by Wilde, Leah
We were back outside the clubhouse. The party had died down some. I saw people leaving in ones and twos, most of them on very unsteady feet. It had all the signs of a successful party.
Micah leaped off, then turned and offered a hand to help me down. I leaned against it as I climbed off unsteadily. My legs felt wobbly on solid ground.
I fished my phone out of my back pocket to check the time. I saw that Katy had texted me nearly half a dozen times since we’d left. The vibration of the bike must have masked my phone buzzing. I flicked through the messages.
Are you okay?!?
Let me know when you’re back!!
Go get ’em tiger ;) xxxx
Paris!!! Where are you??
Text me when ur back here <3
I texted her to tell her that I was back. She immediately replied, Thank god!! We went to get pizza. Be back in fifteen minz. Love u.
I tucked my phone away again and looked up at Micah. He was studying me with a cool gaze.
“Have fun?” he asked softly.
I nodded my head yes. “Thanks for the ride,” I said.
“My pleasure. Do you want me to take you back to your friends?”
“They went to get pizza,” I explained. “They’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“I see.” He drew in a slow, steady breath, then released it. “Well, I don’t want to leave you standing out here alone. Not safe for a pretty girl like you to be by herself with all these drunk assholes around.”
“Didn’t you say you were one of those?” I joked.
“Guilty as charged,” he said with a grin. He fell silent. His eyes never wavered from mine. They were steady and calm. The vibe rolling off of him was the same—unrelenting, powerful, irresistible. He was so close that I could smell him. Leather and whiskey, the smoke of the motorcycle engine, and underneath, a different scent, subtler and more masculine, that came in and out, teasing me. It was like a drug. I felt dizzy. Whether from the ride, the shots, or Micah himself, I wasn’t sure.
“I’m glad I met you,” he said in a quiet voice.
“I’m glad I met you, too. I don’t get out much.”
“Well, good thing you chose tonight.”
“Yeah. Good thing.”
Then his hands were on my hips and his lips were on mine. It was as sudden and stomach turning as the acceleration of the bike had been. But this time, my feet were planted firmly on the earth. So why did I still feel like I was racing through the night?
He tasted exactly like he smelled, the same swirling combination of dark and light, strong and soft. His beard rasped against my face, but his fingertips rested gently on the waist of my leather jeans. Even in my ridiculous heels and with him folded over towards me, I had to stretch to reach his mouth.
His tongue slipped past my lips and touched tips with mine. It was an easy, gentle kiss. I was surprised by how deft he was with his tongue. I would have thought that he would attack me, dominate me right away.
But he didn’t need to. He claimed me without any show of power. A simple kiss and the last of my resistance fell away.
He pulled away slowly, but his hands never left my waist. “Do you want a drink?” he asked me.
I nodded, unable to find the words. He took my fingers in his grasp and led me back inside the clubhouse.
Indoors, there were a few groups of late night survivors scattered across the various chairs and booths dotting the room. Most people were deep in the stages of alcohol- and drug-fueled mania, quickly hurtling towards sleep or unconsciousness. I saw many couples with their tongues down each other’s throats. There was even a threesome in one corner. A heavily pierced Lethal Darkness member was locked in a three-way kiss with two scantily clad brunettes. As we passed by, I saw the girls slip their hands down the front of the biker’s jeans.
I drew closer to Micah. This was so far out of my comfort zone that I couldn’t even begin to decide what I should be feeling. I was rattled, I knew that much. But it was hard to say whether I’d been that way from the start or if the man holding my hand had been the one to shake me out of what I considered normal. After all, I was clinging to him like it was the most natural thing in the world to be doing—him, Micah Youngblood, the president of the Lethal Darkness MC, owner of a Greek god’s body and an archetypal bad boy’s face. If only Daddy could see me now.
I shuddered. I hadn’t thought of Daddy all night. On the way over, Katy had made me swear up and down that I’d do everything in my power to banish all thoughts of Papa T’s revenge, to file it away in the “Worry About It Later” folder in the back of my head. For the most part, I’d done a good job of that, albeit not without significant help from my friend Jack Daniels. But now, with the wind of the bike and the thrill of Micah’s kiss coursing through me in equal measures, I was having a hard time keeping much of a lid on anything at all.
I followed Micah to the corner of the bar where we’d taken the shots earlier. He retrieved the same bottle of whiskey and went to pour two more drinks, but he paused halfway with the bottle lingering in the air.
“I forgot—you don’t like this stuff, do you?”
“Not my favorite,” I admitted shyly.
He screwed the cap back on and tucked it away again. “Yeah, I should probably lay off it, too. Killed my old man and it’s certainly doing its best to lay me down in the dirt right next to him. I’ve got a bottle of wine in my room, if that’s more your speed.”
“That sounds good,” I said.
But instead of turning and taking me to his room, Micah paused for a second. He eyed me with an unreadable expression on his face, then suddenly reached out to pull me against his chest and kissed me deeply once more.
I melted in his arms. His warmth, his strength, surrounded me and took me in. My mouth went soft to accept his teasing tongue where it flicked against my teeth. His lips were surprisingly soft.
Then, just as suddenly as he’d kissed me, he pulled away. Only an inch, though. Just enough to introduce the tiniest sliver of air between my mouth and his. He stayed close enough for our breath to mingle in the space there, for his eyes to consume almost all of my field of vision. When he spoke, his voice was a low growl.
“Listen, Paris,” he said. “If you were any other girl, I’d have you bent over in my bed right now. I wouldn’t have bothered with all this bullshit—the bike, the kiss, all that. No, I’d have cut straight to the chase and ripped that silly little shirt right off you, left your ass raw and red from a good spanking. And I might do that to you anyway. But I’m not gonna rush it. I want to take my time with you. You’re not like the others. When I make you come, I want to remember it.”
I stood still in shocked silence. Who in their right minds talked like that? Make me come? Take his time with me? Was this man out of his freaking gourd? I felt dizzy, like everything was happening too fast and I didn’t have the slightest bit of control to slow it down, not even one tiny notch. I’d been suppressing thoughts of Daddy all night and now they came tumbling out at me in a flood. He’d skin this man alive if he heard a single word of that speech. I’d seen how deep that anger ran in my father, and while I didn’t know the details, I knew he was capable of some scary things, both to me and to Micah.
But then what was it about Micah that made me want to risk it all? This night had been a risky adventure from the start. It was as much about spiting my dad as it was about having fun in its own right. Before I knew it, though, that had all been morphed into a wild adventure I never saw coming. I must have swallowed too much oxygen on the bike ride, because instead of sprinting away from Micah as fast as I could, there was only one option left on the table that made sense to me. I never in a million years would have predicted the way this night was gone, but taking everything into consideration, there was only one thing I could say that made sense. Fuck my dad. Fuck the rules. Fuck feeling awkward, feeling silly, feeling clumsy. Right now, I felt like I could pop a wheelie and ride into the distance forever, as smooth and perfectly balanced a
s anyone had ever felt in the whole entire history of guys looking at girls the way that Micah was looking at me this very second. I said the one thing left to say.
“Show me.”
Chapter 6
Micah
Well, I’ll be damned. The little girl with the pale grey eyes took me completely by surprise.
I’d dropped all pretense and gone straight for the jugular. I told her exactly what I was thinking, the god-honest truth. Some girls might have run away. Some would have shrugged and gotten to it. Her reaction was perfect, though, so different from anything I’d ever experienced. She’d gone from stunned to awed to eager in a matter of moments. If I was being honest, I’d undergone a weirdly similar process. The twinge in my chest that had grown stronger every second I spent talking to Paris was baffling, then it was overwhelming, and now, as the words I’d just said lingered in the air, it was transforming into a ravenous fucking monster. I wanted to tear this girl apart and make her moan and writhe. All because I knew that she wouldn’t break. She’d take it and beg for more. And I’d give it to her.
What the fuck was she doing to me?
Show me. Such simple words from a girl who was anything but. They were ballsy. Never before had two little words made me so rock hard that I damn near came on the spot.
We were past words now. Everything that needed to be said had been said, and the only thing left to do was pick this wild little angel up and take her to my room to see what she looked like naked on my bed.
I bent down and snatched a hungry kiss from her soft lips before spinning around, grabbing her hand, and striding across the room and down the hallway to where the door to the president’s room beckoned. I made short work of the lock, kicking the door open, then turned and yanked her into my embrace again.
Fuck, she tasted some kind of delicious. Soft and buttery, sweet, like warm honey on my tongue. And the way her body molded perfectly against mine was practically indescribable. The way a girl moved said everything about how she would be in bed, and every single step that I’d watched Paris take screamed with this unbelievable grace. She was so beautifully put together. I couldn’t wait to take her apart.
I picked her up, stepped over the threshold, and kicked the door closed behind me. In one swoop, I threw her on the bed. She hit the mattress with a soft moan and looked up at me patiently. The only thing in the whole goddamn world I wanted was to rip her clothes off without a second’s hesitation.
But I’d meant what I said. I wanted to take my time and make this last as long as I possibly could. I forced myself to stop in my tracks and just look at her. Starting at her feet, I traced my eyes up her body, taking in every detail. She watched me do it and waited.
Her feet were shapely and pale, tucked into the woven straps of her black heels. The painted toes gave way to rounded arches, and the sliver of an ankle before reaching the bottom hem of the leather jeans she wore. I looked over the contour of her calf, inch by painstaking inch. It was torture to make myself stand there, to go slow, but it was the best kind of torture ever invented. Hell, it would’ve broken a lesser man. But not me. I could survive this kind of beautiful pain.
Her knees, bent slightly, separated her calves from the slight swell of her thighs. Encased in the tight leather, they rose and met at her tiny waist. I licked my lips, salivating at the thought of running my tongue up to the crease in her hips and delving into her moist slit. I wanted to squeeze those thighs and slide my hands up under her shirt, which hung from her neck in loose folds. I could see the edge of her abdomen and the beginnings of her breasts peeking out on either side of the top. Her torso was as porcelain and petite as the rest of her. Then her shoulders, her thin neck, so vulnerable, the elegant line of her jaw.
That mouth was a dark maroon, smeared slightly from the force of my kiss. And those goddamn eyes. No one had eyes like that, no one but her. They were almost translucently grey, and as I looked at her, they flashed with a mix of emotion that I could empathize with. I was feeling the same way—torn between wanting something so badly and wondering how I could have ended up in this kind of a frenzy. Wondering whether it might be a bad idea.
But going for it anyway.
I took one step and then I was on top of her. I held the back of her head with one hand and slipped the other under the edge of her shirt to support the lower part of her spine. She was tiny and warm underneath me.
The waiting game was over and the tension had shattered completely. Now, it was a race to see how quickly we could shuck each other’s clothes off. I’d never been so angry at a leather jacket or my jeans before, but all of the sudden they’d became the worst inventions I’d ever come across, and I wanted them fucking gone. I felt the exact same way about her clothes. The sparkling top that had been so captivating just a moment ago was now the goddamn devil, and if it wasn’t off of her this instant, I was going to lose my mind. I gathered a bunch of it in one fist and yanked hard.
Paris yelped and seized my wrist between her thin fingers. “Careful!” she said in a breathy voice.
“Paris, babe,” I drawled, “if I don’t get this shit off of you, the world just might collapse.”
She exhaled, halfway between a moan and a giggle. What a sound. Angel music. Reaching a hand up behind her neck, she loosened a hidden knot there and the shirt came tumbling down. I tossed it aside and didn’t hesitate to slip my mouth down her neck and take one of her nipples in my mouth immediately.
She groaned and arched her back as I suckled at her. One of her hands encircled my neck while the other squeezed at the bedsheets and a soft “Oh” trickled between her lips. I started to work at the buttons of her pants, but the thing was too damn complex. I didn’t have enough patience to figure this shit out.
I released her nipple and, without looking up, growled, “Off.” One yank at the button was enough to coax another hoarse giggle from her. She took over, popping the button free and loosening the zipper as I returned to biting and licking at her breasts and the soft skin stretching across her collarbone.
As soon as she had loosened them, I tugged roughly at her jeans until they were halfway down her knees. For now, that would have to do. The light in the room was dim, but it was enough for me to see that she was wearing the tiniest, sheerest, laciest pair of panties I’d ever seen. They were damn near insubstantial. When I touched my finger delicately above her mound, I could feel her heat and wetness almost as perfectly as if they hadn’t been there at all.
“Micah…” she moaned.
I rubbed up and down a few times before deciding I was done with the panties, too. It was time for everything to go. I wanted this girl naked and I wanted it now. No army in the world could have dissuaded me from it.
I stood up and reached to finish tearing the pants off of her. She grabbed my wrist again. When she looked at me, her lips were half-parted and her eyes were glistening wildly. I felt my cock throb hard at the sight of her. Her fingers were so fragile and small, but she was squeezing at my forearms with surprising intensity.
“I want to see you first,” she said. She released my wrists and sat up on her elbows.
Slowly, I straightened up again. I stripped the jacket off of me slowly, letting it fall to the floor. Then, grabbing the bottom edges of my shirt in opposite hands, I pulled it over my head. The moonlight coming through the window hit my chest at a sideways angle, lighting up the peaks and valleys of the musculature across my torso. Each tattoo glimmered.
I paused and let her look at me. It had never meant all that much to me before to be strong. It was what it was—more functional than aesthetic. I was muscular because every now and then I had to beat some punk to a bloody pulp, not because I was interested in looking good for the girls. That was a nice side benefit at best.
But now, I stood in the moonlight and let her drink me in and the reaction it inspired was the last little bit I could stand. She looked at me with the purest desire I’d ever seen etched in her eyes like an ancient engraving. That did it.
>
“No more waiting,” I said. “I need you now. I need to know what you taste like, what you sound like, what you look like when you come.”
She whimpered wordlessly in response. I bent over and pulled the pants off of her.
“Stand up,” I ordered. I offered a hand toward her to help her off the bed and to her feet. She kept her gaze locked on me as she took it and rose.
Keeping her hand enfolded in mine, I raised it up over her head and turned her in a full revolution. One last moment of taking it all in. That ass, those tits, the perfect, peachy skin…how could any man resist her? How had she not been claimed already? Those were questions for another time.
When she had finished the pirouette and was facing me again, I reached out and grabbed her throat gently in my left hand. I pulled her to me and devoured her mouth while my right hand skittered down her torso, down the front of her panties, and touched the lips of her pussy.