Bound to the Bad Boy

by Molly Ann Wishlade

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2014 Molly Ann Wishlade

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-819-9

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: JC Chute

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To my own bad boy. May I always be bound to you. xxx

  BOUND TO THE BAD BOY

  Molly Ann Wishlade

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  The taxi driver pulled up outside the dilapidated, timeworn high school and Megan took a shaky breath. Her stomach churned and the palms of her hands felt clammy. She could be about to make the biggest mistake of her life.

  “You sure you’re going to a party, Miss?” Megan met the ageing driver’s olive green eyes in the rearview mirror.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you don’t look happy about it. Kinda pale and agitated, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  “I haven’t been back in a while. I guess I’m a tiny bit nervous.” She held her thumb and finger a millimeter apart and offered a smile.

  “Well, I’m sure it’ll be a good evening. Be nice to catch up with old friends.”

  “Yes.” Megan clenched her teeth. Old friends.

  She paid the man and climbed out of the cab, then walked on wobbly legs towards the large grey building. The exterior had certainly seen better days, and was in dire need of a lick of paint. The ancient windows were smudged, their broken panes covered with wooden boards. The school was clearly struggling for funding. Just like the old days. A pang of sadness pierced her, like grief for a childhood friend whose life had not improved at all.

  Megan neared the building, and everywhere she looked, she could see him. Out on the playing fields, on the basketball courts and on the lawns outside the front of the school. His presence was as solid as the wooden picnic benches, bicycle stands and basketball hoops. It made her heart pound quickly and her stomach flip.

  It was ridiculous. Unbelievable. Far-fetched.

  Get a grip.

  She wasn’t a lovesick kid anymore. At twenty-five, she was a grown woman. Or she should be. She just wished her heart wasn’t thundering the way it used to in that long, hot summer when she turned eighteen.

  And for the following three years…

  It seemed so long ago.

  Heady, romantic, possessive, delicious young love…

  The knot in her stomach tightened.

  Bruised lips… throbbing nipples… tender pussy.

  She had been just a baby at the start of their relationship, in spite of her insistence that she was all grown up. She’d been so naïve, and yet so in love. Falling for him had been easy––perhaps too easy. Her feelings for him had swallowed her whole and left her with little time or thought for anything else. Her studies had seemed irrelevant, her ambitions had dimmed and she hadn’t cared that her hippie parents had seemed even more distant and removed than ever.

  So it wasn’t surprising that losing Matt had cut her deeply and left her scarred, despite it having been her own doing. And it wasn’t something she ever intended going through again.

  I wouldn’t survive it.

  She neared the gymnasium doors and took a deep breath, tottering on her stiletto heels. Time to do this. Time to put all of her fears aside and to prove that it was over. It had been finished between them for years. It was just puppy love…intense and passionate, but it had run its course and she had moved on, as all sensible adults do.

  As Megan walked through the colorful streamers and balloons that adorned the entrance, she gripped her vermillion clutch bag. It matched her strapless dress perfectly, right down to the sequin detail at the hem. Though her bust strained against the satin, she had believed that it was sexy, not slutty, because it fell to her stocking-clad knees. Her heels were incredibly high, but she had wanted to make a statement. To be able to look her old school mates in the eye. Not to have to peer up at them, as she had as a teenager.

  She straightened her back and strode over to the welcome table.

  “Well, hello there.” A sunny blonde with a face caked in orange foundation grinned at her. “Please take a sticker and write your name and your nickname on it, then go have fun catching up.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “You look familiar…” The blonde stared at her. “Were you in my year?”

  “I…I don’t think so.” To Megan the woman looked like all the others, the ones who had at best ignored her, and at worst, tormented her with cruel words and spiteful pranks.

  The blonde’s nametag read: Lola May Williams - ‘get jiggy’.

  Megan frowned as she scribbled her own name on the sticky label and placed it above her left breast. The name Lola May didn’t ring any bells. But Megan had been a quiet teenager and kept to herself, mostly to avoid confrontation. Plus, she hadn’t enjoyed the fuss and the attention her peers craved from the opposite sex. In fact, she hadn’t ‘got jiggy’ with anyone until Matt had arrived in town, following the death of his mother.

  Matt.

  The name conjured images of a dark haired, dark eyed youth with a serious air that made some of the other kids snigger behind their hands. Not that he had cared. But Megan had liked how different he was. When most kids were being immature idiots, Matt had been a breath of fresh air. Tattooed before it was legal and riding a motorcycle like a modern-day cowboy, Matt exuded an air of excitement in his dusty leathers. He was almost two years older than Megan, but still in high school in order to graduate. His groupie mother had moved around so much that he’d missed a lot of school, so he had to make up the time.

  Matt had set her teenage pulse racing and awakened her wild side. He had brought her out of her shell, lifted her from her self-imposed isolation and helped her to blossom as she made the transformation from girl to woman. Then he had taken her virginity, just before her eighteenth birthday. The memory of that intense, emotional experience still brought heat to her cheeks and a wonderful tingling to her whole body.

  He had been a gifted and experienced lover, having learnt so much during his travels with his wayward mother. He had told Megan how his mother had often left him to his own devices and he’d gotten involved with an older crowd, with women keen to initiate a young man into the pleasures of the flesh. But he didn’t frown at Megan’s inexperience or at her shyness. Instead, he channeled his own knowledge into a fountain of tenderness that brought Megan to the edge of ecstasy repeatedly.

  The handsome, young biker had taught Megan how to overcome her awkwardness about her body, especially her large breasts, slightly wonky teeth and wavy, ginger hair. She had always been teased about these physical attributes and the bullying had made her want to hide away. To become invisible. To cease to exist. But Matt had worshipped and adored her so ardently, that Megan had soon been able to turn her own self-loathing into self-acceptance. And on the really good days, into appreciation.

  Exquisite, he had called her. With bountiful breasts, cute teeth and attractive Titian waves.

  The thought made her tingle all over. How he had worshipped her breasts, repeatedly covering them with hot kisses and cradling them in his large, firm hands. Holding them from the front, from behind, even from below when she had ridden him like a cowgirl. A
nd later, when things had progressed between them, he had shown her more things, taught her more…like how the use of nipple clamps could intensify her orgasmic delight.

  He knew so many things for one so young.

  She shivered. It had been a long time since she had allowed herself to remember Matt. Not just think about him. Really remember him. The old haze of desire swirled around her, dangerously cloudy, threatening to fog up her mind like it once had. She could see clearly now, though. The fog had lifted when she’d managed to sever all ties with him. True, it had been replaced with a void as black and cold as an abandoned mineshaft. But if he got hold of her again, she didn’t know how she’d cope.

  And it hadn’t just been his good looks and skills in the bedroom that had won her over. He was funny, intelligent and affectionate. He wasn’t like other high school boys, who focused on impressing their friends and constantly competing in one arena or another. He was his own man, loyal to his motorcycle club, yet devoted to Megan. He didn’t feel the need to brag about his conquests to try to establish some form of masculine dominance, in an effort to become the teenaged alpha male. He had no need of all that. Because he was an alpha male. In charge. In control. A natural leader.

  Yet he had ‘bad boy’ status. He had gained the unpalatable reputation because of the charter he rode with, and because of the local law force’s abhorrence of that club. When Matt had arrived in town as a younger member––already shifting from prospect to full-fledged Night Warrior––he had become their latest target. It was as if the police had decided to try to prevent his transformation, but they had failed. Harassment. Fake charges. Petty set-ups. They all fell from Matt’s broadening shoulders, like water from a duck’s back. He did not care what they thought of him, what they did to him or what they said about him. He was well read and he knew the law inside out. Better than many a high court judge, Megan had believed. Perhaps naively, but it was true that Matt did know what the police could and couldn’t do and how to warn them off.

  Before they knew it…before they could stop it…Matt had risen through the Night Warrior ranks like bubbles to the surface of a glass of champagne and become the Vice Chairman to his biological father’s Chairman. Megan knew that it wasn’t nepotism that took him there but integrity, intellect and fearlessness. If Matt hadn’t been a biker, he could have been a lawyer or a politician. But riding was in his blood and he was a free soul. She knew that it would break him to be caged to a desk, confined by the law rather than manipulating it for his own ends and that of his club.

  Stop it…stop. Not again. Oh…Matt…

  Once, twice…bound to a bad boy, did not a good girl make... And Megan didn’t want to get all muddled up again. She had always wanted to be a good girl. To please. To succeed in life. To have some praise and adoration from her parents who barely seemed aware that she existed most of the time. Being a good girl hadn’t brought her up on their radar, but neither had dating Matt, so she had long ago accepted that she would never have their approval or even their disapproval. They just didn’t care enough either way. The decision to abandon Matt had been her own, about herself and what she believed she desired above all else: to lead a normal life.

  Besides, being with Matt again could only lead to heartbreak and a turbulent future. And she had to take care of herself. Matt was tainted. Not good husband or father material. He had gone off the rails, even been sentenced to time in jail. For a crime he claimed he hadn’t committed, maybe. A crime he’d begged her to believe he wasn’t capable of. But she had wanted to believe that he was guilty.

  Back then.

  So why was she here? Why had she come back? Certainly not to visit her parents, as they had long ago moved away, intent on spreading their bear preservation message to the rest of North America.

  So if she wasn’t here for them, then why?

  The roar of a series of motorcycles as they entered the school grounds answered her question.

  Because I am a fool…an irrational, impulsive fool being led by my heart and my pussy.

  She was back to see Matt. There was no denying it.

  ****

  Megan hurried over to the refreshments stand and grabbed a cup of punch. It was unnaturally puce in color and sweetened with aspartame. It made her flinch when she took a big swig. But she needed fortifying. She couldn’t see him again without some liquid courage.

  Megan drained the cup then took another, cursing the betrayal of her trembling hand that nearly spilled the sticky liquid all over the plastic tablecloth.

  Calm down, Megan…

  The doors swung wide open and she held her breath. She tried to look away but her gaze was dragged back to the entrance. Like an addict, she craved her fix and this one had been a long time coming. Cold turkey didn’t suit everyone but for her, it had been the only way to break free.

  The scent of leather, oil and raw masculinity filled the gymnasium, a precursor to the arrival of some of the members of the Night Warriors Motorcycle Club. Megan was overwhelmed by an urge to flee. To escape the confines of the gymnasium and to race back to her safe new life. The walls seemed to close in on her as she watched the recent arrivals. The room was suddenly crammed with her old fears, and the ghosts of her adolescent years danced around her, taunting her with her teenage insecurities. She was young, small and helpless.

  A victim. Run, damn you. Run.

  But she was made of stone and, try as she might, she could not move a muscle.

  The Night Warriors strode into the gym as confidently as they had done a lifetime ago. Danger and desire in leathers. They moved with a heavy elegance, large powerful men sure of themselves and their buddies. Their jackets creaked as they walked and their heavy boots pounded relentlessly upon the aging wooden boards. Like a drumroll at an execution, Megan heard them beat out her fate.

  She bit her lip. She waited. And waited. Consumed with impatience that drowned out her fears. Where is he?

  But there was no sign.

  Where was Matt? Wasn’t he coming? What if she had come all this way for nothing?

  So you’re admitting it now, huh? You came back for him.

  She gave an involuntary little nod. It was true. It would be such a waste of time, of hope, of excitement…if Matt did not turn up. Her heart sank to her stiletto heels and she downed the full cup of punch, wincing as its sweetness filled her mouth and clung to her throat. Then she stared into the empty cup, convinced that her heart was just as void and hollow.

  So what now? Just as well, head back to the hotel. All alone, and frustrated as hell.

  She was consumed in a black cloud of disappointment and suddenly all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry. To pour her grief out onto her starched hotel pillow until her throat ached and her eyes were swollen.

  A few whoops and hollers made her look up.

  There he was…striding into the gym, about to be surrounded by old school mates. Or those who would claim to have been his friends. They gathered around him, drawn to his rugged alpha masculinity and self-confidence, as if they believed it would rub off on them.

  Clad in black from head to toe. Matt. Black leather jacket, black t-shirt stretched over his bulging chest, black Levi jeans and bulky black boots. He was older but still gorgeous.

  So gorgeous.

  Her heart picked up its pace and her body flooded with heat. Goosebumps rose on her arms and she shivered with remembered delight. Although the gymnasium stretched out between them, she could feel the boom of his laughter as it shook his broad shoulders and tightened the sinews of his throat. She was transported back to all the times when she had rested her head upon him just to feel the sheer joy of sharing his mirth. She trembled as her love for him threatened to rock her world into chaos once more.

  Matt’s hair, combed back from his forehead, exposed his flawless brow. It reached his collar and curled softly around the base of his earlobes. It was shorter than it had been the last time she had seen him, but it suited him. Megan used to love to run
her fingers through his ebony curls, to wrap them around her fingers like promise rings. As she watched him, his face lit up with a grin. It was the face of a man now, from his wide throat with its prominent Adam’s apple, to his chiseled jaw and thick, black eyebrows. And his eyes were as dark and dangerous as she remembered, windows to his intense and passionate soul.

  He moved his gaze over the crowd and panic broke the spell that had held Megan frozen. She turned away quickly and placed her cup on the table. Her whole body trembled and a hot flush spread from her ruby red toenails to the roots of her auburn hair. How could he have such an effect on her after all this time? She felt like a teenager again. Confused. Aroused. Exhilarated. Terrified.

  She had to get out. Make a quick escape. She couldn’t go on pretending she could see him and not be affected by him anymore.

  She had been consumed by her love for Matt King once.

  She couldn’t let it happen all over again.

  ****

  Megan took a wide arc around the gym, keeping to the edges. She smiled and nodded at people as she went, trying to avoid arousing suspicions about why she was leaving so soon. She kept her head down, grateful for her long, thick hair, which created a red curtain around her face.

  She picked off the sticky label bearing her name, then folded it and tucked it into her bag, swallowing a sigh at the sticky rectangular residue it had left behind on her new dress.

  Damn.

  No time to worry now, though. She’d have to see if she could get the drycleaner to remove it.

  Not that it mattered. None of it really mattered. It was all just futile and irrelevant in the grander scheme of things. It didn’t even feature on the horizon of the pain she’d suffered giving up the man she loved, and all because she couldn’t face loving him so much any longer. Was it possible to love someone too much? Megan knew it was.