by Alexa Riley
Then one day he came in with a woman. I had my back to him, but I could hear them talking. Taking a quick glance over my shoulder, I could see the woman with him was beautiful. She was elegant in a way I can never imagine being. She said to him, “She looks out of place. I’m shocked they let her work here looking like that.” His only response was “I’m sure she would clean up nice if she actually tried.” It had been a long time since I’d been hurt by someone’s words and it pissed me off. So, that day, the games began. Gone were my sweet smiles and my excitement at seeing him. I know I look different. I like my pink and purple hair, my loud nail polish, and lip gloss. It’s me. I stopped trying to fit into other people’s molds when I left the foster system. I didn’t have to pretend to be anyone but me.
I tried to make his life hell whenever he came into the shop after that. Maybe if I was a big enough bitch he would stop coming. I am pissed that I let myself believe that he liked me.
Glancing around his office, it’s all so cold—glass and chrome. It makes goosebumps break out on my exposed skin. Everything in his office is perfectly in its place, just like him. I keep looking around, not wanting to meet his eyes yet.
“Well, Bray, I didn’t know you hired entertainment for the meeting,” says the man sitting across from Mr. Vanilla aka Bray. He never gave me his first name, but I kind of like it. Only after he pissed me off, and I started calling him Mr. Vanilla, did he tell me who he was. They’d poked fun at the way I looked, and I know it was childish of me, but I wanted to do the same to him. So when he asked me why I called him that, I told him “Because you couldn’t be more plain and boring if you tried.” That’s when he informed me he was Mr. Spencer. When I didn’t respond, he added, “Mr. Spencer as in Spencer Holding, the man who owns this whole goddamn building.” This still got nothing more from me than an eye roll. Like I gave a shit.
I look over at the other man, and he looks just as put together as Bray. That guy seems more laid back, with a smile playing at his lips. He’s attractive, but not as handsome as Bray. I’m starting to think no one is.
“I can be some entertainment for the right price, if that’s what you’re looking for. It turns out I’m in the market for a new job,” I say, shooting Mr. Vanilla a hard look before turning back to the other man and winking.
“Is that right? I’d be more than willing to help out a woman in need,” he says as he adjusts himself. I’m not a promiscuous girl. In fact, I’m a virgin. But I know how to use my body to get what I want. A little flirting can go a long way to getting things when you need them. I’m not holding on to my virginity, I just never had a reason or desire to give it up. I don’t think I ever felt attraction until I met Bray. Then he reminded me he’s just like the rest.
Glancing back over at Bray, I can see his mouth has fallen open in shock. When his eyes lock with mine his anger shines through. That’s a first. This might be the most emotion I’ve ever seen from him. I want to push it. I want him as mad as I am. He comes into my job and gets me fired. Well, I’ll come into his office and cause havoc. Maybe even mess up a business deal.
As I make my way towards the other man, I run my finger along one of the shelves that line the wall. One by one I start pushing things off the shelf with a soft shove. The trinkets hit the marble floor, their crashes ringing out in the room. Things break but I don’t skip a beat.
A loud female gasp behind me lets me know that Cindy is back.
“Security is on their way, Mr. Spencer,” she squeaks in that same voice as before. How he deals with that every day is a wonder. He doesn’t acknowledge her, he just keeps staring at me while I continue my assault on his shelves. When I reach the end, I turn and make my way over to the other man, stopping when I’m standing between his legs.
I make my intentions known by raising my eyebrows and looking down at him in his seat. When he pats his lap I straddle him.
“Want a taste?” I ask huskily. “You know, before you buy it.”
I glance back over at Bray who is now white-knuckling his glass desk. He looks to be gripping it so hard it could actually shatter under his grasp. Turning back to the guy I’m sitting on, I lean in to kiss him. I feel his breath hit my lips, but before he makes contact, I’m in the air. I feel myself fly off his lap and land behind Bray, who now faces his friend. I can tell he’s enraged without having to see his face. His fists are clenched at his sides and I can see him taking long hard breaths as if he just ran a marathon.
“Out, Smith,” he growls.
“It’s like that?” Smith asks.
“Yeah, it’s like that. I’ve known you a long time, and I really don’t want to come to blows with you.”
“I know. That’s what so intriguing about this. You’re jealous over a woman?”
Did he just say jealous? Yeah, right. So jealous he got me fired from my job so he didn’t have to see my face anymore.
“All right, I’ll see you at the charity event next month. You’re bringing Chelsea with you, right?”
I hate the shot of jealousy that pierces me when I hear he has a date with another woman.
“Probably. I always do. I’ll see you then.”
I hear Smith exit the room but can’t see him with Bray blocking my view. Scooting out from behind him, I move to get away from him a little bit. A jolt of desire fizzed through my body when he grabbed me. I didn’t think he wanted me, but now I’m not so sure. Is he pissed that I’m causing chaos in his office? Or is he pissed I straddled his friend?
“She’s the one, right there. Get her. Call the cops. I’m sure Mr. Spencer wants her arrested. Look what she did to his office!” Cindy cries out like she can’t fathom what has just happened.
Two hulking men make their way towards me and I stumble back, almost slipping over one of the ornaments I knocked off the shelf. That would have been some insta-karma right there.
“Do. Not. Touch. Her,” Bray growls again. Now that I think about it, everything he’s said since I came into his office has been a growl—so different from his normally calm, self-controlled voice.
Both guards halt in their tracks. For once, I’m actually thankful for Bray’s presence. I don’t want two giant men manhandling me.
“Yeah, Hulk One and Hulk Two. Touch me and you won’t be able to piss for a fucking week,” I taunt.
“Cindy, I don’t recall asking you to call security.” Bray says in his usual controlled voice. He slips off his suit jacket and vest, and lays them over the back of one of the chairs. Then he starts unbuttoning his shirt. What the fuck?
“Sir, she barged in here and destroyed your office,” she trills.
“God, how do you listen to that voice every day? Are you a masochist or something? She must give grade-A head,” I wonder, while looking down to make sure my boobs haven’t popped out of my bra. Thank God I wore my nice one today.
“You, shut your mouth,” he barks at me. He flings his shirt in my direction and I catch it. Then he turns around. “And you,” he says pointing at Cindy. “Call the cleaning service, and then you can go home for the day.”
“But, sir, we still—”
“Enough! I gave you your instructions, Cindy. You’re dismissed.” Cindy shoots me a death glare but I just smirk. Dropping Bray’s shirt on the floor, I make my way over to his desk and flop down in his chair. I put my feet up on the glass, but not before I knock his computer mouse to the floor with my foot.
Cindy huffs and stomps out of the room. Both security men just stare at my tits.
“Like what you see, boys? It just so happens I’m looking—”
“Out!” Bray yells, making us all jump a little. I can see the veins in his neck strain. Bray isn’t a giant like Hulk One and Hulk Two—he’s leaner with broad shoulders and a narrow waist—but those guys seem to be intimidated by him. It’s hard to see all of his body as he’s still wearing his tight white undershirt, but I can just about make out his shape. The shirt clings to his trim body like a second skin and I feel a little drool on my lip.
“Jesus, don’t you have any manners at all, Mr. Vanilla? You could ask nicely and I would leave— maybe,” I say breezily, but make no move to get up. I’m not leaving. I’m not done with him yet. He still owes me a job and I’m starting to really think he’s jealous. Why not just let security take me? This is something I can use.
“Not you. You keep your little ass in that chair.” Well, shit. It’s not as fun sitting in his chair if he wants me here. I sat here to further piss him off.
“You two, I want you out. Don’t ever touch her. Got it?”
“Yes, sir, we apologize,” they say in unison before turning and leaving the room. I can’t help but roll my eyes. Mr. Spencer barks an order and everyone follows. Probably how I lost my job. He went down there told them he wanted me gone and, bam, I’m gone.
“Well, now look what you did. You just ran off two more potential customers. You’re just costing me all kinds of money today, and it’s starting to really chap my ass.”
“Are you saying you’re a hooker, Rebecca?”
The use of my name throws me off. No one has called me Rebecca in forever. I hate that name.
“Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, not that you’d know anything about that, but I sure as hell don’t want to go back to the shelter. My brother and I have to make rent and he’s out of work right now.” I inwardly groan. Why did I tell him that? And why am I embarrassed about it? I don’t do embarrassed.
I see sympathy flash across his eyes.
“Don’t,” I put my hand up before he can turn this into a pity party. Of course, I wasn’t going to sleep with those men, but when I saw the emotion he showed when I first joked about it, I couldn’t help myself. I had to poke the bear a little. “I don’t need your pity. I know how to get by on my own, and I’ve been doing it for years. What I really didn’t need though, is you getting me fired. I liked that job.” Okay, that’s a lie. I hated that job, but it’s the nicest job I’ve ever had.
“I didn’t get you fired.”
“Bullshit,” I retort. He had something to do with it. “But what you’re going to do is get me another job, or I’ll keep making your life difficult. As you can see, I’ve got the time to invest in doing it.” He has to have something for me to do around here. He owns a freaking building, for God’s sake. Who knows what else he owns.
“How old are you?” he asks.
“Twenty-three.”
He shoots me a look that tells me he knows I’m full of shit. “Old enough,” I finally say.
“Do you really whore yourself out?” he asks, making his way over to me. I’m shocked when he easily lifts me from his chair, sitting me on his desk and sliding himself between my legs.
“Why? You looking?” I ask. Why would he need a hooker? A couple of the girls from the shelter make easy money selling themselves. I’ve never been that desperate, but I understand why they do it. I don’t judge them for it. My life hasn’t been as rough as some of the other girls’. I lucked out. Might be shitty luck but it’s still luck. I bet women fall all over him, so I don’t understand why he would need to pay to get laid. Whoever this Chelsea is, I’m sure she’d give him some. “No. Honestly, I’ve never whored myself out, but maybe if the price was right. Maybe if I was desperate enough.” Pausing, I look up into his eyes. He presses against me, and I can feel his cock is hard. “Does it make you hard thinking you could buy me? What do you think virginity goes for these days? Maybe I’m in the market to sell after all.”
Available NOW!
Letting Her Lead
The Ghost Riders MC
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Each week I’ll be emailing a chapter in my Ghost Riders MC series FOR FREE. This emailed story will be a standalone, and you do NOT have to read the other two books in this series to begin.
If you’ve read any of my books before, then you know that I’m always a SAFE READ with a Happily Ever After. Absolutely NO cheating and NO dead exes. This may be a motorcycle series, but it’s still going to be the kind of sweet, sexy tale I love to write.
This emailed book is called Letting her Lead, and it will follow the fearless President of the Ghost Riders MC, Lucias, and a nerdy girl named Izzy, who knocks him off his bike. Each post may or may not be edited, depending on time restraints, and the goal is to have one chapter every week for three months.
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Books 1 and 2 in the Ghost Riders MC Series
Pulling Her Trigger
Beauty and the Biker
Chapter 1
Izzy
Sitting on the end of the bed in the dark, I rub my eyes, trying to relieve a little bit of the tension. Even after my shower, I still feel the day coating me. At least I have the next few days off from the clinic. Maybe I can finally catch up on some sleep.
Sadly, I was actually relieved when I got the call from the police department to tell me my brother was in jail. He won’t be out until he sees the judge, and there’s nothing I can do for him until that point. That takes things out of my hands, and I don’t have to decide if I’m willing to fork over the money to bail him out. Again. Who am I kidding? I know I would.
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” I whisper.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to keep my brother out of trouble. He has a way of falling into it, and I know for a fact he’s mixed up with a motorcycle gang now. It’s something I know nothing about. I spend my days working and my nights with my nose stuck in a book. Or raiding with my guild. My brother and I couldn’t be more different. How we both shared a womb at one time, I have no idea.
We’re twins, but while I went to college, made perfect grades, and wanted nothing to do sex, parties, and drugs, that’s all Dusty seems to do. I don’t even know what he does for a living, but he always appears to have a ton of cash just as quick as he seems to be broke. My guess would be drugs. He’d put our grandma who raised us through hell until she took her last breath.
Pulling the covers back on the bed, I start to crawl under when I hear a noise coming from the front of the house. I reach for my phone on the night stand and come up empty. Shit. I left it in the living room along with my laptop. Double shit.
I wait another second, just to be sure I’m not freaking out, but then I hear another sound.
I open the bedside drawer and pull out my grandfather’s revolver. I’ve been keeping it in the drawer since my brother moved back home. It’s not that I was scared of him. No, I was scared of who he hung around with. I’d come home early one night to find him and three other men in the living room, and after that, I wasn’t taking any chances.
The feelings they gave me made my blood run cold. Dusty pulled me aside and scolded me for coming home early and interrupting him in whatever it was he was doing. I had to call before I came home to my own house? This house was equally ours. It was left to both of us by our grandma, but he hadn’t lived here for years. Until recently. As much as it pissed me off that he expected me to call if I was coming home early, I did after that because I didn’t have the urge to run into his friends ever again.
I don’t know crap about motorcycle gangs, but what I do know, I want no part of. I’ll stick to my Warcraft guilds and gamebattle friends. I’ve never met any of them personally, but I highly doubt they look like my brother’s friends.
Slowly opening my bedroom door, I listen for another sound. This time, there’s nothing. Maybe it was the wind, I think to myself, waiting for a few minutes, still not hearing anything. The alarm would have gone off, I keep telling myself.
I creep down the hall and almost make it almost to the living room when a sound draws my eyes to the dining room. Without thinking, I scream and pull the trigger. The bang goes off louder than I thought possible, the recoil making my arm kick back, and I drop the gun.
“Fu
cking shit shit shit!” I hear a woman’s voice exclaim before I’m crushed to the ground by a body so big it feels like a giant concrete boulder landed on me and knocked the air out of my lungs.
The room floods with light, and I stare up at the scariest face I’ve ever seen. Scars run down his face in angry lines. His hard blue eyes look deadly. I push against him, and he actually yields to my efforts, but he takes me with him as he stands, grabbing me by my arm in a firm, unbreakable hold.
“Find him,” Scarred Guy barks, his voice just as scary as his face. Some tall skinny guy takes off through my house, and I study the man still holding my arm. He’s as big as a concrete boulder. “She’s losing a good amount of blood.” I look over and see a man on his knees next to a dark-haired woman who is holding her leg.
“No fucking shit, Sherlock,” the woman on the ground snaps. “I’ve been shot. Vincent is going to kill me. I can hear his mouth already. I’ve been playing with guns my whole life. My whole fucking life. Never been shot. I do this one small task, and this thing shoots me.”
Her eyes snap over to me, and she glares at me so hard she could give Scarred Guy a run for his money. I just stand there. I can’t seem to form a sentence as I just watch what’s playing out in front of me. I’m not even sure if I’m breathing at this point.
“Nothing, man. No one is here.” The skinny guy searching the house comes back to join us, a little out of breath. “Is she Pinch’s bitch?” he asks, nodding at me.
I know Pinch is my brother. I’ve heard a few other people call him that. I look around the room to see everyone is wearing leather jackets. The one leaning over the dark-haired woman makes the writing on the back easy to read. Ghost Riders.