A Kiss For You

by Rachel Van Dyken

  I would be a biker whore because it was what I needed to be. I would be a tightrope walker if that’s what it took to stay alive.

  With newfound determination, I walked back around to the bonfire, grabbed a beer out of the cooler, and cracked it open. The cool liquid lubricated my dry scratchy throat. I darted around from biker to biker and the girls who had their attention. I found myself particularly interested in a girl straddling the lap of a biker who must have outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds.

  It was the look on her face I was intrigued by. The smile she wore that said your dick would feel great jammed down my throat. I mimicked her demeanor, and hoped it was enough to get the attention of someone who would take an interest in me.

  Someone who could help me survive.

  “Hey there,” a deep voice rumbled against my ear.

  When I turned around, I was eye level with a wall of leather with white patches sewn into it. One read VICE PRESIDENT and the other, BEACH BASTARDS. The man wearing the vest had long blonde hair that draped over to one side of his head, revealing the shaved area beneath. He had a beard, not stubble, a full-on beard that was a few inches long and very well groomed. He stood well over six feet, his frame lean yet very cut and muscular. I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were because his lids hung heavy and were slightly reddened. His entire neck was covered with colorful tattoos and when he went to light a cigarette I noticed that the backs of both of his hands and were covered in ink as well.

  “Hey,” I answered back, trying to assert my newly found false confidence.

  He was beyond attractive. He was gorgeous. If I had to end up in someone’s bed, I imagined that being in his wouldn’t be half-bad. He sniffled, drawing attention to the light dusting of white powder trapped in his nostrils.

  “They call me Bear. You belong to anyone?” he asked seductively, leaning in toward me.

  “Maybe…you?” I winced at my choice of words. Of all the fucking things I could have said, THAT was what came to mind? Stupid fucking mouth. Nikki was right. I spoke first and thought second.

  Bear chuckled. “I’d love that, beautiful, but I’ve got something else in mind.”

  “Oh, yeah? What would that be?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light although my mind and heart were racing.

  “This party? It’s for my buddy. And he was down here for a total of thirty minutes before he hightailed it upstairs to drown himself in a bottle of Jack. He’s like a cat in a tree, can’t seem to talk him down. It’s understandable, seeing as he’s been away a while, but I figure you can help me out.”

  He hooked his finger into the front of my skirt and slowly dragged me toward him until my nipples were flush up against his chest. He pressed his fingers into the skin right above my pubic bone and I resisted the urge to jump back by biting down on my bottom lip.

  “The BBB’s have never really been his thing.” He paused when he saw the confused look on my face at his abbreviation. “Beach Bastard Bitches.” He explained. “But you? You’re new. You’re different. You’ve got this cute little innocent thing going on, but I know you’re not or you wouldn’t be at this kind of party if that was your deal. I’m thinking he’ll like you.” Bear brushed his lips against the side of my neck. “So maybe you go up there. Make him happy for me. Make little him happy by wrapping those gorgeous lips around his cock for a while. Then when you’re done, bring him back down here to civilization. And maybe later, if you’re a good girl and do what you’re told, we can go back to the clubhouse and have some real fun.” He grazed his teeth along my earlobe. “Think you can you do that for me?”

  “Yeah, yeah I can do that,” I said. My skin prickling from his touch. And I could do it.

  I think.

  “What’s your name anyway?” Bear’s hand slowly traveled up the back of my leg, pushing up my skirt, it came to rest on my ass cheek, which was then exposed to anyone who might have been looking in our direction.

  “Doe. My name is Doe,” I breathed.

  “Fitting,” He said with a chuckle. “Well, my innocent looking little Doe.” Bear leaned in close and surprised me by planting a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth. His lips were soft, and he smelled like laundry detergent mixed with liquor and cigarettes. I was just beginning to think that the kiss meant that he’d changed his mind and didn’t want to send me away to his friend, but no such luck. He pulled away abruptly and turned me around by my shoulders so that I was facing the stairs. He swatted me on my ass, propelling me forward. “Up the stairs you go, sweetheart. Last room at the end of the hallway. Be good to my boy, and me and you will get to play later.” He sealed his words with a wink and as I made my way up the stairs I turned back and flashed him a fake smile. I hoped the guy at the end of the hallway was like Bear, because then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

  Then a thought hit me that had me fighting back the tears that sprung from my eyes with a sudden force that almost took me to my knees.

  I’d officially sold myself, and the price was far more than any dollar amount.

  Doe

  Boom. Boom. Boom. Ba-boom.

  It was hard to tell where the bass ended and my pulse began.

  I wiped my palms on the tattered skirt I’d lifted from the Goodwill donation bin and maneuvered through a sea of bodies rhythmically writhing up against one another. A thick layer of smoke lay trapped under the low ceiling. Hauntingly robotic party goers danced and gyrated under the flickering lights on every available inch of floor space.

  In the dark, with only the pulsing of the lights to guide me, I made my way up the stairs, and as Bear instructed, to the door at the very end of the hallway.

  The door to my salvation.

  The door to my hell.

  I turned the handle, and the hinges shrieked. The only light in the room was courtesy of the dim and muted TV on the far wall. The heavy scent of pot wafted from the room.

  “Hello?” I squeaked into the darkness, trying as hard as I could to make my voice sound as sexy as possible, but failing miserably.

  A voice, deep and rough, broke through the silence, his words vibrating through to my very core. “Shut the fucking door.”

  Snaking its way into every crevice of my already fragile mind and body, an entirely new feeling enveloped me, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. I’d expected to feel hesitant, nervous, and even anxious.

  But what I felt was far more than that.

  It was fear.

  Heart racing. Pulse pounding. Red alert. Fear.

  The impulse to turn and run as fast as my trembling legs could carry me was overwhelming, but any thoughts of immediate escape were interrupted.

  “Door,” the voice commanded again. I hadn’t moved an inch. As much as I wanted to run, my desperation propelled me forward.

  I closed the door behind me and the chaos downstairs disappeared with a click of the latch, shutting out the noise as well as the possibility of anyone hearing my cries for help.

  “Where are you?” I asked hesitantly.

  “I’m here,” the voice said, offering no indication of where here really was. I took a deep, steadying breath and then a few steps toward the TV until I was close enough to make out the outline of a bed in the middle of the small room and a pair of long legs hanging over the edge.

  “Ummm, welcome home? Bear sent me.” Maybe, talking would give my heart time to get a grip inside my body. But the realization of what I was about to do struck me stupid and left me standing paralyzed in front of the shadow.

  Ignoring my pitiful attempt at conversation, he shuffled to the edge of the bed. Although I couldn’t make out his features, his shadowy frame was massive.

  He sat up and reached out, I braced myself for his touch, but there was no contact. Instead, he grabbed a bottle off of the nightstand behind me. He tilted it up to his mouth, taking a long, slow pull. His swallows were loud in the silence of the little room.

  Again, I wiped my palms on my skirt, hoping the darkness clo
aked my nerves better than the perspiration on my hands.

  “Do I make you nervous?” he asked, as if reading my mind. I could smell the fresh whiskey on his breath.

  “No,” I answered breathlessly, the lie getting caught in my throat. A large hand grabbed my waist roughly, tugging me into the space between his legs. His fingers dug into my hips and I squealed in surprise.

  “Don’t you lie to me, girl,” he growled, without a hint of playfulness. My blood ran cold. My heart raced. He took another swig from the bottle, reaching behind me again to set it down. This time when he trailed back, he did it slowly, rubbing his cheek against mine, his facial hair not long enough to be considered a beard but longer than stubble. Unexpected tingles danced down my spine, and I fought the urge to touch his face. “Do you always ignore people when they ask you a question?”

  Yes, yes he made me nervous. He made me so fucking nervous I couldn’t find my tongue. I didn’t expect this. I expected to spread my legs for some drunk horny asshole so he could have his way with me in a room that was too bright.

  Instead, I stood in the dark, pressed between the thighs of a man I could barely see, but the feel of him alone sent shivers up my spine.

  “I’ll take your silence to mean you want to skip the small talk.” He grabbed hold of my shoulders and shoved me down hard. I reached out to brace myself, my hands landing on rock hard thighs as my knees hit the carpet. “That’s better.”

  You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.

  “Suck me,” he ordered, leaning back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows.

  I ran my trembling hands up his thighs until I found his belt. I slowly unbuckled it, my fingertips brushed the heated skin of his stomach. His ab muscles clenched under my touch and he sucked in a breath through his teeth. I shook out my trembling hands, trying to regain some control. When I reached for his zipper, I hesitated.

  Desperate people.

  Desperate things.

  I steadied my hands as much as possible and slowly I dragged his zipper down. I closed my eyes in an effort to calm my erratic breathing, fearful that I was going to pass out and fall into his lap. I was hoping that closing my eyes was going to bring me some sort of comfort knowing I could remove myself from what I was about to do.

  I’d just gotten his zipper down and was reaching into his jeans when his voice boomed over me like a cannon shot at close range. I jumped back in surprise, falling ass first onto the carpet.

  “What the FUCK?” he roared. With my eyes closed, I hadn’t seen him turn on the side lamp, but when I looked up from the floor, I found myself staring into a beautiful pair of hate-filled green eyes, boring into me like I was the reason for everything wrong with the world.

  Familiar eyes.

  He pushed my hands away from his fly and grabbed me by the wrists. He stood and yanked me up to my feet, his hard chest pressed up against mine. “I walked in on you earlier, you were having sex with some girl,” I blurted, instantly regretting it. Fuck me and my speak-before-I-think disease.

  His tight black wife-beater showcased the ripples of his impressive muscular frame. A myriad of colorful tattoos decorated one side of his neck, chest and shoulders, continuing all the way down both arms to the backs of his hands and knuckles. He wore bracelets that weren’t actually bracelets at all, but leather belts with metal studs wrapped around his wrists and forearms. Dark hair cropped close to his head, a black stud in each ear. A white scar through his right eyebrow. Stubble on his square jaw that was more than a few days past needing a shave.

  I thought he was large when he was relentlessly pounding into the girl on the table. Even when he was only a shadow I knew he was big, but in all reality I’d had no concept of the wall of man who stood before me.

  This guy didn’t look like he hung with the wrong crowd.

  This guy was the wrong crowd.

  “You?” he asked. His nostrils flaring as he glared down at me. I don’t know what I did to make him so angry, but getting a look at him in the light made me more fearful than I ever was of him in the dark, and I wished I’d just listened to my instincts earlier and ran when I had the chance.

  “Obviously you don’t know shit because if you did you would know that what you saw wasn’t sex.”

  “I know what I saw,” I argued.

  “No, you don’t because you would know that I wasn’t having sex with her. I was fucking her.” The way he said the word fucking sent a flush of wetness into my panties.

  You stupid girl. Your brain must really be damaged, because this is not someone who warrants that type of reaction. “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “I’m no one,” I answered, truthfully. My heart ached at hearing the words spoken out loud from my own mouth.

  “You’re no fucking biker whore,” he stated flatly. He cocked his head to the side as he stared down at me. Running over my features as if he were trying to figure me out. His gaze lingering on my lips, his tongue darted out to wet his own.

  “You don’t know who I am,” I spat. I tried to take a step back but he held me firmly in place.

  “No, but biker whores typically don’t tremble and practically hyperventilate when they’re about to suck cock.” He squeezed my wrists tightly and pain shot up my arms.

  “Let me go!” I jerked my wrists unsuccessfully from his grip. I needed to get out of there, but he held me even tighter, forcing me backwards until the back of my head hit a wall.

  “So you’re saying you do this all the time then? That you know what a guy like me wants? That you know how to suck and fuck like a pro?” He ran his index finger down the side of my cheek and I tried to ignore the heat that lingered in their wake. “You think you can take care of me, little pup? Fine. We can start back up right where we left off.” He guided one of my hands to the front of his pants and held my open palm to the bulging erection threatening to spring from his open jeans. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “Aren’t you going to show me how you can make me come?” he taunted, his words a warm whisper against my ear, although the words themselves were cold. Terrifying. I could hear my blood coursing through my veins as my heart beat faster and faster. “You already made me come once tonight.” I looked at him and furrowed my brows.

  “That’s a lie. I barely touched you.”

  “No, not now. When you saw me earlier, with that girl. You stood in the doorway and you watched us. Did you like what you saw? Did you like watching me come for you?”

  “You give yourself way too much credit. I didn’t stay to watch you. I was just surprised. You were practically strangling her, why would I stay to watch that?”

  He moved his hands to my throat and squeezed hard, leaving me with just enough airway so I could still breathe. “You mean like this?” He asked, looking into my eyes as I tried to hide the terror alarms going off in my body. He was feeding off my fear.

  “Fuck you,” I spat, mustering all the courage I could manage. He was toying with me, and I may have been afraid, but I was no fucking pushover.

  “I know that you wanted to be that girl. You wanted it to be you who my cock was slamming into. I saw the way you looked at me and it made me explode. I see the way you look at me now and behind the fear you want me, maybe even because of it.”

  “You’re wrong. That’s not how I’m looking at you.”

  “No? Then tell me what you are really thinking when you look at me. Right now. What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”

  “I was thinking about what a shame it was that good looks are wasted on someone like you.” He smiled out of the corner of his mouth and squeezed my throat tighter, leaning in so that his cheek was flush with mine and I could hear his words vibrate off my skin.

  “How old are you, Pup?”

  “What the hell is it to you?” I seethed through gritted teeth.

  “I just want to know if you’re illegal.” He pulled back and his gaze roamed over my body with one long slow sweep. He released my throat and
pinned both my wrists above my head with one hand. He dipped a calloused finger into the low neckline of my tank top, slowly tracing the rounded flesh of my breasts. Goosebumps rose on the flesh of my arms.

  I inhaled sharply.

  “I’ve seen all the shit going on out there,” I said, tilting my head toward the door. “Like you really give a shit about illegal.” My breaths shallow and quick.

  “I don’t give a shit,” he said with a deep chuckle, “As a matter of fact, I’m hoping you are illegal.” He pressed his forearms against the wall on both sides of my head, caging me in with his massive frame, pressing his erection up against my stomach. “Cause I do illegal real fucking well.”

  I gasped and my lungs felt heavy in my chest. I squirmed in his grip and couldn’t decide if I wanted to rub up against him to find the friction I now craved or slap the living shit out of him. He must have sensed my indecision because he looked me in the eyes and shook his head.

  “Go ahead, Pup. But I wouldn’t if I were you.” His expression stern, his eyes dark and dangerous, glimmering with a trace of amusement. He pressed his forehead to mine and sighed. “You and I could’ve had a lot of fun, Pup.” He shook his head and for the first time I noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the redness of his eye lids.

  He looked tired. And not the kind of tired you feel after a long day, but the kind of tired that lingers no matter how much sleep you get or how much coffee you ingest. The kind of tired that is less about rest and more about unrest.

  I knew this because I was the same kind of tired.

  He released me and stepped back. The second his intimidating presence was gone from my personal space I felt the coldness of his absence.

  He grabbed the bottle from the nightstand and headed for the door.

  I was still frozen to the wall. My jaw firmly affixed to the floor.