Ride All Night

by Michele De Winton

  “Who cares? The network sure as shit isn’t going to. Don’t worry about it, kid. It’s reality TV, it’s not like it’s real life.”

  That made her smile and she waved a hand to try and dismiss her worries. “Okay. You’re the expert.”

  Dave swung his chair back to face the monitors and started editing again.

  At the end of the day he had most of the pilot blocked out and Beth was impressed. “We did good. I’m so sorry I was such a judgmental cow when I met you.”

  “Don’t stress about it. I wasn’t exactly Mr. Charm either. Now, go home and get some sleep or whatever it is that you kids do these days. I’m going to be here a while.”

  “We got it all?” she asked.

  “Yep. Good job.” Then she was dismissed as he turned back into his hunched self.

  * * *

  Now what? Standing in front of Rusty’s workshop where the mess of gasoline had been cleaned away, Beth wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do next. Watching herself with Rusty on-screen had shaken her. Taken her back to the night when she’d mistakenly thrown herself into his bed and almost—she gulped at the memory—almost had sex with him. That was just a mistake. A vaguely drunken, late-night mistake. It was, and look at how it had turned out. Grim had kissed her, had paraded her around on his arm, and had introduced her to his director as his girl. Everything was fine. All going to plan.

  Pushing through the doors she walked into the empty bike workshop and headed upstairs to Rusty’s apartment. Everything was quiet. Good.

  Tucked up in bed, she made her nightly notes in her journal and then turned out the light. Only to hear the deep throaty roar of Rusty’s bike as he came home. Even up in his apartment, his beast of a bike still reverberated through the walls and into her nerves. The silence when the bike stopped was all-encompassing and Beth didn’t know which was worse. The anticipation of him crashing into the apartment like he always did, or it actually happening.

  Finally, she heard the thump of his helmet hitting the couch, the slide of his leather jacket being dumped on the floor, and the clink of the fridge and the hiss of a beer being opened.

  And how is it that you know exactly what all those sounds are? She pursed her lips as she lay with her arms neatly tucked in at her sides. It was just because she had to pick up the mess each morning so she could get through to the kitchen. Honestly, she didn’t know how anyone could live in such a state.

  “You asleep?” The words were hissed through her door and Beth’s whole body stiffened, her eyes flicking open. “Oh, well. Shame. I could have come and read you a bedtime story.” His voice was slurred with drink and he chuckled but didn’t try and open the door. Beth unclenched her hands. He wouldn’t actually come into her room, she was sure of that. No, but what if he did? What would her traitorous body do? Listening carefully for any more movement, she finally relaxed when she heard the thump of Rusty’s own bedroom door.

  Closing her eyes, she forced herself to start a relaxing meditation. One that was guaranteed to send her whirring brain into calm-down, shut-down, sleep-time mode.

  The edges of her consciousness faded as she fell asleep and suddenly Beth was standing back in the middle of Rusty’s workshop. The dream was so real she thought she could hear her heart beating in her ears. But looking around she realized all the colors were wrong. Everything was too bright, the contrast turned up too high to be real life.

  The sound of a bike approached, and Beth’s dream-self stood with her feet apart, waiting. Rusty’s bike roared into his workshop. His helmet off, the motion of the bike made his hair stream out behind him like some sort of eighties music video. It should have been cheesier than a bag of Cheetos but instead it stirred something deep inside Beth’s dreaming-self and she took a step toward him.

  He killed the motor and in two steps she was standing with her hip against the bike, just like in the scene Dave had shown her in the editing suite. Rusty looked down at her, his dark eyes practically giving out heat and Beth followed his gaze down, discovering she was wearing nothing but a black lacy negligee. Something she neither owned nor would ever wear.

  “Suits you,” he said and her own retort was swallowed when he swept one hand down and plucked her up as if she was nothing more than the scrap of fabric she was wearing.

  “Careful, big boy, don’t start something you don’t want to finish.” From somewhere deep in her subconscious, Beth chuckled. Dream-Beth was a hell of a lot mouthier than awake-Beth.

  As he slid her onto the seat of his motorbike in front of him Rusty growled. “Don’t worry about me not finishing, little bird. I’m more worried about you not being able to keep up.”

  “That so?” Straddled over the tank of the still-warm motor, Beth was acutely aware of what she must look like. Legs open, hands behind her to steady herself, the black lace leaving pretty much nothing to the imagination. She watched Rusty and saw his nostrils flare when she sighed and opened her legs a little wider.

  “The rules,” he said.

  Dream-Beth cocked an eyebrow. “There are rules?”

  He nodded. “Everything in this shop is mine.”

  The way he said mine flooded through her, the darkness of possession a thrill rather than a threat. “And what makes you think you get to make the rules?”

  “My shop. My world. My rules.”

  “But it’s my dream.”

  “Exactly. You want this. All of this, just like you want me.” He pulled her toward him when he said that. Slid her down the tank of the bike so her pelvis was locked in with his. So close, she could feel the hard length of his cock beneath his jeans and it took everything she had not to rub herself along it. But then his hands on her waist moved up her body, sliding along the thin fabric as if he would rip it off at any moment.

  “What if I don’t agree to your rules?”

  “Too late,” he said, and pulled her toward him, bringing his lips to hers. The kiss was an echo of their first contact—it was hot, and soft, and made Beth see bright sparks behind her closed eyes. But as he demanded more of her mouth, it became more than an echo, it was fire and steam and a long hot ride with a charging engine between her legs. When he pulled back she missed the contact immediately. “You’ve overdressed.”

  The smirk felt great on her face. “Says the man fully clothed.”

  He shucked his jacket and T-shirt as she watched and then she couldn’t help herself, she put a hand to his bare chest and traced the contours there. The man was a living, breathing marble carving. Sliding first one and then the other thin strap off her shoulders, Rusty smoothed the fabric to her waist and then put his hot, hard hand on one breast. She sucked in air through her teeth as he circled the hard nipple with his thumb and the calluses from a thousand bike repairs scratched across her skin.

  “Man, you look good enough to eat right now,” he said and she looked up from watching his hand to see a fierce hunger in his eyes she’d never known before.

  “I don’t think I’d be all that tasty.”

  “Shall we see?” He slung his leg behind him and dismounted the bike, coming around to the back. Pulling her along the leather seat ’til she lay along the bike, he ripped her panties off in one swift movement. “Now you just lay on back and enjoy the ride, little bird.”

  Beth gasped as his lips touched the inside of her thigh but as she struggled to sit up he raised his head and put a hand on her stomach. “Don’t worry, little bird, I won’t open the accelerator until you’re good and ready. Just relax and hold on, you don’t want to tip the bike over, now, do you?”

  She realized he was right. Although the bike was a monster, she was strewn across it in every sense of the word. If she struggled too much it just might tip and take her with it.

  “Shall we see if you’re ready?”

  The air left her, sharp and fast and hard as his thumb circled at her entrance, lavishing in the hot, wet world her lust had created. “Oh yes, so ready,” he growled. Holding eye contact with him while he toyed wi
th her sex was mad-crazy hot. Kill-me-and-bury-me-now-it-can’t-get-any-better hot. And if she’d had any breath left in her it was gone as he snaked a finger inside her and curled it to stroke the cushioned side of her sex.

  “Oh, you like that don’t you, little bird?” Then the motor started up and her whole body thrummed with the steady vibration. But because it was a dream it didn’t frighten her, it only amplified the sensation. All she could do was whimper out a little moan as he set up a steady rhythm with his finger and massaged her thigh with his other hand as the bike growled beneath her.

  “I think I need a taste test now.” Leaving his finger inside her his head dipped between her legs and before she could say another word his mouth was at her center. His tongue teased at her clit before taking turns with his finger to dart inside her and try out her deepest juices.

  Spread out on the bike, Beth was just at the right angle to see his head at work between her legs. The sight of his dark hair next to her silky white skin was gorgeous, a black-and-white portrait of lusciousness. Then along with the growl of the bike, she felt air in her hair and realized she was moving. The bike was rolling along a highway, the sun was on her skin, Rusty was still between her thighs, and instead of panicking, she was reveling in the attention.

  “Oh yes, little bird,” he said as he came up for air and caught her watching him. “You like to see what I’m doing to you?”

  She bit her lip then nodded; what the hell.

  He grinned and while he held her gaze slid another finger deep inside her. His grin broadened, Beth felt her eyes bulge, and the moan left her lips without her bidding. When he dipped his head again she felt the tail of her orgasm running up her spine and she struggled to grasp it and hold it down. But just as she thought she was building it up enough to climax he would twist his fingers or shift his tongue and the pleasure would be ramped up even further. Finally he caught her clit in between his teeth and nipped it ever so gently even while his fingers twisted and stroked the sensitive insides of her sex.

  “Oh, god!” Bam! She exploded, her breath leaving her, her vision blurred by white hot stars, her whole body shuddering with the strength of her orgasm. Gripping the bed tightly she let go of the sensation, opening her legs wide, thrusting her pelvis up and grabbing a handful of sheets . . .

  Sheets? Something swam at her subconscious and she wondered what the distant beeping was and how the sides of Rusty’s bike had gotten so soft.

  Wait? Soft?

  Rusty lifted his face from between her legs and looked at her hungrily. “Don’t you think it’s time we finished this, little bird?” His bare chest reflected the light, making him seem even more made of stone and her body screamed oh hell yes but her mind was twisting in on itself looking for the crack that was letting light in.

  Then the beeping cut through her thoughts. The sharp blaring tones of the security system Rusty had installed to stop desperate Hell’s boys from coming to collect their bikes prematurely.

  The sound bore into her and drew her closer still to the surface of her dream. Eyes flickering, she saw bright red lights. Her racing heart stilled a moment in a panic. Where was she, what was . . . ? Her eyes flicked completely open to see her alarm, its bright red numbers illuminated, shouting out its blaring wake-up call.

  Hitting the snooze button, she collapsed back on the pillows.

  Holy. Mother. Of. Smexy. What the hell had just happened? Starting at the ceiling where the strands of dawn were just starting to stroke color onto it, Beth screwed her eyes shut and then flicked them open again. Yep, she had come, in a dream. Her whole body reverberated with the sensation and when she snuck a hand between her thighs she found her center wet and still practically quivering.

  “Shit.” The word was a whisper, but all her panic and lust and trepidation was caught up in it. She had had an orgasm, in a dream, about Rusty McKinley. And it had been one of the biggest and best orgasms of her life.

  “Shit.” Saying it again didn’t change anything but it made her feel better. What would have happened if Rusty hadn’t opened his mouth about it being his birthday when she’d first snuck into what she thought was Grim’s bed . . . ? Beth shook her head, unwilling to let herself go there. But her body was a traitor. It wanted to go there. It wanted to go there and then hit repeat about ten times because if dream-Rusty going to work on her with his mouth could make her react like that, what would real-life sex be like?

  Beth pulled her pillow out from under her head and hid under it. The last thing she needed was to give in to her dream lust-fest for Rusty. She threw the pillow across the room in frustration. No, the last thing she needed was to give in to her wide-awake lust-fest for Rusty, because having a dream like that was not something she could hide from. Her body wanted Rusty and her mind wasn’t far behind in pulling out the pom-poms. Only thing was, it could never happen. Not while she was making a life and career for herself with his brother.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “You sure?” Rusty looked Rocco in the eye but the older man didn’t flinch. Instead he nodded, slowly. “Martinez tracked it down, on the quiet.”

  Martinez stood behind Rocco and jerked his head up in agreement.

  “But you didn’t even know I was in the Reapers back home until a week or so ago,” Rusty protested. “I haven’t told you anything about their shit because I don’t know anything about their shit. Anything I had to do with the Reapers ended when I left Illinois. Period.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Their last two jobs fucked up. Their driver was a no-show and three Reapers ended up inside. They’re looking for someone to blame. When they heard you’d been in with the Reapers and had defected to us, that was enough for it to end up in your lap.”

  “But it’s got nothing to do with me.”

  “You know that, and I know that, but they don’t care about that.”

  “Fuck.”

  “About sums it up.” Rocco gave him a smile but it was cold, grim. “Reapers heard about your history from somewhere and it wasn’t us. You need to have a word with your brother.”

  “No shit.”

  “No shit. Sort it out or things will get messy. And I don’t like messy.”

  “Heads-up.” Martinez nodded at the door where Grim had just appeared. Rocco and Martinez walked away, giving Rusty some space. Rusty took a long pull on his beer as Grim approached him.

  “What’s up, bro?”

  Rusty blinked long and slow before he let himself answer. “Having a beer. Seeing the boys.”

  Grim nodded, but Rusty saw the tension build in his brother’s face as his older brother rubbed his jaw trying to hold the words in. It didn’t work. “You still going to go through with the TV show idea?”

  That was what he cared about? That Rusty got on TV? Rusty glanced over at Rocco but didn’t spill everything yet. Let Grim admit how much he’d screwed up first. “Already shot it.”

  Grim’s jaw tensed and his eyes hardened. “What the fuck? I told you it was a bad idea.”

  Rusty’s give-a-fuck meter was well and truly switched off. “You know what? I don’t really care what you think.”

  “Well, you should. I’m a part owner. You should have asked me before you went ahead with it. Have you shown it to anyone yet?”

  “Meeting the producer tomorrow. He wants to pitch it this week.”

  “Cancel.”

  “Fuck off.”

  Grim rubbed at his forehead and Rusty saw, finally, that his brother was worried. Really worried. “I know you’ve been talking. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Rusty asked.

  Grim ducked his eyes but Rusty wasn’t about to let it go. Here it was. The chance for Grim to admit that he’d ratted out Rusty to the Reapers. The only thing Rusty still didn’t know was why. “Come on. You’ve got that look. Like you put stones in someone’s tank and then realized they’ve driven halfway down the highway. You can’t hide from this. Spill.”

  Grim waved at the barkeep and waited ’til he had a beer in his hand
before he continued. He took a long pull and then, finally, looked Rusty in the eye. “When I first got up here my agent took me to a bunch of parties. You know, show me around, show me off, whatever.”

  What the hell did this have to do with ratting Rusty out with the Reapers? Rusty had to bite his tongue hard. But he managed it and nudged Grim on. “Yeah, and . . . ?”

  “I met a bunch of people. People who wanted me to do well. One of them took me under his wing. You know. Introduced me around. And when I landed my first real role he said he’d back me. All the way if I wanted him to.”

  Rusty waited for Grim to go on. Grim seemed lost in the memory and Rusty watched the emotions play out on his brother’s face. Pain, frustration, embarrassment. They were all there, it was no wonder that Grim had ended up in the movies. “And?”

  “And I let him. I mean, why wouldn’t I? He knew all the right people and he had mad cash. Like crazy. When he said he’d back me I thought that’s what he was doing. Being my sponsor or something. You know, you hear about people behind the scenes making things happen for others. He told me to get out there, live the life. Buy a car, get a lux apartment. That’s how you get noticed here, by being big and loud and shiny and expensive. He gave me a stack of cash and told me to go for it. I used some of the money to put into your garage.”

  In Rusty’s experience no one did anything for nothing. Ever. But he didn’t say that. He could see Grim struggling with his confession.

  “I did it. I bought the car. I rented the apartment. And then I started getting noticed just like he said. The part I just got is the biggest I’ve had so far and it’s really going to put me on the map. My name is out there, bro. And when I finish and I roll on to the next film, I’m going to start making some real money.”

  “So now he wants his back.”

  Grim nodded.

  Rusty finally clicked. “The money you put up for my garage. He wants that too.”