by Rylee Swann
We scramble off the bed like we’ve been caught robbing the place.
“Raven, are you—” She’s stunned, her green eyes flashing dangerously. I’m guessing I’m about to find out what the rules are about having boys in my room. “Who is this?” She takes a couple of steps over the threshold, hands planted on her hips.
“Hey, Mom.” I try for nonchalance but I’m not sure I’m pulling it off. “This is Fringe, my friend. I told you about him.”
She looks from him to me then back to him with a true Mom glare. I can’t help wondering if he’s about to be turned into dust and half stifle a laugh.
“Is something funny, Raven?”
She’s pissed way out of proportion to what she walked in on—which was nothing—but I’m grateful when Fringe steps up and takes the heat off me.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Fahr.” He holds out his hand to her. “Real sorry if we startled you.” She doesn’t make a move to shake his hand, and after a moment, he drops it back down to his side. “I was, ah, just leaving.”
“Hmm.” She nods, frowning.
“Mom! He was not.” I can’t believe how she’s treating him. “Fringe, stay, okay. Stay for dinner?”
“Nah, that’s alright. Maybe another time when you’ve given your mom some advance notice?” He nods to my mom then steps carefully around her and out of the room. “I’ll catch ya later, cool?”
“Yeah.” I sigh and follow him to the door, Mom trailing behind me.
He offers a little awkward wave and leaves.
Staring at the closed door, anger and disappoint war within me. I do a quick one-eighty and race back to my room, slamming the door shut behind me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Fringe
Brilliant.
Just fucking brilliant.
After waiting six years, I finally meet Rachel St. Claire and now she hates me.
It’s been a week and I’m still not over that disaster.
Fuck! Caught in her seventeen-year-old daughter’s bedroom. We couldn’t have looked guiltier if we’d had our pants around our ankles.
I tried to be polite. I tried to greet her like a gentleman.
She wouldn’t even shake my hand.
Dawn texted me shortly after to say she was sorry. She didn’t mention what kind of hell she was catching and hasn’t wanted to talk about it since. In fact, I haven’t seen much of her since then. A lot of texting, a couple of phone calls. She stopped at the garage once to say hi, but it was a hit-and-run. She didn’t stay long enough for us to even catch up.
Busy girl.
While I work on another Low Rider at the garage, my brain continues churning. It doesn’t seem to want to stop.
She’ll be graduating high school soon. Then what? Off to college? While I’m stuck here in my sad little rut.
I’m happy for her, really. What I also am is disgusted with myself. I wanted so much more, but someone like me doesn’t get golden opportunities handed to them. Fuck, I should have sold out and tried to get on “Canadian Idol” But I was just a kid when the show went off the air.
The one and only golden ticket I ever got was meeting Dawn in the first place. Just my luck that I value her friendship over using her to get to her rock star mom.
So, what now? What’s left?
Dead-end job. At least I like fixing bikes, but I have a feeling the job is going to get me in hot water sooner rather than later. Lucifer’s Angels want me and dear old fucking dad is on my ass about it. If I can’t stay neutral, I won’t be able to hold on to this job. I’ll have to hit the road, become the drifter everyone expects me to be.
At least I can do some good before that happens. I can stop Dawn from losing her virginity to the biggest asshole since my dad. Lobo? She can’t be serious. She just can’t see how she’ll regret that later. Regrets don’t take long to manifest. I’ve seen the look of regret and self-loathing in the eyes of some of the girls I’ve bedded the very next morning. It’s not fun being on the receiving end, so I can only imagine how much it sucks to be the girl.
I don’t want that for Dawn. She deserves so much better.
Grabbing an old rag, I wipe grease off my hands. I’ll take a break and call her—set up a time to meet, maybe take her to dinner. Talk some sense into that stubborn head of hers.
That’s when I hear them. The roar of motorcycle engines. A lot of them. Harleys.
Fuck. This can’t be good.
I head to Frank’s office just as he’s coming out, no doubt to talk to me. A bunch of bikers revving their motors in front of the shop, it must be my fault. Isn’t everything always my fault?
“What in the hell…?” There’s a hint of worry on Frank’s weathered face. He knows as well as I that more than one or two club members making noise could mean trouble.
“Stay here.” I hold my hands out, palms forward. “I’ll take care of this.”
“Now, now, wait, Fringe. I know I ride your ass but I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
I smirk and half lift a shoulder. “Nothing will. They’re not here to hurt me, just mess with me.” I don’t wait for a reply and walk with a brisk step through the door to the parking area.
I’m right. It’s the LAs revving their engines, looking for attention. Looking for me. They have their helmets off, they’re not going anywhere. The group spots me right away and Skull breaks into a broad grin.
“Hey, hey, my man, Fringe.” Skull doesn’t dismount but motions for me to come closer.
I don’t move, stay firmly planted where I am in front of the door to the shop.
“What can I do for you gentlemen?” My shout is just loud enough to be heard over the rumbling noise and my breath comes out in a plume of vapor. It’s cold out here but I don’t let it show that I feel it. Got to play the tough guy, so it wouldn’t do to start shivering, even if these cement heads are properly bundled up.
“Aww, Fringe, don’t be like that.” Skull puts a hand to his black-leather-jacket-covered heart like I’ve wounded him. “We’re all friends here, ain’t we?”
All the bikes go silent. “Sure, sure.” My ears ring in the abrupt silence. It’s not a comforting feeling. “Need help with one of your bikes, brother?”
“Nah, we’re good.” He chuckles. “We stopped by to chat, is all.”
“Look, brother, I got work to do. I’ll catch you later to chat.”
“No, we’ll talk now.” He sits up straighter and all the others come to attention.
Shit. This got serious fast.
“Alright, it’s cool,” I say to diffuse the tension.
Skull nods and takes his time lighting up a smoke.
All I’m wearing is a t-shirt. I’m fucking freezing but resist the urge to wrap my arms around myself.
He takes a long drag and blows out a couple of smoke rings before looking back at me with slitted dark eyes. “So, it’s like this, Fringe. You’ve already been hanging around Lucifer’s. It’s time to move to the next stage. Time to become an associate, my man.” He smiles like he’s just awarded me a Nobel Prize. “We’re throwing a monumental party next week. As a new associate of Lucifer’s Angels, you ought to make an appearance. Have a beer or ten. Bed a couple of our fine young biker bitches. Have fun. Get to know us better. Ya dig?”
This is trouble. Bigger than I expected. I was just given a high honor. To turn it down could be a death sentence. Fuck.
“I’m honored, brother, really, but you know I gotta stay neutral or I’ll lose my job.” I jerk a thumb back in the direction of the shop office. “He won’t let me only work on LA bikes.”
Skull scoffs and a couple of the others openly laugh. “My man, we’ll take care of that, don’t you worry.” He nods, starts his engine and it roars to life. “If you want this pissant job you can keep it, for now.” He makes a hand signal and everyone turns their engines over. He starts to pull away but looks over his shoulder at me. “Get yourself a Harley. Can’t have you showing up to the party on that tr
ike you ride around on.”
I’m given no time to reply, to accept or decline the invitation. In a roar of powerful engines and exhaust smoke, they’re gone.
I go back inside and stalk off to the bike I was working on. Picking up a wrench, I bend to the task but, instead, throw it across the garage. It hits the back wall with a loud crash and sends other tools flying. Moving to pick them up, I wind up throwing them as hard as I can back onto the shelf. They clang and bang in time with my heartbeat as I growl out my frustration.
What the fuck am I going to do?
CHAPTER NINE
Raven Dawn
The sweet aroma of marijuana permeates Lucifer’s, almost strong enough to give me a contact high as I enter.
The place is packed tonight, mostly with LAs, but there are a fair share of locals here, too. Maybe drawn in by the eighties music night? Hell, it lured me here. I know a lot of eighties music because of Mom and it’s so much fun to dance to.
I’m dressed in a tight little black miniskirt that my parents would never have let me leave the house wearing. I got away with it because, for their benefit, I put on thick black leggings that I took off on the way here, which are now tucked away in my little black bag. My shirt is an off-the-shoulder midriff that my parents don’t know I own. I left the house wearing sneakers but now I’ve got my fuck-me high heels on.
My parents don’t know I’m here either, of course. They think I’m going to the mall with Alyssa. Divine and she are two of the few friends of mine they’ve met. I’m surprised that with Mom’s history she doesn’t suspect the truth.
I am ready to party.
Divine is supposed to meet me here, so I push my way through the crowd toward the dance floor. Divine, Alyssa, Peach, and a few others are already dancing.
I jump in to squeals of delight from them just as “Funkytown” is ending. I make a mock sad face at missing the song but the DJ follows up with “Push It” and I jump up and down with everyone else, fists pumping the air. When the song changes again, we settle into some seriously nasty dance moves that have the guys whistling their appreciation.
I’m such a showoff!
We continue dancing, screaming out the lyrics of some of the best eighties dance anthems, until I peel off to get a drink. I’m parched.
At the bar, I order a water with a beer chaser and laugh as the bartender winks at me. I wink back and slide a fifty into his hand. That’ll help even out all the freebies. Gulping down the water, I’m oblivious to my surroundings until there’s an insistent tapping on my shoulder. I look up to find that a joint is being passed my way. I take it, fill my lungs with a long drag, and chase that with my beer as I hand the reefer off to the next person.
On my way back to the dance floor, I spot Lobo in a booth. He’s by himself, which is unusual, and I stop to say hello. My mouth drops open when I see he’s not alone—there’s some slut under the table sucking him off. It’s not like we’re exclusive or anything, but it’s still shocking to see.
He looks up at me with a smirk and pats the booth beside him. “Hey, Almost, join me.”
“Stop fucking calling me that,” I snap.
He laughs condescendingly and raises his eyebrows. “C’mere and kiss me with that filthy mouth of yours.”
Lobo is the perfect kind of bad boy. Ridiculously hot, a good kisser, and doesn’t want anything more from me than to pop my cherry. My kind of guy. I don’t want to get tied down to any one guy at almost eighteen.
“You serious?” Like, he really wants me to join that party?
He holds out his half empty beer bottle and I grab it, taking a long gulp. It’s still cold, thank goodness. Warm beer tastes like piss. I tip back the rest of the Lobo’s beer and he nods his approval. He pats the seat beside him again, then growls, “Slow down, bitch. I want this to last.”
“What?” I’m confused.
“Not you, Almos—Dawn. Her.” He jerks his head to the girl blowing him. “C’mon. Sit down.”
I have no intention of sitting down while that’s going on under the table, but just then I get jostled by the crowd moving through. I stumble and Lobo grabs my arm, pulling me down next to him. I have a clear view now of the action going on under the booth and it’s like a car accident—I can’t seem to look away. I think I recognize her. Violet, to match the color she dyes her hair.
Lobo drapes an arm around my shoulders and pulls me in close, trapping me. I drag my eyes away from his cock to look at him as his lips close over mine, and he takes it into a heated kiss. He’s insistent with his tongue and pushes his way into my mouth, where my tongue clashes with his until they’re dancing in a mad frenzy. It’s beyond weird to be doing this with Violet down there doing that but Lobo seems to be enjoying it. Why wouldn’t he be, I realize, and laugh a little into his mouth.
“Something funny, babe?” His voice is rough, sexy, and tickles my neck as he nuzzles into it, biting down playfully before picking up a fresh beer someone brought over and taking a swig.
I shake my head and also take a sip of my beer.
“I didn’t think so.” He puts his beer down and moves his hand to my breast, lightly caressing my nipple.
The material of my shirt is thin and I gasp as it pebbles beneath his touch.
He grunts in appreciation. “You’re fucking hot tonight, Dawn. Fuck, I wanna plow you right here, right now.” For emphasis, he pinches my nipple, sending shockwaves of electricity sizzling through my body.
I shake my head and try to pull away, but he holds me close.
“I know, I know. You wanna fucking wait till your birthday. Fuck, baby, what’s a few days either way?” He pulls my shirt down to expose the breast he’s been teasing but quickly covers it with his hand, molding it, shaping. I gasp again and a shudder goes through my body. Fuck. He knows how to touch me, and I almost want to give in.
He bends down and licks the underside of my breast. I almost pass out, it feels so good.
“Drink up, babe. This is more fun when you’re buzzed.” With his free hand, he hands me my beer and then grabs Violet’s hair and tugs on it. Her lips come off his cock with a slick, wet, popping sound. “Keep it nice and slow until I tell ya I wanna finish. Got it?”
She nods and kisses the tip then holds his length in her hands, stroking lightly.
“Do you like this?” he asks and pinches my nipple again.
I gasp and arch my back, moving into the sensation. “Yes.” We’ve messed around before, but not in public like this, and I know he likes me to answer.
“And this?” He takes my nipple into his mouth, grazing his teeth over it.
I shiver to his touch. “Fuck, yes,” I whimper with an expulsion of breath.
He continues sucking and I bury my hand in his hair. He keeps himself clean, unlike some of the other older bikers, and I thrill to the silken feel of it.
Still sucking, tugging and teasing my hard bud with his teeth, his hand snakes down my stomach to between my legs. He rubs his thumb against my mound, over my panties, and I grab his hand, trying to push it away. In turn, he pushes my hand to the side and we hand wrestle for a moment until he lifts his head from my breast. I feel the neglect immediately and whimper.
“Let me at it, babe. You know you want me to.” Before I can answer, he bites down on my earlobe, sending a delicious sizzle through me.
What the fuck? Why is that erotic?
Though I’d like to, I can’t forget where I am. “No, no, baby. It’s not right… not here.” My voice is breathless and I wonder for a moment if he heard me.
“Let me in, c’mon.”
He’s fast and before I can stop him, his hand is at my mound again, lifting my panties away and slipping in. No one has ever touched me there except for the gynecologist and alarm bells go off in my head. I stiffen and panic, trying to pull away.
“Hey, hey, Dawn, it’s alright. I know what I’m doing. Tell me this doesn’t feel good.”
He lightly rubs a finger up and down my clit and my
eyes pop wide open to stare at his face like I’m seeing him for the first time. Holy fuck, that was good.
Seeing my expression, he smiles triumphantly. “Yeah, you liked that.” He nods and strokes me again to my openmouthed gasp. “Yeah, baby, let Lobo take good care of you.”
Stroke. My back arches, seeking more friction.
Stroke. As good as it feels, it’s still awkward and I tense.
“Just relax. I’m gonna make you come. Tell me.”
“I… I… y-you’re gonna make me come.”
“That’s my girl. I knew you wanted it.” He turns his head to Violet. “Start sucking on me again, but keep it slow.”
I do want it. Nothing has ever felt this good. I relax back against the booth and spread my legs a little wider for him. He continues to stroke me and tease the very tip of my clit and I jolt to each little flick. I feel like my entire body has turned to jelly and is all tied up in knots at the same time. I don’t know what to do with myself—don’t want to do anything but just sit here and ride the feelings toward their goal—but my muscles are so tense.
“Relax,” Lobo murmurs, bending his head to my breast and taking my sensitive bud between his teeth.
Little noises escape my throat and my hand whips up again to tangle in his hair. He nips with his teeth and I pull his head closer, wanting more contact.
“Lobo, you dog!” suddenly breaks through my haze and I open my eyes to a couple of LAs leering down at us. The heavy heat of embarrassment blooms in my face.
Lobo lifts his head and brings up the hand that’s around my shoulders to high five them. I’m mortified and start to struggle away but he won’t let me go.
“Oh no, you don’t. We’re not done here.” He pinches the tip of my clit with his fingers.
I yelp and slap a hand over my mouth.
Lobo laughs and motions to the LAs. “Take a hike. I’ll catch up with ya later.”
When they’re gone, I can’t help but start to relax again to Lobo’s grunts of encouragement. His fingers are dancing expertly over my pussy lips then to my clit and back again, teasing me to the point of explosion.
“They weren’t the first ones to stop and watch.” He wags his eyebrows then takes my nipple into his mouth and sucks down hard, his fingers still toying with me.