Bound to the Bad Boy

by Molly Ann Wishlade

  And Matt had always looked out for her.

  She trembled all over. Partly from the intensity of her explosion, partly from cold as the perspiration dried on her skin and partly from distress as the painful thoughts crept back in.

  What was it that she so feared? Not being normal? Not living life on the straight and narrow?

  Perhaps.

  But she suspected, deep down, that it was more than that. She feared her own heart. Feared being so deeply and madly in love with Matt. She knew that he experienced a lot of female attention. Although she had seen him literally swat the hangers-on away like flies when they’d been together. She didn’t believe, really, that he had ever cheated.

  But he could.

  And there was the way that the Night Warriors had always attracted police attention. The local force was always looking for ways to pin crimes on the motorcycle club. Even with all that the bikers did for Cherub. What had happened with Matt was a perfect example. Yet, part of her mind nagged at her. What if, that one time, he had been guilty? It was too awful to contemplate. His lawyer had managed to get him off after he’d served six months and Megan suspected that he had filed a plea that there wasn’t sufficient evidence that Matt had committed the crime. That he’d been set up. Or had there been something else, some other evidence perhaps, which had emerged and proved his innocence?

  No smoke without fire…

  Ironic use of that imagery. It had, after all, been a fire that had killed the high school janitor.

  Where was the relaxing post-orgasmic glow? The trouble was, that with Matt everything was always so intense that it sent her hurtling into emotional turmoil. It was as if the physical stimulation and climactic explosion brought other things to the surface, leaving her dazed and confused, battling long buried parts of herself. It could be exhausting but it could also be so refreshing and so rewarding. If she could just surrender to it all and accept it as it was. Stop fighting. Stop questioning. Just be.

  “Megan?” Matt broke into her thoughts and she blinked hard, trying to banish the unsteadying images that coursed through her brain.

  “Yes, Master?”

  “I’m going to release you now.”

  He removed the cuffs and helped her sit up. He rubbed her wrists and arms, soothing the tingling as the blood rushed back in. So tender. So attentive. And he hadn’t even had any relief himself.

  “Are you ready for me to remove the clamps?”

  “I…I think so.” Megan recalled this part of using nipple clamps with sudden clarity. It was often worse that having them put on.

  “Ready?”

  “I guess so.”

  Matt released her left nipple and she cried out as it throbbed. He took the tender nub into his mouth and laved it with his hot tongue, easing away the ache. He repeated the process with the other one, careful to ease Megan’s discomfort. When the pain had receded, she lifted her arms and stretched them above her head. She ran her hands through her thick auburn hair and pushed it behind her ears.

  “Thank you, Master.” She looked down at the floor.

  Matt placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head so that she met his eyes.

  “It’s good to see you again, Megan. I really missed you.”

  She smiled as he enveloped her in his arms and she rested her head against his strong chest.

  “I have missed you too, Master.” More than I care to admit.

  Chapter Five

  Megan stirred in the large bed in the grey light of dawn. She blinked. For a moment she was disoriented.

  Then it all came flooding back.

  The reunion. Seeing Matt. Coming back to his grand house on the back of his motorcycle, just like when they were teenagers. Being given the grand tour. Their play in the kitchen.

  And then…

  Then they had shared a meal and a bottle of wine. Keeping the topics light, they had talked about old times, the good times before she went to college and the fun they had enjoyed. When Megan had checked the time, it was past 2:00 a.m. and she had panicked. She needed to get back to her hotel. The small establishment was run by a local family and no doubt she would have given them something to gossip about. But she had been out for the night at the reunion and she suspected that lots of singletons in town for the event might well have shared a bed with an old flame.

  Or was it just her? Was she still different, even after all these years? Was she still a fool, led by her wayward heart and her needy pussy?

  She turned onto her side and gazed in awe at the beauty of the man beside her. Matt lay on his back, his arms flung above his head, his face peaceful in sleep. His dark hair was messy and his face now bore a fine shading of stubble. His full, wide lips were slightly parted. The sheets covered only the lower half of his body, so she was able to gaze at his shoulders, his chest, the deep square lines of his stomach. In all of her imaginings, she had never perfectly captured his raw male splendor. He was perfect. Gorgeous. And it hurt her to look at him because she realized how much she wanted him. Still cared for him.

  Still love him.

  No! You cannot go back there.

  She perused his ink. His shoulders were covered in a complex web of skulls, motorcycles and symbols. The justice scales adorned the shoulder closest to her, featuring a blindfolded Statue of Liberty at their center. His right pectoral muscle bore an eagle clutching a banner that read Live Free…Ride Free. Over his heart was an American flag, proud and colorful, displaying Matt’s patriotic nature: The love for his country, which sometimes conflicted with his disappointment, in certain elements of society. Matt had always had strong beliefs about right and wrong and it was one of the things about him that Megan had loved. But it was also one of the things that sometimes got him into trouble. In school, in Cherub and when he was on the road with the Night Warriors.

  Unable to resist any longer, Megan ran a finger gently along his black brows. They were shiny and curved, perfect frames for his chocolate brown eyes. His ebony eyelashes fluttered and his lips curled into a smile. Was he dreaming about her right now? Or did he dream of the freedom of the freeway, racing along on his motorbike with the wind rushing past and his leathers warmed by the sun? She was overcome with emotion as she thought of how hard it must have been for him in prison, unable to ride his beloved Harley, locked behind bars that prevented him roaming the free spaces of the USA.

  She stroked his strong jawline and his thick neck with its prominent Adam’s apple, then the hollow at his throat. Tears threatened. In their four years apart he had only grown more attractive. The move out of his mid-twenties had honed his features just as his workouts had honed his muscles. Always busy, always somewhere doing something. That was the Matt she remembered. He never stopped. And perhaps that was one of the things that she had worried about. What if he was trying to fill some void in his life? Or hadn’t been able to sit still with her because she wasn’t enough.

  That was it.

  Her own addiction to him had terrified her when she went away to college and wondered how she would cope without him. But she had also struggled with the thought that maybe, if not then, but one day, he would turn around and tell her that he needed more. He needed an old lady and a sub who could offer him far more than she could. It hadn’t been that he didn’t make her feel loved and secure, because he had. But her own insecurities and self-doubts mingled with her growing awareness of exactly how much she needed this man had swamped her like a huge wet cobweb, which she could not extricate herself from. When Matt had been sent down, it had given her the perfect excuse to tell herself that she did in fact want to lead a ‘normal’ life. To be with a man who didn’t get stopped regularly by the cops or have to drop everything to rush to the side of a biker buddy in need.

  So she had broken it off. Cut her ties to the bad boy. Severed all links, except for those that still hung around in her heart, floating like a jellyfish’s tentacles, stinging and deadly reminders of what she had lost.

  As she caressed Matt’s
chest, tracing the patterns of his ink, he suddenly caught her wrist with his hand and stared at her. Megan’s heart thudded like a drum and her pussy creamed at the mischief in his sleepy eyes. She yearned to fling her leg over him and lower herself onto his morning erection then ride him until he felt his hot seed fill her body.

  “Well, good morning.” He turned onto his side and took hold of her other wrist before stretching her arms above her head and moving over her. His hard cock brushed against her naked pussy and she moaned.

  “Good morning, Master.”

  “How did you sleep?”

  Megan pondered the question. She had slept very well. Better than she’d slept in a long, long time. It must have been due to the intensity of her pleasure during their play and the delicious wine. A heady combination. Matt moved his body so that his erection tickled her clit. He was so hard, so big, and so ready for her.

  “I slept soundly, Master.”

  Please fuck me now.

  “You did. I know it because…” He grinned and his brown eyes crinkled endearingly at the corners. “You did some of your cute little piglet snores.”

  “I did not!” Megan wriggled beneath him in protest.

  He nodded. “Just like always. Some things never change.”

  Megan laughed. He had always claimed that she snored when she was really relaxed. Not like a loud, unpleasant foghorn but sweet little noises like a suckling pig. It had been one of their shared jokes and one he used to tease her to the point of feigned indignation.

  “Master?”

  “Sub?”

  “What are we doing?”

  A frown darkened his face and he shifted so that his thick cock stopped probing her pussy.

  Damn. You’ve destroyed the moment.

  “I hoped you would come back one day, Megan.” Using her name now, not her title. More serious.

  “You did?”

  “It hurt me so much when you left but I knew that I had to let you go. It wouldn’t have been fair to keep you here…if it wasn’t what you wanted.”

  Megan took a steadying breath. Could she really ask the question that had raced through her head since she’d received the invitation to the reunion? If I go back…and see him again…what will happen? What will it mean?

  “And now, Matt? What about now?”

  It was out. But did she want to hear the answer?

  “And now…” He stared at her. His pupils dilated and Megan felt herself being dragged into their endless depths. Matt was dark and deep. She had thought that she understood him, that she knew him well. But if he had committed that awful crime, then she hadn’t really known him at all. “Now I’m real glad to see you.”

  Real glad to see you? Was that it? Did he not have feelings other than that, which he needed to share with her? Did he want her to stay or to go? Was this just a bit of fun for him? Was he now too busy with the hangers on who swarmed the clubhouse like greedy little ants all desperate for a crumb from the high table?

  “How long are you in town?”

  She chewed her lip as she thought about it. She had a week off work and had booked the hotel room for four nights. She had told herself that she only intended on staying for one week but now she knew that she had hoped to remain in Cherub for a while longer.

  “I’m here for a few days. There are things I want to do…like visit the old cabin...check out my old home.”

  Matt nodded. “It’s been empty since your folks left. I’ll bet it’s pretty run down now.”

  “I know. But I wanted to see the old place again.” The hut and grounds where she’d spent her childhood. Where she had taken Matt when they began dating. Where she had been when life was sweet and young and seemed full of potential. When anything seemed possible. She wanted to go back there just to see if she could recapture some of that feeling. Even if it was sentimental and foolish. You couldn’t go back, only forwards. Right?

  “Well I’ve got a few things I have to get done today but I could take you up there tomorrow or maybe the day after. How does that sound?”

  “That’d be great. Thanks.” He had things to do? She wouldn’t be spending the day with him? Well what did she expect? She had dumped him four years ago and severed all contact. She had hurt him. Just because they’d had one hot and steamy night together didn’t mean that he belonged to her again. If he ever had. She had to pull herself together. Maybe she should just get her things together and get the hell out of Cherub before she ended up in over her head again.

  That would be the wise thing to do.

  “And…uh…if you’re up for it…I’m going to Club Castille tonight.”

  He waited, one eyebrow raised in query.

  Did she want to return to the BDSM club that they had visited before their split? If she didn’t go with him, who would he scene with? Was she really up to a return to the scene…in public?

  As Matt began to kiss her neck, her breasts, her stomach then disappeared beneath the sheets, she started to think that maybe she was. Maybe it would be good to go there with him. As his sub. They could test out their relationship…if it was a relationship. Scene together and test the waters again.

  It might show them that this really was just a one off. A reunion fired by a love from the past. A brief interlude into the passion and bond that they had once shared. Then they would be able to part amicably and return to their separate lives once more.

  But lying there in Matt’s bed with his head between her legs, his hot mouth covering her most sensitive place, Megan knew that, for her at least, this was no brief interlude.

  This was a step back into what had been the highlight of her life. With the man she had loved more than she loved herself.

  Chapter Six

  Matt watched Megan stroll into the bathroom then he got up and began to dress. Boy, was he in trouble. He couldn’t believe how deeply she had gotten to him in such a short time. But then he’d never stopped loving her. He had thought about her every day since she’d left and dreamt about her almost every night.

  Losing her had sent him spiraling out of control. Without Megan, his life sucked. He had struggled to keep going. But as vice chairman of the Cherub Chapter of the Night Warriors Motorcycle Club, he had responsibilities. You didn’t just wimp out because your old lady dumped you like a sack of old clothes. So he had forced himself to put one foot in front of the other each day. It had been tough. But he had done it. Could he do it again?

  Seeing her last night. Playing with her. Watching her fall asleep and listening to her cute little snores, which meant she was totally relaxed. All that was different to just remembering. Her sweet, soft skin the color of cream. Her wavy red hair, like a waterfall. The freckles on her little nose and across her chest. Her delightful curvy body with breasts that could make a grown man weep... And her gentle, unassuming nature. All these things whirled around inside him. Every one a reason to love her. To want her. To need her.

  And all reasons why he shouldn’t be allowing her to get under his skin again. He was an adult now. No longer teetering on the brink between being a teenager and a grown man. He had loved Megan with all of his heart and wanted to give her the world. But that wasn’t enough for her four years ago. So how could he know if it would be enough for her now?

  His suggestion that they visit the club was one way of finding out more about the woman Megan had become. They’d been separated by time and distance and he didn’t know if her priorities and her needs were the same as they had been. Once, she had been content to be with him, to lie in his arms or sit behind him on his bike and he had believed that she wanted for nothing else. But now? She’d been away, and had time to experience a life outside of Cherub. Was that life better? Or had she discovered that the old cliché was correct—the grass is not always greener?

  So many questions. So many fears. He didn’t want to scare her away or to spoil their time together by pestering her with them all. But he needed to know how she felt. She had booked the hotel room for four nights and spe
nt the first night with him. Time was short, but already they’d experienced some of their former closeness. If it was real, or just a resurgence of former emotions, he wasn’t yet sure. It was possible that their love could be rekindled, dragged back from where it had gone to rest and it might even emerge stronger, better, more grown-up than before. When he was with Megan he believed that anything was possible. Without her, the horizon was bleak.

  So a visit to Club Castille seemed appropriate. It would be a way to explore their deeper feelings. At such an establishment there was no way of hiding the truth. It would out itself and then he would know. If this was just a temporary lift in an otherwise empty existence, he would take it into his hands and hold it tight, enjoy every second of it then allow Megan to walk away. But if there were more to it, he would find out and make sure he never let Megan go again.

  Not making love to her, at least not fully, was one way he could maintain his clarity and sense of objectivity. Though he might be a boiling pot of emotions, not penetrating her allowed him to observe her and to assess her. He knew that if he entered her hot, feminine body, he would be unable to think clearly and that could ruin everything. Once he gave in to his primitive urges to fully immerse himself in her both physically and emotionally, he would be lost forever. And if she didn’t choose to be with him after that, then he would be a completely lost cause.

  So he was being strong. Using every ounce of his willpower. And man, it was hard. His dick was like titanium. He could hang his leather jacket on it and walk around like a human coat hanger. Maybe even carry his bike on it too.

  The sound of the shower running stirred him into action. He could pop in there and soap Megan’s back. Nothing wrong with that. He’d already made her come twice this morning and he loved giving her pleasure. It was better than his own orgasm because he loved her and wanted to make her feel good. His own climax was always the icing on the cake, but he would have to wait before he got in that deep.