Beauty and the Bad Boy

by Scarlett Dupree

  Her smile was... enigmatic. "If it's what I think it is, the horse is kinda out, but there's no need to worry. Or I guess I can only say with certainty yet that there's no need to for you to worry. I can't get pregnant. And I don't have any diseases. I'd say I'm 'clean' but saying it that way bugs me. So unless you're going to tell me that you have some awful disease, we're good."

  "No, I'm..." I almost said the word ‘clean’. But I was far from clean. "Healthy." It should have been weird that we both just trusted each other about this, but it wasn't.

  I wanted to ask the obvious question, but I hesitated for a short while before asking, "Can I ask why you can't get pregnant?"

  She shrugged. "Being pregnant with Joshua was hard. There were issues. There would have been more issues if I did it again. So I had my tubes tied after I was born." She gave me a serious look. "Is that a problem?"

  One thing I knew for sure was that I didn't want more kids. Ever. "Not a problem at all. I just wondered."

  She stood up, collected the dishes, put them in the sink, then turned around and leaned against the counter. "I really hate to put an end to the domestic bliss we've got going this morning, but I have to teach at noon, so I need to be in my car and on the road by about eleven."

  I swallowed down the rest of my coffee–it really was the best I ever had–and stood up. "Okay. I need to get to the garage anyway. Let's get moving, then, sexy." I brought my cup to the sink and stood in front of her, wrapping my hands around her hips. I pulled her against me and looked down at her smokin’ hot face.

  She looped her arms around my neck. "We should probably shower first..."

  I bent down and brushed my lips against hers. "Yeah, we probably should. You definitely should, filthy girl." I felt her hands press against the back of my head, and I slid my tongue into her mouth. I couldn’t keep my hands–my tongue–off of her.

  After a few seconds, she pulled back just enough to talk. "Mmmm. Shower's that way."

  I nipped on her lower lip before I lifted my head. "Show the way, filthy."

  But she didn't let me go right away. She had a lopsided little smile on her face. "What is it?" I asked.

  "How do you like your eggs, Jake?"

  I laughed. "Up. I like my eggs up." She snickered. "What?" I asked again.

  "You like your coffee black and your eggs up. Bitter and raw. Seems like a metaphor to me." She grabbed my neck and gave my chin a little shake. It wasn't the first time she'd done that. It was a sweetly intimate gesture, and I loved it.

  I grinned and swatted her rear. "C'mon, Dr. Professor. Teacher. Whatever you are, let's get you thoroughly showered."

  The shower was indeed thorough, so it was getting close to 11:00 AM when we finally pulled into the Auto-Fire lot. I parked, and we climbed off my bike. Dakota handed me her helmet. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her silky-soft cheek, taking her hand. "Your keys are in the office."

  I looked towards the clubhouse and saw Lenny and Mickey sitting on top of one of the picnic tables near the door. They were watching with interest. Shit.

  I never cared if the other guys looked at the girls I had been with since Tina, but Dakota was different. I cared. I cared a lot. And I knew exactly what they were gawking at.

  Dakota had on high-heeled black leather boots under some tight black pants in the cut I was thinking was her favorite–snug, low rise, boot cut. A damnfine fit. Her hair was loose. She looked–no surprise–amazing. Luckily, she was wearing a black blazer and had a large messenger bag slung across it, because her top was a burgundy knit thing that wrapped around somehow, making a deep V-neck. I personally thought it was far too low to be teaching in. Not that I'd said anything to her, and not that I didn't enjoy the view myself. But, the boys would have enjoyed that way too much.

  I decided to ignore them. I led her into the office, keeping my eyes straight ahead. I went over to the wall behind the desk and grabbed her keys off the clipboard. When I turned around, Dakota had her wallet out.

  "What the fuck are you doing?" I demanded, taken aback.

  "What do you mean?”

  “I know I look like a high class prostitute with these looks, but last night was free, babe.” She rolled her eyes at me, again. I had feeling she’d be doing that a lot with me.

  “Wise guy. No, I'm paying for the repair."

  For some reason, that hurt my feelings. "Like hell."

  She just looked at me; I could see her working it through in her brilliant mind. "But you made a ticket. Won't it screw up the books if it doesn't get paid for?"

  "Let me worry about it, Dakota. Please. The labor was mine. The parts were no big deal. That weak timing chain is the best thing that's happened to me in a very long time. Maybe ever. I don't want you paying for it."

  She put her wallet away and closed the distance between us. She slid her arms around my waist. "Okay. I'm sorry. I’m not used to this… And thank you." I took her face in my hands and kissed her.

  Her face was a little flushed when she pulled back. "Damn. I really do need to go."

  I felt weirdly anxious about her leaving. I didn’t want to let her go. What I wanted was to stay in bed, with her, all day. I handed her the keys. "I'll walk you to your car."

  When we stepped back into the lot, I caught sight of something out of the corner of my eye and turned towards the clubhouse. There, lined up like they were waiting for a parade, was practically every single Fire Bird. They were all sporting shit-eating grins, and they were all watching me take Dakota across the lot. Only the boss, Weston, was missing.

  "We have an audience," I told her. She looked over, laughed, and gave them all a little salute. With a couple of whoops and a "Hell yeah!" they stood at attention and returned the gesture.

  The driver's side of her car was facing the clubhouse. As I reached for the door handle, Dakota grabbed my hand, grinned slyly, and asked, "Wanna give 'em a little show?"

  I laughed. Yes. Yes, I did. I pushed her back against the side of her car, slid my leg between hers, braced my hands on the roof, and leaned into her. I gave her a hard, deep kiss, and she returned it in kind, wrapping her arms around my waist and winding her leg around mine. She grabbed my ass in both hands and pressed me against her.

  Just like that, we weren't putting on a show anymore. We were closed off from the outside world. I moved down to nuzzle her neck. The vibrations of her moan tickled my tongue. She pushed her hips against me, and I pushed back.

  Okay. This had to stop, or I was going to have her now, against her car, right in front of the whole damn gang. I leaned back to look at her. She looked dazed and entirely fuck-able. "Babe. You need to go, right?"

  She shook her head a little and refocused. "I really do." She breathed deeply and gave me an odd look and asked timidly, "Will I see you again soon?"

  Soon. Oh yes. The sooner the better.

  "Fuck yeah. But it looks like I'm probably going to have something going on tonight, but I'd like to see you after. Could I stop by? It might be really late, though."

  She smiled and tiptoed up to whimper in my ear, "I'll leave the light on for you. Come anytime. Wake me up, if you have to."

  I pulled her against me and murmured, "Mmm. I plan to. You have a great day now, babe."

  I opened the door for her and she got in. She started the engine, revved it a little so that the guys noticed, gave me a little wave, and pulled out.

  I stood in the lot and watched until she was out of sight. Then I turned around to face the guys, who had started cheering and whistling like idiots as soon as she'd pulled away. I walked into the fray. "All right, you assholes. Get it out of your system. One and only chance."

  "Dude! Well done!"

  "Damn, Jake. That's where you've been? Why the hell'd you come back?"

  "Those legs go all the way up, brutha!"

  "You know she's way out of your league, right?"

  I felt good and took the ribbing in good humor. One of the lackeys, called out, "That must have been some Grade-A pus
sy, am I right, Jake?" Everyone went quiet. I spun around and put him on the ground with a rocket right cross to his face. "Watch your fucking, filthy mouth, Lackey," I spat.

  I turned and stalked into the clubhouse. The rest of the gang followed after me, ignoring the idiot who lay on the ground spitting blood.

  Chapter Six

  Dakota

  It took I constant effort to concentrate on my classes that day. I loved my job–mostly. I loved my students–most of them–but the very last place I wanted to be at that moment was anywhere Jake wasn't. As soon as I got some physical distance from him, our whole time together started to evanesce in my head. I'd felt attuned to him while he was with me.

  But now, I worried that I'd manufactured that connection. Had I just made a monumental fool of myself? Had his part in my sudden sexual reawakening led me to see more between us than was actually there?

  I felt exposed to the naked air. I felt out of control. I had built a life and a mindset for myself in which feeling exposed and out of control was all but impossible. No one had had any real power to affect my sense of happiness since Jon died. I'd had enough turmoil and trauma already. Besides, I'd worked hard to learn how to let life be what it was without freaking out about any of it.

  How did I allow this to happen? I didn't do anxiety. Not anymore. I wanted to make yesterday not happen. More than that, though, I wanted to get back to Jake and make it happen again. I didn't even recognize myself.

  When I focused on clearly remembering the specifics of the night and morning–what he said, what we did, how he was–I felt calmer. Unless I had completely hallucinated the whole time–and then I had bigger problems to be concerned with–what I actually remembered about our time together was, well, magical. He had been quite clearly smitten with me as I was with him. He wasn’t an evil, sex-wizard. He wasn’t even the warrior. He was a magical dragon.

  And, oh God, the sex. I'd always been enthusiastic and adventurous in bed, but even with Jon I hadn't had the blind intensity that I'd experienced with Jake. With anyone else, even Jon, I had had silky, romantic sex or raunchy, rowdy sex. With Jake it was both all at once, and a lot more. We had laid ourselves wide open to each other.

  Okay. I felt better when I played everything back through. In fact, I felt really damn good–too good to be sitting in a faculty meeting, that's for sure. When I had to teach, though, and actively think about something else, then Jake receded into fantasy, and the panic rose. I needed to get through the day and return to him.

  I was disappointed with myself for all this mental fluttering. It was not like me. It was weak-ass, was what it was. The thought of sitting around waiting for a man made me furious and sick. I would absolutely not allow myself to indulge in such bullshit behavior. So, after my last class ended that evening, instead of running home to wait by the door for him, I decided to see if Scott was around. A couple of hours with him always fixed me up.

  I drove back to Shadowbeach. Parking on Canary Street, I got my bag out of the trunk and headed inside. As I headed to the locker room, I saw Scott on the floor, working at the free weights with a heavy-set guy I hadn't seen before. I waved and walked up.

  "How you doin', Dakota?"

  "Good, Scott. You maybe want to spar tonight?"

  "Um, sure. Dave here is my last client, so… how 'bout in an hour?"

  "Great. I'll get a circuit in beforehand. Thanks," I said and then headed to the changing room.

  I spent the entire circuit thinking about Jake. By the time an hour had passed, when Scott waved me over to the ring, I was good and warm and had sorted out most of my anxiety and self-loathing–all the therapy I needed.

  Spending the next three-quarters of an hour or so doing Krav Maga and giving Scott a friendly ass-kicking was just recreation. Afterwards, I showered and headed home, feeling strong, refreshed and pleasantly weary.

  It was nearly 10:00 PM when I got home. I wasn't sure what Jake had meant by ‘late’ but I had an idea he meant something later than a pensioner's bedtime. I cleaned the kitchen–I hadn't had to wash so many dishes in years–and changed the bedding.

  My room had reeked of sex, and though I first spent several minutes just enjoying the sense memories, the bed was seriously trashed and, really, a little gross. So I put on fresh linens and generally fluffed the room. Then I changed into a clean vest top and pajama bottoms and went into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine. No work tonight. I turned on the front porch light and a lamp near the living room couch, and then curled up with my wine and one of the novels I was reading for pleasure.

  Just after 2:00 AM, I heard a rumble that made my pulse pound. His bike pulled into the driveway. I'd had a couple of glasses of wine and had been dozing comfortably against the side of the couch. I stood up, stretched, and went out to the porch just as he was coming up my path. He was dressed as usual, in jeans and his sexy leather jacket, but tonight he was wearing a dark beanie over his hair. I saw in the glint of the porch light that he was wearing big rings on both hands. That, too, was new–to me, anyway.

  He looked rough, exhausted and very disturbed at first, but when he saw me he smiled. "Hi, babe."

  Why didn't it bug me that he called me ‘babe’? I had had many a pointed arguments over the years about patriarchal subjugation and the infantilizing of women implied by such an endearment. It had always been a fighting word for me. But when Jake called me ‘babe’ my stomach was going up and over. I cherished it.

  He stepped up on the porch and pulled me into his arms. Being close to him now, I could see his left eye was beginning to bruise and he had several cuts across the bridge of his nose, and cheeks. He must have been caught up in a fight.

  He leaned down and just held me, his forehead on my shoulder. He smelled of gasoline and smoke. And gunpowder. Okay. I was right about the not teddy bear tea parties. I looped my arms around his neck and nestled my face against his cheek. "Jake. You okay?"

  He answered me without lifting his head. "I am now."

  "I spent the whole day hoping I hadn't gone nuts and made myself an imaginary biker, so I'm very glad to have you here." He chuckled and squeezed me harder. "Come inside. I'll make you a drink. You want something to eat? I can call for a pizza."

  "No, I'm not hungry. A drink would be fucking awesome, though." He nuzzled my neck and took a deep breath. "God, I love the way you smell." My stomach did the up and over thing again.

  I turned my head and kissed his cheek. "Let's go in." I took his hand and led him through the door and to the couch. I knew something was terribly wrong. I just knew. He stood there, not moving so I gently pushed him to sit down. He groaned. I couldn’t see, but it was obvious he was hurting all over. "What do you want? Beer, wine, whiskey? Tequila?"

  "Whiskey would be great. Just straight." He laid his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. He looked lost. I wanted to wash away all his pain.

  I poured us both about three fingers of whiskey and went back to the living room. I sat next to him, one leg folded under, and handed him his glass when he looked up. He stared at it for a long time, then tossed it back in one swallow and set the glass on the low table in front of him.

  He was putting off a heavy vibe: Worry, anger, or fear. I couldn't quite read it, but he was definitely torn and distracted. He hadn't told me much about the gang, but I knew enough to know that what had happened tonight had probably been intense and on the dark side. I wasn't sure what to ask or how to act just then. So, as was my wont, I followed my instinct. I finished my drink and set my glass down.

  I did care about what had happened to him tonight and I did want to know. But I knew after I had lost Joshua, talking to everyone was the last thing I wanted. "Jake. I don't know if you want to tell me about things like tonight, or what you can tell me. I don't expect you to feel like you can tell me everything. I don't want you to think you have to tell my anything. I don't want you to feel like you have to lie or evade.

  “So I'm not going to ask any questions, at least n
ot yet, not tonight. I hope there will come a time when you want to tell me whatever would help you to deal with the things you have to deal with. There might come a time when I will need some answers. But right now, I just want you to feel some peace here… with me."

  He was completely still, his eyes were intent on mine. At first they had the look of a lost puppy but they quickly turned to a look of a lion set on his prey. I instantly felt chills. He slid a hand under my hair and around the back of my neck and pulled me abruptly to him for a deep, desperate kiss.

  After a minute or two, I moved to straddle him, but he held me back. "I–I… would it be okay if I took a shower?"

  It sounded like a request, not an invitation, and that was okay. "Absolutely. Come on, I'll let you use my fluffiest towel." I pulled him up and led him down the hall.

  I got him set up in the bathroom and left him alone. I went to turn off the porch light and collect the empty glasses from the living room. On my way to the kitchen, I saw that he'd left the bathroom door open. I took the glasses to the sink and turned back to watch him strip.

  I felt a little down-low clench as he pulled off his beanie and his hair ruffled out, stepping into the shower. For several minutes, he just stood under the stream of hot water with his back to me, his hands against the wall and his head down. He had several bruises on his back. In that position, with the muscles of his back and shoulders bunched and his legs spread, he looked especially big and powerful and seemed to fill my extra large shower.

  I marveled at the tattoo that covered his entire back and exactly replicated the patch on his jacket. He was literally marked for life. Was I really signing on to a life where my man came home smelling of fire and gunpowder?

  Yes, I was. I had. I just couldn’t stay away from him.

  I walked to the bathroom door and leaned on the jamb. "Hey. You want company?"

  He didn’t move for a minute. Eventually, he looked over his shoulder, then turned to face me and leaned back against the wall. His expression was flat, and I noticed his cock was hard. I knew instantly what he needed. I took off my pajamas and stepped in.