Rebellious

by Gillian Archer

  “You mean you asked Jessica.” I shook my head as a goofy grin swept over my face. “I love it.”

  “I know.” Reb nuzzled the side of my neck. His scruff abraded my skin, causing a chain reaction that had my nipples tightening into a throbbing ache. “Let’s take her for a spin, then you can show me your appreciation if you’re feeling like you’re in a giving mood.”

  “Reb.” I sighed. “I can’t accept a brand-new car. I know how much Audis go for. You could’ve bought a truck for the same amount of money. And that looks like a custom paint job.”

  “It is. Custom paint, custom interior, souped-up engine. Only the best for my baby.”

  “I can’t accept it. It’s crazy—we’ve only been dating for a few weeks. Hell, I can’t afford the taxes to register this car, let alone the monthly payment.”

  Reb took me by the arm and led me around to the driver’s side. “You have to accept it.”

  “I don’t have to do anything.” I pushed his hand away. Now he was starting to piss me off. I was feeling so ungrateful, but this was too much. A car? Really?

  “Yeah. You don’t.” Reb scrubbed the heal of his hand against the back of his head. His short-sleeve shirt rode up, exposing his taut abs, which, along with the flexing biceps over his head, momentarily distracted me. “But I don’t know what else you’re gonna do because your old car is currently a cube at the junkyard.”

  I blinked away from my brief fantasy of his muscular, naked body. “Wait, what?”

  “You heard me.” He smashed his hands together, made a mock grinding noise, then smiled maliciously. “Crushed to smithereens.”

  “Seriously, Reb? How could you? That was my car. The only car I had. And you didn’t even ask me.”

  “Didn’t see the point. You’d just refuse and want to drive your pile of shit for another ten years. This way I get the peace of mind that you’re safe, especially when you’re driving Tucker around, and you get to drive your dream car. Everyone wins.”

  “You get your way, you mean.”

  “Because I want to take care of you!” he roared. The veins in his neck stood out in sharp relief as his eyes lit with his anger. “Why is that so hard for you to accept?”

  “Because this isn’t you taking care of me, Reb. This is you controlling me. You make the decisions. You bought a new car and crushed my old one without a word of input from me. How do you think that makes me feel?”

  “How do you think it makes me feel when you throw this shit back in my face? I spent days researching the right kinda car with all the best features and customizing it for you. And I don’t even get a fucking thank-you.”

  “I-I-I-I’m sorry,” I whispered. “It’s just too much. I can’t let you do stuff like this for me. I have to be able to stand on my own two feet and support myself.”

  “Why? You’re not alone. I’m here. I want to do this for you. I lo—” He shook his head and coughed awkwardly. “It tears me up to watch you busting your hump working two fucking jobs and bumming rides because that piece-of-shit ex of yours screwed up your life. Again. I can do this for you, so let me.”

  I sighed as I looked into his determined face. He wasn’t going for the sad puppy dog expression. But then, Reb wasn’t that guy. He was tough. And he loved fiercely. I’d seen it with Tucker, and I had a feeling that was what he was going to say before he trailed off. Lord knew I’d felt it often enough in his bed. And on the sofa. And the floor. And that one time in the bathtub…Wow, could that man handle a detachable showerhead.

  “So what do you say? Are we good? You ready to take her for a spin?”

  I quickly swallowed the sudden pooling of saliva in my mouth from my trip down memory lane. I had no doubt that my face was bright red, given how warm I suddenly felt. And the twinkling in Reb’s eyes told me he knew exactly what I was thinking.

  “Fine. But I’m paying the registration, and you’re letting me help out on the monthly payments.”

  “I think the words you’re looking for are: Thank you, Reb.”

  I dipped my head in chagrin. “Yes. I’m sorry. Thank you, Reb.” I crossed the distance between us and cupped his cheek in my hand. “I am sorry. I acted like an ungrateful brat. I know. I do love the car. It’s gorgeous.”

  Reb looked down at me with that smug expression on his face. “She.”

  “What?”

  “Cars are inherently female. Because they’re gorgeous, occasionally temperamental, and cost a shit ton of money.”

  “Oh my God.” I slapped his arm. “That is the most misogynistic thing I’ve ever heard you say! You better not be teaching Tucker that crap.”

  “Misogyn-what now?”

  “Antiwoman. Tucker shouldn’t grow up hearing stuff like that.”

  “Yes, dear.” Reb smirked. “Let’s take your car for a spin now.”

  I sighed. “Okay. And you never answered about the registration and payments.”

  Reb ambled around the car and opened the passenger door. “That’s because it’s already paid for and registered.” He slid inside the car and shut the door before I could reply.

  “Reb!” I ripped open the door all ready to lay into him, but I got distracted by the dazzling array of dials, the buttery soft leather seats, and that welcoming new-car smell. I sank into the seat and sighed with pure bliss. “I love it.”

  “Her.” Reb leaned across the center console, his lips hovering millimeters above mine.

  “Her,” I whispered back to him, then closed the distance. We kissed for what felt like an hour. Until my nipples were aching for something more. Until I was seriously worried for the car’s interior, given how wet I was. Finally I broke the kiss and leaned my head against the headrest.

  Reb collapsed into his seat. A large, visible bulge strained his jeans. “Let’s get this show on the road, so we can park somewhere and try out the backseat.”

  “There’s no way you and me are fitting into that tiny backseat. Besides, we don’t have time. Jessica and Zag’s bachelor and bachelorette parties start soon.”

  “Fuck that. You can’t send me to a strip club like this.” He nodded at his lap.

  “So you’d hook up with a stripper just because I left you with a hard-on?”

  “I didn’t say that. I’m not screwing anyone else. We’re exclusive, right? You’re my old lady.”

  I ignored the “old” reference. I’d hung around with Jessica and Zag enough to get a handle on some of the lingo. “Yeah, we’re exclusive.”

  I ducked my head and smiled. I felt like I was in fourth grade and Greg Visoc had just asked me “to go out.” Silly. Childish. And so close to another feeling I hadn’t glimpsed in a really long time. Something I was scared to think too hard about because it made me feel incredibly vulnerable.

  “Good,” Reb grunted. “So let’s test out that backseat now. No way am I going to a strip club with a stiffy.”

  “We barely have time for a test drive. We can’t get naked now.”

  Reb growled.

  I laughed evilly. “I guess you’re finally rubbing off on me.”

  “We’ll discuss later who’s rubbing what off where.”

  “Touché.” I put my foot on the brake and pressed the start button. The motor immediately gave a sweet, soft roar followed by a low purr. No keys required. “Oh, wow. That’s awesome.”

  “Let’s get this show on the road. I bet we can squeeze a quickie in if we really try.”

  I rolled my eyes even as a huge grin swept over my face. “Sex is never quick with you.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  But I was right. We didn’t even get two miles down the road before Reb’s phone rang. He looked at the screen, then hit the ignore button. Not even five seconds later it rang again. Reb sighed in defeat as he answered the call. “Someone better be dead or dying.”

  I muffled my laughter as I gripped the steering wheel and put my new car through its paces. But I was willing to only go so fast on the dirt-covered back ro
ads. I couldn’t wait until I could get this baby on a deserted section of Nevada freeway. Although judging from the way Reb’s phone call was going, it wasn’t gonna be right now.

  Reb ended the call and huffed in irritation. “You gotta take me back to the house. Shit’s going down that I gotta take care of. Goddammit!”

  I winced in sympathy. Reb wasn’t the only one feeling the pain—I wouldn’t have minded getting a little before the parties tonight. So instead I clung to the steering wheel, took my foot off the gas, and whipped the car around. Rocks kicked up in my wake, and I hooted with laughter. “Damn, this car can handle.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Reb crashed into the door, then shot me a look. “Since when did you turn into such a risk taker?”

  “Right about the time I hooked up with you. You might want to buckle up. The ride back’s gonna be a quick one.” A grin took over my face as I mashed down the gas pedal.

  Rather than being irritated, Reb’s grin rivaled mine. “Fuck yeah. Let’s do it, baby.”

  The afternoon didn’t end the way I’d imagined but it was the most entertaining three minutes I’d had while wearing my clothes in a long time.

  —

  Three hours later, changed and ready for the party, I screeched to a stop at the valet stand at the Pay Dirt Casino. The empty stretch of freeway had been a thrilling ride before I found all the traffic. My pulse was still pumping as I tossed the key fob at the waiting attendant and took a ticket in exchange.

  I don’t know where this thrill-seeking streak of mine came from, but I was having a blast. And tonight was definitely the night to let loose. While Zag and the guys were holed up at the Honey Pot, a local strip club renowned for their crazy girls and crazier shows, Nicole had decided to host Jessica’s bachelorette party in a suite at Pay Dirt. I’d tried to talk her out of it—I knew Jessica didn’t want a private party—but Nicole was adamant. Rooms were actually more affordable at the Mother Lode Casino, but Jessica didn’t want to party at the place she worked—the only input Nicole allowed her to have.

  I was nervous about what kind of insanity Nicole had concocted. All I knew was that I had to dress to kill. I hoped my miniskirt and plunging neckline fit the dress code. Because Nicole rarely liked my fashion sense, and I wasn’t changing—no matter how much she nagged me.

  Making my way through the windy casino floor, I ignored the bells and whistles of the slots and the cheering around the table games. My eyes were glued to the signs pointing the way to the Tower rooms. It took forever, and my feet were already killing me in my four-inch heels, but I finally found the room. I knocked, then after a beat I pulled out my phone to double-check the room number, but before I could turn on my phone the door opened, revealing Nicole.

  “False alarm. It’s just Emily.”

  “Nice to see you, too,” I replied sarcastically.

  “What took you so long? Come in. Damn, girl, you cleaned up good. Reb let you out of his sight dressed like that?”

  I walked into the room and instantly felt better about my outfit. “Thank you. And no, he didn’t. I ducked out before he was done with whatever business he was taking care of tonight, so he didn’t see me. I love your dress. Is it new?”

  “Got it special for tonight. Wanted to look my best. Fat lot of good it did, though.” Nicole ran a hand over her tight black dress. It was molded over her every curve and looked amazing. Although it did clash with the bright pink dildo necklace she wore.

  “Well, you look awesome. I really love what it does for your eyes.” I paused and looked around the room. Every surface was gilded in gold. Tacky gold. It looked like the eighties had puked all over the hotel room. Oh my God. We’d all chipped in for the room and there was no way I was staying here tonight—I’d need sunglasses to be able to fall asleep. I cleared my throat. “Uh, is Jessica here yet?”

  “Yeah, she’s just—”

  “Right here, bitches!” Jessica swung out of the bathroom holding on to the door. The momentum pulled her over and she came within kissing distance of the floor. After an overlong beat, she swayed, then stood mostly upright. Although given the way she wavered, it looked like she was standing on a waterbed.

  Nicole tucked a strand of curly brown hair behind her ear and rolled her eyes. “Jessica started the party earlier today with some of the MC old ladies, so she’s feeling no pain.”

  “You can say that again.” I watched in amusement as Jess weaved her way to the platform that displayed the oversized king bed I hadn’t noticed earlier. And also where a few women seemed to be passed out. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I tried, but you never picked up. Where the hell have you been? I got the pleasure of wrangling drunk MC bitches for the past three hours. Didn’t you get any of my texts today?”

  “What?” I tried to turn my phone on but got the flashing low-battery signal instead. “Dang it. My phone’s dead. I’m so sorry, Nicole. I had no idea. If I’d known, I’d’ve—”

  “You’re like twelve drinks behind, Em!” Jessica shrieked from her throne of pillows on the bed. “Come over here, chica! You gotta catch up.”

  I widened my eyes at Nicole, but she just shrugged. “Welcome to the party. Jess, pass that bottle of champagne this way. I’m losing my buzz!”

  “So I’m guessing we’re not going to the show downstairs?” We had tickets to some risqué cabaret show at midnight, although given the number of women already passed out I doubted we’d ever make it downstairs.

  Nicole was already chugging from the champagne bottle and surrounded by three screaming ladies.

  Great. The guys were supposed to meet up with us there later, and I’d been looking forward to having a drunk and horny night later with Reb. Liquor and gyrating mostly nude women in his company would’ve been fun. And a first. Not to mention that the cost of the ticket set me back more money than I should’ve spent.

  I shook off my bad mood and joined in the festivities. A few drinks really helped me let loose and enjoy the fun. I joined in on the mock blow-job competition. Sitting next to Brittany, I was super impressed with her skills. Plus she seemed to be the most sober one in the room, aside from me. While the other ladies were busy lining up shots, I leaned over and asked Brittany a question that had been burning at the back of my brain for the longest time.

  “So have you ever, you know, with a guy who was”—my voice dropped to a whisper—“pierced?”

  Brittany’s shoulders jerked, but after a second she turned and looked at me with a suspiciously straight face. Suspicious due to the twinkle in her eyes and how twitchy the corners of her mouth were. “Nope. I’ve only ever been with Stitch. Together over twenty years.”

  “Oh.”

  “But I’ve seen things.”

  I bit my lip. I bet she had. I’d only been with Reb a few weeks, and I’d seen things, too.

  Brittany tossed an arm around my shoulder and a cloud of tequila enveloped us both when she spoke again. “But you know who could help you out? Nicole. That girl could hoover chrome off a bumper. Did you see what she did to that banana? Nicole. Nicole! Get over here, girl. Ms. Emily needs some help.”

  “No. Really, it’s okay. I don’t want…” Everyone to stare at me, which was exactly what they were doing. Apparently in the few hours of the party I’d missed, Brittany and Nicole had become best friends. Given Nic’s stance on bikers, I was a bit surprised at first, until I thought it through. They were both bold, brassy, tell-you-like-it-is women. Only difference being, Brittany could really hold her liquor.

  “I thought she did a pretty good job on that banana. Clearly our little Ms. Emily doesn’t need any help from me in that department.” Nicole was unsteady on her feet, so she collapsed in a heap at ours.

  “Yes, she does.” Brittany crooked her finger comically. Fortunately everyone else in the room found the current shot competition more interesting than the conversation in our corner. Especially since Brittany wasn’t capable of speaking softly. “She has questions about pierced penises.
Or is it pierced peni? You know, like cactuses?”

  “Hold up. I’m confused.” Nicole’s drink spilled as she rose to her knees and gestured wildly. “Emily wants to blow a cactus?”

  “No!” Brittany was starting to look every bit as sloshed as the rest of the bachelorettes. She threw her head back and laughed. “But could you imagine? Damn, that would hurt.”

  While they were busy pantomiming giving cacti blow jobs, I stealthily stood and edged away. I was almost clear when I heard Nicole’s shriek.

  “Reb is pierced?”

  Immediately the room went silent. Everyone swiveled to stare at Nicole. Who swiveled to look at me and almost fell over. She climbed onto the bed with a little help from Brittany, then pointed an accusatory finger at me. “How could you not tell me? What kinda piercing does he have? A PA? Or an apa-apa…apa-whatever? Or something really freaky?”

  I looked around the room as most of the women stared at us in fascination. Although I had a feeling a couple of the ladies in the room might’ve seen Reb’s piercing for themselves, given the way they avoided my eyes.

  “I am not talking about this.”

  “Oh girl, you gotta.” Jessica came over and threw an arm around my shoulders. “You go from being a born-again virgin to doing a guy who’s got his junk pierced? We want details!”

  I shook my head. “You know I don’t do details.”

  Jessica’s brow wrinkled. “It’s only us girls here. We won’t tell a soul. I swear. Right, ladies?”

  “To the grave,” Brittany said earnestly.

  “Apadravya!” Nicole shouted triumphantly.

  I gave her a one-finger salute as I stomped over to the shot station and grabbed a shot glass with some kind of clear liquor in it. I slammed it back, then winced. Vodka. Ouch. I waited in vain for a timely knock at the door. Because if books and television taught me anything, it was that the heroine’s awkward and embarrassing scenario was always saved at the last minute by a knock at the door.

  Nothing.

  Dammit.

  “Come on, Em.” Nicole waved her hands over her head and encouraged the others to join in. “Spill!”