It hardly did!
"Did he take advantage of you... did he try anything funny?" continued my b.f.
Only a prude like Colby would describe how Blaze had entrapped and induced and seduced me as "funny".
"I didn't feel taken advantage of, no," I replied.
"What does that mean?! Did he kiss you??" shouted Colby.
"Yes, he put his tongue in my mouth!!" I blurted, sick of my boyfriend's jealousy act and no longer caring if I hurt him.
"Where? Where did he kiss you?" quivered Colby, his voice shaking and on edge.
"Well we weren't standing up, if that's what you're asking," I said bluntly.
Colby's eyes about bugged out of his head.
"So you slept with him. On your first date! This guy is probably wanted for murder in five different states, and you freaking slept with him!!"
"Well, if you really must know, we didn't do much sleeping..." I replied.
My boyfriend was having a hard time finding the words.
"Were you naked?" he asked, sounding half-hopeful I hadn't been.
I didn't know whether to chuckle or roll my eyes or just be plain pissed.
"Of course I was naked. He didn't fuck me through a hole in the sheet!!" I said angrily.
I wondered how far he was planning to go with these questions.
"Harley..."
"Yes?"
"Did he make you… come?"
"That's none of your business!" I snapped, appalled by him feeling he had any right to know.
"How many times?" continued Colby.
"What?" I replied, frankly shocked by his gall.
Colby's voice was low and intense.
"You heard me. How many..."
"At least four," I responded, grabbing my stuff to go.
"I just want to know why, Harley. Why?" demanded Colby, grabbing me by the elbow.
"I think it's pretty obvious why. I'm just sorry I didn't do it sooner," I told him.
"Er, break up with you, that is."
I felt a little wistful as I got up and walked out the door, I'm not gonna lie. Ten years with Colby wasn't just anything, even if many of those years had been mired with disappointment.
But then I remembered Blaze. His bed. His cock. How he'd made me beg for it. Over and over and over.
I had the night off, but I figured I'd head down to the bar, anyway, just to hang out.
Maybe someone I know will come in… I thought lustfully.
#####
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In Bed with a Badass
Copyright 2014 by Sarah Sethline
SYNOPSIS: Avril is one of "those" girls -- the kind who sleeps around, gets bored easily, and isn't looking for a commitment. She's made a game out of being with every type of guy: The Nerd, The Gamer, The Christian Grey. But out of all the men she's been with, none have been able to satisfy her quite like Blane has.
He's not just a badass. He's not just a great fuck. He's her knight in shining leather... and he's come to steal her heart away.
This 10,000+ word novella contains graphic language, adult themes and scorching hot lovin', not just with The Badass, but his entire MC!
***************
When it comes to dating guys, I guess you could say that I like to experiment. Most women try to claim it's just one man they're after -- a man to take vows with, to share a home with, to have babies with -- and when they inevitably get all of that, it always ends the same. She ends up taking him for granted (or vice versa), and the illusion they worked so hard to create together crumbles.
For years, I've been watching friends run themselves ragged in pursuit of one very specific type of guy and one very specific type of life. Studying them made me determined to never be like that -- to be tied down, to settle. Just thinking about the regret I would feel 10 years into a marriage going nowhere has always been enough to give me chills.
While I can definitely comprehend the potential merits of a life shared with one singular person, let's face it -- most of the so-called benefits rarely live up to one's expectations.
That person who is supposed to be your "best friend"? They can become your enemy in an instant, over the pettiest of issues. Couples can be familiar with all the Dr. Phil techniques in the world, yet still be unable to communicate for shit.
If you were to question anyone in this podunk town on what they considered my final fate to be, I don't doubt most would tell you, "Oh, Avril's a good girl at heart. She's just going through a phase. She'll settle down one day, you'll see."
But they'd be wrong.
You see, it's not just that I like to experiment when it comes to men; I'm literally on a mission to date every kind. Those articles you see in women's magazines -- "Five Men to Date, Not Marry"; "10 Guys You Shouldn't Take Home to Mom" -- those are like gospel to me.
I really feel life's too short to stay tied down to just one type of personality. A personality that can actually change for the worse the longer you're with someone. Experiencing various men truly serves to broaden my horizons on so many different levels.
Especially in the sack.
So far, I've dated and/or fucked: The Nerd, The Gamer, The Emo, The Christian Grey, and The Jock. A sizable chunk of the type of men I would consider to be on my "bucket list", with one key exclusion: The Badass.
Yep. That's right, I'll admit it; like any weak-in-the-knees female, I'm a sucker for a hardcore bad boy. I think it boils down to biology, really -- the need to feel protected. And who better to protect me than a ripped, rugged mass of pure testosterone... a chiseled Adonis of unfiltered aggression?
Alas, such a specimen, thus far, had alluded me. You don't find many rebels dripping of pure sex in podunk towns, after all. My dream of losing all control and being dominated in bed really seemed like it would remain just that -- a dream.
That is, until the day my knight in shining leather rode in on his hog...
***************
Usually I'm the one on patrol for my next conquest; very rarely do men approach me. I think it's because they're aware of my racy history (people talk) and are intimidated. It might also have to do with the fact that as I get older, the pool of available guys gets smaller, as more and more succumb to settling down.
A deep restlessness was definitely stirring inside me when I decided to stretch my legs during a walk that fine May morning. Every part of my body felt needy, calling out for something that -- thus far -- couldn't be found in Petite, Oklahoma.
Particularly my pussy.
I hadn't been paying very much attention to my surroundings up until that point, meandering fairly aimlessly, just enjoying the feel of the sun on my face. All of that changed the second I heard a noticeable rumble in the distance. It was growing both louder and closer, making quick work of tightening the gap between us.
Just as I felt the urge to glance behind me, a big blur of metal and black whipped past me, tousling my hair wildly and warming my body with a distinct mechanical heat. I stared in wonder as this chiseled piece of machinery sped away in front of me, carrying an even more chiseled man.
The sounds the Harley was making were echoing down the entire street, as if commanding it with their dominance. I could feel the vibrations being emitted from the hog shaking through my body, rocking me to my core. Just being in the passing presence of something so powerful had me quivering from head to toe.
To my amazement, I watched the motorcycle turn on a dime and start to circle back around, the sexy stranger and I now face-to-face, though still several paces apart. As his muscular form came into better focus, I noticed he wasn't just a man on a motorcycle, but a biker on a bike. And he was beginning to slow his speed, almost as if he were going to stop!
Sure enough, a few seconds later, the biker's powerful horse roared to a halt as he pulled up right beside me, causing me to stop instinctively in my tracks. I was now able to make out every inch of this mysteri
ous, dangerous rebel, and god, did I like what I saw.
His hair was dark and flowing, on the long side and left to hang free. It wasn't so long as to warrant the use of a ponytail like with other bikers, but had enough of a length to it to manage one of those sexy hair flips as he slipped off his helmet.
Fuck, how I wanted to run my hands through it...
With his helmet off, I could make out his face now, and it completely shattered my assumptions of how a biker "should" look. This guy wasn't old, or fat, or bearded, or even very greasy -- he had damn-near model features, in fact.
I watched as his wandering eyes scanned the length of my own body, studying my curves with a hunger, a hunger that excited me. Other girls might have felt violated when his gaze lingered on my tits, thinly veiled behind my almost see-through top... but really, his admiration thrilled me.
When he finally lifted his strong, dreamy eyes to meet mine, they stole my heart in an instant.
"Not bad, baby," he grunted, casting my body a quick nod of appreciation.
"Not bad at all."
Somehow finding the courage, I said defiantly, "I'm not a piece of meat, you know!"
Who was I kidding? I totally wanted to be HIS piece of meat.
"I'm... I'm Avril," I said more coyly, my eyes running the length of the powerful machine that sat between this man's legs.
"That's French for 'April'."
"Blane," grunted the biker.
"That's nothing for I don't give a damn."
I knew I should have been taken aback by his brazenness, but instead it intrigued me.
"Are-- are you new in town?" I gathered the courage to ask, secretly hoping that he was here to stay.
"Just passing through," he replied with a grumble, quickly crushing my world of possibilities.
"Well, that's not entirely true..." I said with a lustful smirk, lightly tracing a hand down my décolletage.
"You stopped, didn't you?"
Blane gave me a sexy, knowing smile, appearing pretty pleased with me egging him on.
"How 'bout you, baby? You from around here?"
I loved hearing him call me "baby".
"Sadly, yes. No riding the open roads for me," I told Blane.
"But... I try to find excitement where I can."
I reached out and gave one of his tight guns a good squeeze, shocking myself.
"Good to know, baby. Good to know. I like my women like I like my bike: hot, fast, and trembling between my legs."
Oh, god. I was trembling between my legs just hearing him say it!
"You ever been on one of these bad boys?" he asked.
Blane was referring to the beautiful piece of machinery sitting under his tight, leather-clad ass, but I couldn't help but notice the double entendre.
I shook my head slowly, nervously.
"Well there's a first time for everything, baby. Get on; I'll show ya what you've been missing."
I could feel my own natural heat starting to radiate throughout my pussy. Here he was, The Badass -- the sexual experience I'd been searching for long and hard... Granted, there was no guarantee that by climbing onto the back of his bike, I'd soon be climbing into his bed... but the opportunity was there, no doubt.
Despite my growing lust, I still felt apprehensive about hopping right on. Mama always said not to get into cars with strange men -- and I'm pretty sure climbing onto the back of a motorcycle counted. Blane was most definitely a strange man, and by the looks of it, a dangerous one at that.
"I don't... I don't think I should," I tried to protest, struggling to maintain some semblance of better judgment.
Blane twisted on the bike's handlebars, revving its engine. I think to show me just how powerful it really was. The sound made me jump in my skin and shot bolts of excitement straight to my groin. My pussy was flushing with heated arousal; my most sensitive bits swollen and wet.
"C'mon, baby. Don't be like that," grunted the sex god, his strong grasp finding its way to the underside of my chin.
Tilting my face up, he continued, "I promise to make it the ride of your life."
Maybe I was just hearing what I wanted to hear, but it really sounded like he was implying something more... something sexual. Something that I wanted more than anything, even if others found it wrong.
A shy smile crept across my lips, my mind made up.
"You better," I replied seductively, approaching the back of Blane's bike tentatively but determined.
Blane slid forward in his seat just enough to make room for me to squeeze in. I hesitated for a moment or two upon reaching the start of the metal casing. I was about to put myself at risk for I-didn't-even-know what.
I suppressed that inner voice of warning, the part of me that "knew better". I was catering to a much more primal voice now.
As I slipped that first leg over the side of the hog, a thrill like no other coursed through my body, and I found myself having to grab onto one of Blane's taut shoulders to steady myself. As I lowered into the bike's hot leather seat, I couldn't help but notice my legs were now spread wide open... and that my pussy had no place to go other than to be pressed into the biker's lower back.
"Hold tight, baby," he growled, taking my arms and commanding them to wrap around his broad, muscular chest.
I was careful not to touch the cut emblazoned on his black leather jacket, knowing there'd be hell to pay if I didn't give it the respect it was due.
"Sweetest Poison MC?" I stupidly read aloud, as if I had any right to know one-tenth of a fraction of his business.
"Doesn't concern you, baby," said Blane over his shoulder, turning his head to give a quick spit on the ground.
"Now hang on."
I instinctively tightened my grip around Blane's hard body, a grip that got even tighter the faster we went along. I'd never been more scared or more aroused in all my life, racing through what few streets my town had, clutching on for dear life to what can only be described as sex-on-a-stick. My heart was throbbing, hanging on to this heartthrob.
I loved feeling the wind dancing through my hair, the vibrations from the hog throttling my desire. My pussy felt so warm and needy, grinding into the small of Blane's slightly bent back.
Blane's body was so solid and muscular; it made me feel safe to be clinging to it, even though I was in a very unsafe position. It felt so daring, racing through the streets, leaving the homes of my friends and family in the dust.
Fifteen minutes into our ride, Blane suddenly veered off the main street and began to follow a gravel road, putting us into parts I didn't recognize. He seemed to know where he was going, though, even if it didn't look like much.
Eventually things became clearer as we pulled up alongside what appeared to be an abandoned motel. Blane's bike came to a smooth stop as the engine died down.
"We're here, baby," he said as he swung his strong right leg over the hog.
Where was "here"? I wondered.
Blane surprised me by immediately reaching for my waist to lift me off his bike. My eyes locked onto his, infatuated, as he softly set me down.
I loved feeling his hands on my body, even if only for a moment.
I craved more.
Blane moved behind me to put the bike's kickstand down with his leather boot. I couldn't keep my eyes off him even as he performed the most mundane of actions; I was mesmerized.
Taking me by the wrist, he grunted, "C'mon, baby."
I followed dutifully behind him, unsure of where I was being led and for what purpose.
When Blane directed me to one of the motel's private, bottom-floor rooms, I wasn't sure if I was in for the worst... or the best. Red flags were surely flying somewhere, yet at the same time, I truly felt like I could trust him.
"Get yourself comfortable," directed Blane once we'd crossed over the wooden threshold and secluded ourselves away.
"I gotta take a leak."
I went over to sit down on the motel's drabby-looking bed, apprehensive but excited. As I eased myself
into a sitting position, I suddenly noticed that my body felt rather sore.
I'd been clinging to Blane so tightly on the bike, I must have overworked my muscles.
From where I sat, I quickly realized I had a perfect shot of the room's open bathroom... and Blane handling his cock in it. I tried doing the respectful thing by looking the other way -- I really did -- but it was so big and powerful, it couldn't help but get caught in my peripheral vision.
Royal S.O.B. (A Bad Boy Romance) Page 27