right, though. Just because she wasn’t ready didn’t mean he couldn’t get her there if he was careful and patient. Considering his only relief at the moment was jerking off, it wouldn’t be all that different.

  There were obviously some major problems involved. Like the possibility her dad might kill him if he found out, or his own dad killing him. There were quite a few other members that might kill him, too.

  But she was eighteen and… yeah, her age wasn’t the issue. It was never just about her being jailbait. Bear didn’t give a fuck about the law and what it said. This was about Vi being his girl, and Bear didn’t want his virgin, innocent girl with a six-years-older biker.

  What really dawned on him was that no matter what pro or con arguments he might have for trying something with her, he didn’t want her with anyone else. No fucking way! But he couldn’t keep her hanging. He either did this now, or he let her go telling her it would never happen.

  They were still staring at each other, and then he decided. He walked up to her and wiped her cheeks with his thumbs. He’d made her cry again. He stroke the tip of his thumb along her lower lip. He couldn’t believe how full her lips were. Or what he was about to do.

  “Sure you’re ready for that?”

  Her full lips turned into a shy smile. “Ready to get ready?”

  “Yeah,” he laughed. “Ready to get ready.”

  He was trying to figure out how the hell he could do this without completely fucking her up in the process. He lifted her up to sit on the kitchen island. That way she was almost eye to eye with him.

  This could be a snake pit of problems, and he needed to make sure he didn’t push her in any way. He also needed to make sure this was the real thing, not just her… crushing on him. Once he knew that, he’d talk to Bear. There was no fucking way he’d sneak around with this for long, but he wanted them to figure a few things out before he took that step. She was still looking at him, and he held her cheeks.

  “You’re sure?” he asked her, and she nodded. “Then listen carefully. I’m not gonna ask permission for every little thing I do. If I do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, bad, or just anything but good—you say ‘Bear.’ No matter what the situation is or where we are, you say that, and we stop and figure it out.”

  Hearing her dad’s name should get him out of any horny fucking daze he was sure to end up in.

  “You want me to say Dad’s name?” she asked with a confused expression and dried off her last remaining tears.

  “Yeah. That’ll stop me, and you can tell me what I did wrong, or we can try to figure it out together.” He gave her lips a light kiss. “And if say ‘break’ you stop moving.” He was probably gonna need that, or he might come in his pants or just lose it.


  She nodded and then put her arms around his neck. She looked nervous. Really nervous.

  “One more thing,” he said and gently moved his hands to stroke her hips with his thumbs. “Would you paint that wall for me?”

  She looked stunned at first, and then she gave him the huge smile he’d known she would.

  “You’d let me do that?”

  “You’re the only artist I know, Katze.”

  Her arms around his neck pulled him closer, and he kissed her. Fuck! He’d missed her mouth, her sweet taste, and tongue. He slowly ran his hands up her sides underneath her t-shirt, and she had the softest skin he’d ever felt.

  The best way of doing this, getting her ready, was probably to take it slower than she’d like to begin with, to get her used to it. Then he’d let her set the pace once she was comfortable with him.

  His hands went over her ribs till they met the lower edge of her bra, and he stopped there. He held his hands still while he kept kissing her, tasting her, and feeling her tongue circling his. He was already mind-blowingly horny. She scooted closer and wrapped her legs around his hips. He couldn’t fucking believe her.

  He slowly stroked the underside of her breasts. With a moan she pulled him closer, which meant he pressed his already very hard dick against her. She didn’t flinch this time, just made another one of those amazing moans.

  This time, he decided, they were going to keep their clothes on. There would be no taking clothes off, just some making out before he took her home, and then jerked off—most likely twice. That was the plan until his thumbs felt her nipples underneath the bra, and they both stopped moving at the same time.

  “Fuck,” he said and leaned back. It didn’t seem likely, but he was pretty sure he’d felt it. “Is that a piercing?”

  “Yeah,” she said in an exhale with her eyes still closed. “Please don’t stop. I know I froze, but please don’t stop.”

  He started circling her nipples, and she moaned. When he carefully licked her lips, she didn’t even seem to notice it. He kissed and nibbled his way down her jaws to her chin, licked her dimple, and carefully pushed until she tilted her head back.