Undeniable: Dom & Gigi

by Callie Harper

  It wasn’t so much that we were from different worlds. I’d fucked rich girls before. Not a problem.

  But here was the problem. I barely knew her yet, but I could already tell she was good. Gigi was a nice person. She was the type who remembered birthdays and smiled and said thank you. Sweet, sheltered, innocent, this girl turned in her homework on time. She followed the rules.

  She didn’t deserve to be anywhere near a man like me, a dark, relentless beast, insatiable and demanding. She needed to stay in her little princess tower, date some country-club boy who’d take her out to dinner and make polite conversation over the meal. Not a brute who’d pull her close, close enough to finger fuck under the tablecloth, reminding her with a whisper in her ear to keep quiet when she came. She deserved some stand-up finance guy type who’d marry her and make sweet, missionary position love to her on special occasions. Not a tattooed hulk with a fucked-up past who’d take her over his knee and spank her until she got so wet she begged and came right as his palm smacked hard over her slick pussy.

  That was what did it, picturing Gigi bent over my knee, her sweet, round ass up in the air, her fingers digging into the bed as she cried out, writhing with need. She was submissive. I could scent it, like an animal with its prey. She probably didn’t even know it yet. She might have no idea what she’d really like, how she’d crave serving her master. The darkness I’d bring out in her.

  I came hard, my hot seed spilling out on my stomach. Regret followed just as fast. I might have traveled 3,000 miles to get away from the kind of shit I’d been surrounded by all my life, people treating each other like animals, but it didn’t matter. I had that darkness deep within me. Here I’d met some sweet, gorgeous young thing and all I wanted to do was defile her, fuck her hard and raw and teach her how much she liked it. Deep down, I was no better than the drunk fuck who’d tried to pull her into his car last night. I might be worse.

  I showered off and decided to head to the auto shop. I’d bought myself a sweet truck, a Chevy Silverado. Only problem was it wouldn’t run. I’d hauled it off the property of the man who’d sold it to me cheap, confident in my ability to fix it up. It would just take some time. Thankfully, one of the guys who worked at a local auto shop also teamed with me on security and we’d worked out a deal. I gave the guys a few hours of my time each week, usually working on bikes, and they let me keep my truck out back and use their space to nurse it back to health. A win-win.

  Under that truck, greasy and determined, I told myself I wasn’t hoping for a miracle. It wasn’t as if one twist of a wrench would suddenly spring the whole truck back into action, magically making it available for me to use by tomorrow morning. For the date I’d made with Gigi to teach her how to drive. Because apparently now I wasn’t just operating a shuttle service, I was running driver’s ed as well.

  There was no way my truck would be ready. I’d borrow my buddy’s car. It wouldn’t even make sense to teach her in my monster of a truck. That wasn’t how she should learn to drive. But logic didn’t seem to be factoring too much into my decisions these days. I wanted Gigi up in my truck, right next to me, her skirt riding up her creamy thighs, my hand over on her soft skin, making its way up as she shifted and sighed in her seat.

  Why the fuck did I say I’d teach her how to drive? This whole thing was a disaster waiting to happen. My phone rang. I slid out from underneath the truck and answered.

  “Dominic? Is that you?”

  “Yeah, Ma.” I didn’t ask her “who else would it be?” but the question did seem to ask itself.

  “I’ve barely seen you in weeks! How are you?” She sounded breathy and all worked up. I’d say she was on something, but as far as I knew she’d kicked everything but booze for years now.

  “Fine, yeah. You?”

  My mother launched into a rave over how amazing her life was these days. I stood there, hand in my pocket, not really listening. But I was happy for her. I knew more than anyone, she’d had it rough most of her life. She’d had me at 17 and for the first ten years of my life she’d bounced between her two main loves: my dad and her drugs. Sometimes she’d manage to do them both and those were the best times for me, with my mom and my dad and it seemed like the whole MC to look out for me. But then she’d leave, sometimes taking me with her before she ditched me with a relative or a friend for how long I never knew.

  I was over it now, but I’d had my angry years. From around 13 to 15, I’d idolized my dad and demonized my mom. Then I’d learned more about what my dad did and the kind of man he really was and I’d gained empathy. My mom had been trying to do her version of the right thing, taking me away from that life when she could manage it.

  Well, now she had me, living 15 minutes down the road from her, no motorcycle club competing for my attention. But we still hadn’t seen each other in weeks.

  “Fingers crossed!” I heard her saying, but I couldn’t say about what. I guessed she must mean the guy she was seeing. I didn’t want to get into that conversation. She’d had more highs and lows over men than I could possibly count.

  “Anyway, your car’s ready.” I’d worked her out a deal at the shop and the work had been done days ago, but she still hadn’t picked it up. She must be hitching rides with her sugar daddy.

  “Oh, you’re fabulous.” She went on, affecting some new way of talking, like she was a rich lady. Maybe that was for the new guy, too.

  “I’ll drive it over for you.”

  “Thanks! Got to go.”

  The clock on my phone said it was time for me to get going, too. I’d drop off my mom’s car. My buddy could pick me up there to head to the gym. Then I’d change and head to the country club. There was a party there tonight and I might see Gigi.

  * * *

  §

  * * *

  Most of the party passed without Gigi seeing me. But I saw her straight off. I stayed in the shadows, observing, doing my job. I could tell she was searching around, ignoring the swarms of country-club boys all around her as she sought me out. Seeing her look so eager, then disappointed, did all sorts of fucked up things to me, making my chest puff and both my heads swell right up. She made me feel like the Man. That was a dangerous drug, maybe the most potent, addictive and lethal of them all.

  She was wearing something silver and shimmering, looking like she’d dropped down right out of the heavens and might flit back up at any moment. Unless I found the chance to drag her down into a dark cave with me. Even though I wouldn’t. Not tonight, not any night.

  But I could stop some other prick from dragging her off instead of me. That shithead from Friday night was there at the party, too, watching Gigi nearly as intently as me. And that was saying something.

  I’d been around a whole lot of crazy in my life, especially the violent type, so I knew it when I saw it even when it was dressed up in a suit. That Brock kid was off his fucking rocker. He was also rich and, therefore, surrounded by all sorts of protections and padding, but that gleam in his eye? He was a time bomb waiting to explode. I just had to make sure he didn’t do it anywhere near Gigi.

  Standing out on the balcony, I stayed in the corner, along the wall where I could take everything in. Some drunk woman made her way over and started draping herself on me, telling me she was thirsty but nothing at the party was satisfying her. She was all done up and had the best body money could buy, but it was the last thing I wanted. Of course that was when Gigi walked out and finally saw me.

  She turned away, looking embarrassed and hurt. She wore it all on her face like an open book. She’d been looking for me all night and now I could tell that she felt embarrassed, as if she realized she was just one woman among many chasing me down. And she was hurt because it looked like I took any woman who came my way.

  Quiet but firm, I put some distance and then some more between me and the woman offering herself. Then I made my way over to the opposite corner on the balcony, silently willing Gigi to come to me again. I could see her struggle, looking out over the la
wn, biting her lip, but then she did. It was all I could do not to reach out and wrap my hand around her waist, lean down and taste those lips again. She looked so nervous, so unsure. I’d done that to her, damn it. I didn’t even know how, but I always ended up hurting people.

  “Hey.” I spoke first, searching her out with my eyes even though I couldn’t touch her the way I wanted. For many reasons.

  “Hi,” she answered, shy. “I swear I’m not stalking you. I was just trying to get some air and get away from—” She stopped herself, but I knew who she was talking about.

  “Be careful around that guy.” I leaned toward her, wanting to cross all sorts of boundaries. “He’s trouble.”

  She shrugged, then looked up and met my gaze with her wide blue eyes. I’d never been a guy big on romance, ready to start reciting poetry, but right then I wished I had more than a G.E.D. Maybe if I’d stuck with school and paid attention I could have learned some poetry, some sonnet I could recite and let her know she was a goddamned epic beauty.

  “Brock’s harmless,” she insisted, bringing me back to reality. “I’ve known him forever. He’s an asshole. And he’s got a thing for virgins. But it’s not like he’s going to do anything about it.”

  My mouth went dry. Did she just say she was a virgin? I must have been showing some of my reaction because she blushed and murmured, “I don’t know why I just said that.”

  “You’re a virgin?” I felt all dumb and wooden, like I couldn’t process what she was saying.

  “I wasn’t exactly planning on advertising that, but…” She shrugged again and looked up at me, slightly sheepish. Blood surged through me, my fists balled at my sides so I didn’t wrap my hands around her and pull her to me, claiming her as mine, all mine. But the caveman within me roared to make it so. No one had had her. I had to have her.

  “Don’t worry about Brock, though.” She broke our gaze, looking out again into the night.

  “How does he know?” I hissed, really wanting to hurt him now more than ever. Had he been with her? Touched her, kissed her, nearly taken her but she’d stopped him late one night? The thought made me see white with rage.

  “Because everyone knows everything about everyone here,” she answered, seemingly unaware of the temper surging within me. “It’s like one big incestuous family. Everyone’s just one degree removed.” She looked up at me with a shy smile. “That’s why it’s so nice to talk to you.”

  “Nice?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not nice.”

  She looked down, a flash of hurt across her gorgeous features. But then she looked up again, tentative, hopeful. “Are we still on for tomorrow?”

  I nodded. “I’ll pick you up at eight.” The smile she gave me would have melted a frozen tundra. I was not going to make it another minute without doing something I would deeply regret. But maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe it would be worth it just to feel her in my arms again.

  “Have a good night.” I nodded at her, dismissive. I brushed past her as I walked away, gritting my teeth and forcing myself to leave while I still could.

  * * *

  §

  * * *

  Eight a.m. on Sunday Gigi flounced out of her house in a light pink dress and ballet flats. What did she think I was taking her to, a garden party? I wanted to roll my eyes, but that wasn’t the reaction my body was having. The way the fabric clung to her curves, the way it rode up her thighs, had me swallowing and looking away and wishing like hell I’d told her she should wear sweatpants. But knowing Gigi, she’d find some way to make them sexy as hell, maybe riding down low on her hips exposing a patch of skin I could bite.

  “Good morning!” She looked as chirpy and sunny as a Sunday school teacher.

  “Hey.” I just had to get this over with and then I’d put some much-needed distance between us. I drove over to a local school, the parking lot empty as expected. We switched places—no touching involved—and she got in the driver’s seat where I introduced her to the gears and pedals. She nodded and didn’t have too many questions since I guessed she’d been in plenty of cars.

  “OK, give her some gas.” I buckled myself, just in case.

  “I’m nervous.” She smiled over at me looking cute as hell. “What if I mess up?”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s my buddy’s car anyway.”

  “So I can put a few dents in it?”

  “Sure, he works in a body shop.” I kept talking to keep her relaxed, telling her about the shop, how I worked there sometimes, too. She eased into it, jolting us good a few times, but managing to drive in a few large, looping ovals around the park.

  “Here’s where you need to do a little less.” I reached over and wrapped my hands around hers on the wheel to show her how little she really needed to do to make a turn. No lurching movements, nothing sharp or jarring, just easy and slow. Like the way my bicep was rubbing lightly against her breasts. Easy and slow, just like that.

  I brought my hands back, folding them in my lap like I’d been naughty. Or at least wanted to be. I snuck a glance over and fuck if her nipples weren’t hard, pressing against that pretty pink dress, making me think all kinds of dark thoughts. How satisfying it would be to tear that party dress right off of her, rip it down the middle so I could get at those breasts like a ravenous beast.

  “Should I try to park?” she asked. Right, she still thought she was getting a driving lesson.

  “Go for it.” I pointed to a spot among 30 empty ones waiting for her in a row. She pulled in and parked, no problem.

  “I’m a pro!” She looked at me, smiling and effulgent. I couldn’t help but smile back. It was contagious. “You’re smiling.” She elbowed me, teasing.

  “Yeah, you made me do it,” I grumbled. I knew what she was getting at. I didn’t exactly walk around greeting the world like a game show host.

  “OK, I’m ready!” She started pulling out.

  “For what?”

  “Want to go get a coffee? I’ll drive us downtown.”

  “Guess so.” Early Sunday morning, there shouldn’t be too many others on the road. I’d just have to pray she didn’t hit a mailbox and draw the cops. That was all I needed, some overzealous rookie looking me up in his database and causing me headaches. My record was clean, had been for years now, but if you dug back enough you could find some good stuff from my juvenile years.

  After a few near-misses and only a couple of times I had to reach over and put my hand on the wheel—#copafeel—we made it to a coffee shop in one piece.

  “I did it!” She raised her hands in victory, then turned and threw her arms around my neck like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like I was the type of guy who gave “good for you” friend hugs. Her soft breasts against my chest, her face against mine, my body tensed. I didn’t move a muscle. She drew back, flushed and slightly embarrassed.

  “I mean, thanks for the driving lesson,” she murmured.

  “Come on. I’ll get you a coffee and drive you home.” I climbed out, wondering what the hell was up with me. I was sure she was, too. I knew I was running hot and cold with her, but that had to stop. Cold had to win out because this wasn’t going anywhere.

  I bought her a latte, realizing how stupid it was that I liked paying and presenting her with it. Caveman buy you coffee. She found us two seats in the backyard patio, surrounded by ivy climbing stone walls and not many other people. I hadn’t planned on a get-to-know-you sit down. But, I sat down. It would be the first and the last time we hung out, so I figured what was the harm?

  I couldn’t even tell you where the next two hours went. I’d lost a couple of hours with a woman before, but never with all of our clothes on. Gigi started in talking, and it was like I didn’t know what hit me. Her light laugh, the way she had of leaning in when she talked, as if she were telling me something no one else knew. She was effervescent, like sitting across from my own personal champagne bubble.

  “I’m not even sure if Heath has running water!” she c
onfessed, eyes wide and amused, telling me about how one of her older brothers had taken off to Vermont and built his own cabin. Apparently she had three older brothers. None of whom had taught her how to drive.

  “You’d think he could haul his mountain-man ass down here and teach his sister to drive one weekend.”

  “Oh no.” She shook her head, not a trace of bitterness in her reply. “He’d have to head back onto the grid if he did that. And see our father.”

  It turned out everyone hated their father—except her and her oldest brother. I guessed that was because her oldest brother was a lot like their father, and Gigi probably didn’t hate anyone. But from what I’d seen of powerful men, none of them got that way by being a good guy. Maybe her father was the exception to the rule, the one who amassed all his riches on the up and up. But I doubted it.

  “I’ll have to introduce you one of these days,” she said, looking so happy I didn’t even point out how ridiculous the statement was. No need to argue over something that would never happen. “I don’t know where Dad’s been lately,” she mused. “He’s been here in the Hamptons, but never by the house or the club. Anyway.” She shook herself from her thoughts. “I want to know more about how you learned to drive a car at 13.”

  She looked so intrigued, so delicious with a tantalizing tease of cleavage at the neckline of that demure dress, I found myself talking. Plus, maybe if she learned more about me she’d do the walking away all by herself. That would make staying away from her a whole lot easier.

  “I could pick any lock by the time I was 10,” I began. “By 12, I could hotwire a car. By 13, I could drive the getaway car.” I left out how I lost my virginity right around then, too, the virginity she still had though I promised myself I wouldn’t think about that and get hard right at the coffee shop. And I left out other details, too, like what, exactly, I drove the getaway car from. Gigi got the flyby version. She’d seen Sons of Anarchy. It was enough.