Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Nevaeh
W arm lips skim the back of my neck, sending shivers through me as my dream guy wraps his rough hands around me. I sigh, his hard body feeling like a safe haven against mine.
When his hand slips under my top to cup my lace-covered breast, I let out a soft whimper, making him growl in response. His eager fingers tease my nipple, tugging it lightly as he grinds into me. I feel achy and needy, knowing that if this dream ends now, I’ll be left needing to find relief with my own fingers.
But instead of fading away, he removes his hand from under my top and slides it down my body, slipping his fingers under my skirt and between my legs, pressing them against the damp lace covering my pussy. His deep rumble of approval washes over me, making my nipples hard and my pussy throb with anticipation.
I might not know what to expect, but I know what I want. I’ve been dreaming of this ever since I started reading dirty books and touching myself under my cover in the dark of my bedroom. I’d swallow my whimpers and moans, scared of being caught, knowing I’d be branded a harlot—or worse—by my father.
My dream man doesn’t give a crap about rules and respectability. He’s a sinner, ready to show me heaven by dragging me through hell. When he tugs the lace of my underwear aside, I part my legs a little, inviting him to take what he wants. As he slips a finger inside me, I gasp, the sensation familiar yet foreign and so real that a whisper of doubt begins to swirl in my mind. But then he strokes a place inside that makes me forget everything but the pleasure that builds within me, and I feel myself pushing back into him, his fingers gliding in and out of me with ease. Oh God, this is the best dream ever. I’m so close...
Then the fingers disappear, and I sigh, disappointed. Of course. The dream always ends right before I reach the good part. Why would this time be any different? I think as I feel movement behind me. As the last traces of sleep fade, part of my mind clings to the dream, reluctant to let go and face reality even as awareness sets in.
My skirt is suddenly lifted over my butt, and before I can figure out what’s happening, my underwear is torn from my body, and my eyes snap open.
Clarity slams into me at the same time a huge cock does, stealing my breath and silencing my scream as all the oxygen is forced from my lungs. I whimper as pain throbs deep inside me, my body unaccustomed to anything so big.
“Jesus fuck, you’re tight,” a voice grits out from behind me. A large, rough hand wraps around my throat, cutting off my ability to speak as he fucks me with sharp, brutal thrusts.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I should be terrified. There’s a man inside me, a stranger, stealing my virginity like it’s his to claim and not giving a single fuck that he doesn’t have permission to take it.
But despite everything, I’m not. How messed up does that make me? Not only am I not scared, I can feel my orgasm tearing toward me at a blinding speed.
“So good. So fucking good,” the voice groans as he thrusts into me again and again until he curses and I feel him erupt inside me.
I cry out as I spiral right over the edge with him.
He keeps moving, slower now, gentler, helping me ride through the waves of pleasure. His hand drifts from my throat to my hip before he presses a kiss to the back of my neck and eases out of me.
My heart beats wildly out of control as I feel his cum leaking out and panic sets in. What the holy hell was I thinking? I might have been half asleep for part of it, but why didn’t I fight once I was awake? Why didn’t I at least beg him to wear a condom?
My head pounds and my stomach churns, reminding me of the alcohol I drank. It probably contributed to this. Everyone makes stupid decisions when they’re drunk, right? Still, this was one hell of a mistake. This is why I don't drink. I take a deep breath. I'm never drinking again. I need to make an appointment to get tested and?—
I’m pulled back and tucked against his hard body again, like the little spoon to his big one, and my eyes bug out of my head. I’ve never had sex before, let alone a one-night stand, but isn’t this the part where he leaves—or I get kicked out, since I’m just now realizing I’m not in my own bed?
Afraid to open my mouth and ask in case he takes that as an invitation for round two, I stay quiet and will myself to relax until he falls asleep so I can sneak out.
“You smell like vanilla fucking cupcakes,” he grumbles, burying his face in my hair and inhaling deeply.
His voice does something funny to my insides, making my stomach clench. Wait, am I attracted to him? No, that can’t be true. How is that freaking possible? For all I know, he looks like Sasquatch. But then I remember the way he felt inside me and how he’s wrapped around me almost protectively. With that and the gravel effect his voice has on me, two things become glaringly obvious. First, I need to get the heck out of here. And second, somewhere between my first drink and losing my virginity, I went and lost my damn mind.
It takes forever to slip out of the biker’s arms. Inch by inch, I make it to the edge of the bed before easing myself off. I stand for a moment, afraid to move or even breathe in case I wake him. When only his deep breathing fills the room, I blow out a relieved breath.
Looking down, I find what’s left of my panties on the floor and snatch them up, feeling my face flame. My heart pounds as I glance around, hoping not to wake him. I spot my phone on the bedside table next to a note. I grab both, my hand trembling as I quickly read the piece of paper.
Hey Pippin, you had too much to drink, so G carried you up here , and we put you to bed. This is one of the spare rooms, so there’s no need to worry. There are some pills, water, and your phone on the table.
Text me when you’re awake.
Love you,
Amity
No need to worry, my ass. I crumple up the note in my hand and glare at the stupid bed and the stupid biker lying in it, my eyes moving over the ink etched golden skin of his chest.
The sheet covers him from the waist down, but I don’t need X-ray vision to know what he looks like underneath. I have a pretty good imagination, and considering how sore I am, he’s definitely not lacking. My eyes travel up to his face, and I suck in a sharp breath.
I’ve never dated, except for the ridiculous dates my father arranged for me. I never thought I had a type. I just knew what I didn’t like (aka the kind of men my father set me up with), but I’ve always been drawn to large men who look a little rough around the edges. Nothing against pretty boys, there’s just something about bigger men that makes me feel…. Ugh. For a writer, I’m terrible at putting my feelings into words.
As I take in Havoc’s familiar face—the sharp jaw covered in a five o’clock shadow, his slightly crooked nose with a bump at the bridge telling a story of how many times it’s been broken, and his thick blond hair, long on top and shaved at the sides—I realize I do have a type, and it’s him. A barbarian-looking beast of a man, like a Viking from one of my books, who wouldn’t think twice about taking what he wants. And God help me, he did take what he wanted and I let him. Heck, I’d let him do a whole lot more than that. I’d let him pillage parts of me I’d locked down tight and drop to my knees in servitude. Something tells me there would be war, a battle of wills between us if I ran and he chased me. I’d fight of course, but he’d disarm me, my resistance nothing more than foreplay between us.
This man could make me feel like a queen, but he’d demand everything from me, and I have nothing to give.
I’m a shadow of the girl I used to be. All my emotions are held together with Sticky tape and PV Glue thanks to the ten-year-old version of me trying to navigate grown up feelings. Now adult me feels out of her depth. And this paper-mache heart of mine wouldn’t stand a chance against a man like him
I shake myself out of my thoughts and hurry over to the door where I saw my bag and shoes just moments ago. I have to leave. Standing here daydreaming is the quickest way to get caught. I grab my bag and shove my phone and the letter inside and slip my shoes on, buckling the straps with shaky hands.
I take one more look at the bed, leaving me feeling hollow inside, and as I turn, I spot my ribbon on the bedside table. I hesitate, and then—because I’m an idiot—I decide to leave it behind. A part of me needs this man to remember me.
Why shouldn’t he be haunted by the girl who ghosts him? The thought makes me smile as I quietly slip out of the room and head downstairs. I know I’m somewhere in the clubhouse; I just don’t know where exactly. The last thing I want is for people to see me like this. I feel like there is a neon sign above my head flashing devirginized.
Luckily, there’s a door at the bottom of the stairs that leads outside. Opening it, I take a deep breath of fresh air and walk around the front of the building and down the dirt road back to my car, not running into anyone on my way.
I spot Hoops at the gate and wonder if the prospects ever sleep. Shrugging, I climb into the car and toss my bag into the passenger seat before he spots me and starts flirting. I start the car and wait for Hoops to let me out. I avoid eye contact and give him a brief wave before I pull out and head straight for the movie set.
All I want to do is curl up in a ball and pretend last night didn’t happen. But I know that’s not an option. And the closer I get to the set, the more on edge I feel.
Eventually, I pull over. My hands are shaking like crazy as the reality of what happened crashes into me. I had sex––really good sex with a smoking hot biker.
Dear sweet baby Jesus.
Feeling overwhelmed, I pull my phone from my bag to text Amity, deciding to hide out at the diner or the library instead of heading back to the set, when I see the email from SmutFest. Biting my lip, I email the coordinator and accept the invitation. Within moments, my phone pings with a new email from SmutFest thanking me profusely.I scan quickly over the details regarding hotels and tickets, feeling my nerves settle when I see everything is already organized as if they were just waiting for me to say yes.
I blow out a breath. I'm going to London. I can't believe it. I’m a nobody from a small town who has limited life experiences. I’ve lived more in the last twenty-four hours than I have in the last twenty-four years. That’s as terrifying as it is exciting. Is this what Amity feels like when she's doing her crazy stunts?
Shaking my head, my thoughts drift back to last night.I won’t be able to hide what happened from Amity for long, so I decide to tell a little white lie to buy myself some time and space to process everything. I’m going to fly out early and hang out in the hotel for a little while. I can deal with it all when I get back. Maybe then I won’t feel so out of my depth.
With a plan in mind, I start driving again. Fifteen minutes later, I wave to the security guy as he nods for me to drive through, and I park next to the RV. Amity’s standing at the door, waiting for me to get out of the car. I can tell by the look on her face she wants to tease me about last night.
Lord, if only she knew the truth.
I climb out of the car and turn to grab my bag from the passenger seat when a slight breeze has me holding down my skirt, conscious that I’m not wearing underwear.
Closing my door, I walk over to Amity. She must see something on my face because her smirk drops.
“You okay?” she asks.She really is far too observant for my liking.
“Peachy, but I got woken up by a call from the book signing people; they want me to fly out today. A ticket will be waiting for me at the airport when I get there,” I tell her, hoping she buys it and doesn’t realize that I’m full of crap.
“Oh wow, that’s fast. I thought you weren’t leaving until next week.”
“That was the plan, but they decided to add a meet-and-greet, and they were worried about jet lag, so now that means I need to pack like a crazy person.” Lord, I’m going to hell.“What the heck do I wear? I mean, it’s London; it rains a lot there, doesn’t it?” Asking about the weather is normal, right?
She shrugs. “Who knows? The weather over there’s bipolar.”
“It doesn’t matter; I’ll figure it out. I can always pick up a few things while I’m there. Oh God, I’m nervous.” And a liar. And not a virgin , I think, smoothing my damp hands down my skirt.
She walks over and wraps her arms around me. “Breathe. You’re going to have a blast. I’m going to miss you, though. Take a thousand pictures for me.”
“I will, I promise. Wow, if my dad knew I was doing this, he’d have a heart attack.” Especially if he knew about the big bad biker deflowering me, too. God, I’m gonna be sick.
“He’ll get over it. Besides, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
Blowing out a shaky breath, I nod, tucking my hair behind my ear, feeling like the world’s biggest liar, liar, pants on fire.
“I wish I could go with you. If it were just a few weeks later…”
“Nope. Don’t you dare feel guilty. I’m the one who said yes to this after I’d already agreed to work for you. If anyone should feel guilty, it’s me.” And boy, do I feel guilty for so many things.
“How about we both just agree to be guilt-free, then?”
“Deal. And hey, at least you get to rock the RV with Mr. MC for a couple weeks,” I joke, trying not to think of another biker boy and his hands.
“Mm-hmm…” she mumbles as we head inside the RV, making me pause my freak-out for a moment.
“What’s that supposed to mean? You guys are okay, right?” I ask over my shoulder as we head into the bedroom.
“I’m mad at him right now, but we’ll figure it out.” She sighs and sits on the bed as I drag my suitcase out from under the bed and start throwing things into it.
“What happened?” I ask. They seemed fine yesterday.
She bites her lip and tells me about waking up alone, finding out he spent the night in her room, that Monica was wearing her helmet on the back of G’s bike, and then the angry words they exchanged afterward. I listen to it all while I continue to pack.
Once she’s done talking, she gets up and grabs my toiletries from the bathroom. While she does, I sit on the bed and consider my words.
“You know I always have your back. Always. So if you need me to hate G, I will. I’ll cut nipple holes in all of his T-shirts and spill a Coke on his keyboard.”
She smiles, sitting beside me and leaning her head on my shoulder. “I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming on.”
“ But I think you overreacted. Could he have made different choices? Sure. But at the end of the day, his job is to keep Monica safe. So if that means checking on her in the middle of the night or having her on the back of his bike, then so be it. It’s not like he wants her. Anyone with eyes can see that. Now, with that being said, if her being on the back of his bike bothers you so much, then I think a little revenge is in order. Get bestie number two to give you a ride. Toot seems like he’d have no problem messing with G.”
“Great minds think alike,” she says. “I told him to ask Havoc to come pick me up. I could tell he wanted to argue when I told him it didn’t mean anything, but he couldn’t without proving my point.”
I flinch at the sound of his name but thankfully she doesn’t notice. I swallow down the pang of jealously at the thought of Amity on the back of his bike, knowing I’m being ridiculous. I plaster a smile on my face.
“So devious. It’s my second favorite thing about you.”
“Really? What’s the first?”
“Your excellent taste in best friends, obviously,” I tell her.
“Obviously,” she says dryly, and I poke her in the ribs, making her laugh.
“Just give him a chance to make it up to you, okay?” I say, giving her a look, and she nods. “Besides, I’ve heard both angry sex and makeup sex are the best.”
“You’re not just as short as Yoda; you’re as wise as him too.”
“I’m tall enough to punch you in the boob,” I tell her, and she jumps away from me, laughing.
“I can’t believe my little baby is all grown up and...”
“Saving China?” I finish, laughing.
“I was channeling my inner Mushu, yes, but I was going to say—going to London without me.”
“As much as I love a Mulan quote, I’m a big girl, Amity. I can handle myself. I know it doesn’t seem like it sometimes because I let people walk all over me, but—” She covers my mouth with her hand.
“I know you can. I’m just protective of you. If I didn’t think you could handle yourself, I wouldn’t let you get on a plane and fly a continent away from me.”
She pulls her hand away.
“Alright, I believe you.” I pull her to me and hug her tight. For a moment, I consider telling her about Havoc. But when I open my mouth, nothing comes out.
“I’ve gotta go. I’m supposed to be in wardrobe right now. I just wanted you to know I’m so proud of you, Nevaeh, and I know Citlalli would be too.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely.”
After one last hug, Amity leaves, and I finish packing, then take a quick shower. I dry off and get dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a flannel. Wearing a skirt makes me think of Havoc slipping his hand under it, and I just can’t right now.
I grab my laptop and put it in my bag, pull up the handle on my luggage, and drag it outside. Once I’ve locked the door of the RV, I take my bags over to my car and load them in. I climb back into the driver’s seat and take a deep breath and remind myself that everything is fine. So I slept with a sexy biker and lied to my best friend. It’s not a big deal.
Sure, and denial is not just a river in Egypt.