Princess (13 page)
“You won’t have issues from any of my brothers or my son for that matter. I hope you’re able to bring her around with you; I’d love to finally see my daughter. This club’s her family, too, whenever she’s ready for it.”
“I’ll see you around, Prez.” Replying, I crank the engine over, the loud rumble overshadowing anything else he’d been planning to say.
He throws up a two finger salute as I walk the bike backward a few paces, his men all standing around Ares, no doubt waiting to be filled in after I’m gone. Had this whole situation not been about his daughter, though, I can’t help but think that I’d have a bullet through my skull right now for chopping off his Prospect’s.
Staring at the beat-up
building, I let loose a long sigh. After questioning myself fifty hundred times today about whether or not I should show up to meet Viking, I decided to say fuck it and drove my ass to the bar. Debate about it all I want to, if I’m not here, then I know he’ll be knocking on my door again. I can either face him in a room full of people when he’s had a drink or when we’re alone, and he’s irritated again.
Bethany’s supposed to meet me up here once she’s showered and changed from work. I still haven’t gotten her to confess what’s up with Nightmare. I’m quite stunned at her persistence; any other time I’ve been able to crack her into confessing. Her silence is making a huge statement, and I’m hoping that with her showing up tonight I’m not setting her up for failure being around Nightmare. It’s been four days since she stayed with him, maybe they’ve had time to cool off.
Crossing the threshold of the noisy bar, the music, and rowdy patrons’ conversations envelop me as I start to scan the room for Viking. Halfway through my perusal, one of his brothers approaches me. He’s a lot smaller than Vike, but still pleasant to look at with his dark features.
Stopping right in my path, he shadows me by a few inches. I’d guess him at five foot eleven or so. His sharp jaw is overtaken by at least two days of dark stubble from forgetting to shave, or not caring enough to.
A friendly smirk plays on his lips until my gaze meets his amused charcoal colored irises. “’Sup Princess.” He flashes me a bright smile that’s slightly bashful. “Sinner,” he states, his hand grabbing mine lightly to lead me farther into the bar.
Confused as to why he’s touching me, I follow a few steps before he continues, “My brother had a few things to take care of, but he’ll be back in a bit.”
Requesting any details, even something simple like what time he’ll come back, would be a waste of time, so I keep quiet. I know how bikers and their business work, thanks to my mom’s constant rambling about my father and his MC rules. It’s been drilled in that you keep your nose out of their club stuff, not only for your safety but also because it’ll cause pointless arguments.
The bartender notices Sinner approach and rushes over, ignoring the other customers waiting for their drinks.
“Refill?” the older lady questions and he shakes his head.
“Nah. Vike’s Ol’ Lady needs one of those red girly things you make.” Her mouth turns up in a friendly coffee-stained smile, and then she’s off busily mixing liquor and juices for me.
I wish I got service like that when me and Bethany order. Instead, it’s usually a dose of attitude and a shitty made drink.
Cutting straight to the chase, I lift my palm up, covered securely with his. “Umm, why are you still touching me?”
“Just being friendly to my brother’s Ol’ Lady.”
“Thanks, but please stop calling me that and I’m able to walk myself.” Using my other hand, I point at my shoes. Dutifully he looks down. “See, I have two feet just like you do.”
He flashes me a hurt glance about to say something, but the bartender approaches stealing his attention. Once he’s thanked her and has my fruity drink in hand, he starts to tug me along toward the back tables.
“Where are we going?”
“You can come sit with the brothers while you wait. No one will bother you back here.”
“Oh. They won’t mind?” I’ll admit it’s nice of him to offer. Getting attacked by the creep was traumatic enough that sitting at the bar alone is slightly intimidating even if I am inside and surrounded by people.
“Nah, they’re cool.”
“And Viking?” I only ask because I’ve seen how he acts when another male’s within two feet of me.
“Trust me; he’ll appreciate you being at our table when he gets here.” He plays it off as a random idea, but I figure it’s so he can keep an eye on me for his brother; either way, though it’s a win-win for me. I get to relax with a few free drinks and at the same time know I won’t be harassed again.
Two sex and the beaches later, along with an abundance of information on the guy’s latest conquests, and I can understand why Viking rides with them. Sure they’re scary looking and at times crude, but overall there’s a strong bond forged. Their easygoing nature and friendship with each other are enough to make any outsider want to be included.
With the vodka and sweet juice mixture working its magic over my self-preservation, I interrupt their banter by blurting out the thought that’s been running through my head all day. “I need to break it off with Viking. It was only supposed to be a one-night stand, yet I’ve seen him a few times in the past couple of weeks and then there’s tonight.”
Collectively, the entire table of men quiet. Each one is staring me down, looking as if I have the plague, and they don’t know what to do with me exactly.
“I tried to after what happened the other night, but then he showed up where I live, and I’m sure you know he’s persuasive when he wants to be.”
Spider cracks a smile, thawing the frigid awkwardness I’m suddenly surrounded with.
Taking a large gulp, I stammer on, “The man’s beyond bossy. He’s temperamental and demanding and….and each time I stand up to him, I swear he grows an extra five feet tall.” Flailing my hand dramatically, a few of the guys’ expressions lighten, amused at my description of their brother.
Scot, the older red-haired biker laughs to himself and Spider speaks up. “So, you’re saying that you stand up to him?” His irises sparkle as he glances briefly at his brothers like he’s conveying a silent message that I’m not privy to.
“Of course, I do. Don’t you?”
The table erupts in loud chuckles and Spider nods, laughing with them. “No wonder he can’t leave you alone.”
“Aye, ‘tis a good thing,” Scot agrees, winking like he’s proud of me.
They move on, picking their previous conversations back up without skipping a beat, and I grow quiet with my thoughts. Staring out the dingy pane of glass in the window beside me, my original plan that Bethany came up with plays through my mind again. Only now I feel incredibly guilty when I think of it instead of excited. Not guilt for my father, but for planning on using Viking. I should be happy right now, being one step closer to making my father miserable, but I know to do that, I’d have to give up Viking.
What do I want more? Viking? Or revenge?
It’s been no time at all; how can this even be an issue already? Sure, I’ve seen him a few times over the past few weeks, but think of those times. One was me escaping and being too chickenshit to speak to him. The second time, I was taunting him and got freaking attacked, which he saved me from, thank God. The third time, I teased him to no end with Bethany, turning him into some kind of amazing sex god who fucked me in front of a room full of people. The last time I saw him, he mauled me, thinking I was sleeping with someone, and then stormed off.
Yep, that’s the extent of our relationship. It’s been the most thrilling, life-changing experience of my life so far. What in the hell is he going to do to me if we stay together for six months? I’d be completely ruined for anyone else. Like he wanted to happen when we slept together, it’d happen with my heart as well. My vagina’s already given up; she was waving the white flag the first time she saw him.
My heartbeat starts pounding stronger in my chest as I watch Viking pull into the gravel parking lot, rolling to a stop under the bright street lamp.
Minutes pass with him remaining on his bike, not moving to dismount. I can’t make myself turn away nor do I want to, as I watch him eagerly. His ominous figure practically glows from the lamp overhead and the pitch blackness fanning out behind him, makes him appear incredibly powerful. Something must be on his mind to just sit there, lonely, not hurrying in for a drink. He knows I’m here.
I can’t wait any longer. I talk a good front in my mind and to him, but every time I see him, my insides melt. He’s like gravity, keeping me to him, even if I try to jump.
Leaving my seat without another thought, I weave around people trying to play pool and dance. My legs dutifully carry me through the bar and outside until I’m left standing in front of Viking, feeling more feminine than ever next to the powerful rumble of the huge machine between his legs and his needy gaze.
My mouth parts, drawing in a swift breath as I’m close enough now to notice the blood splatter that’s covering his jeans and arms. Suddenly my mind’s plagued with memories of the first time I met him. The image of Viking gripping the man by the throat, and then staring at my exposed chest is almost too much to think of. He may have saved me, but I could read it in his intense glare that he wanted to take me just as badly as my captor had.
“Get on.” He breaks the silence, and I swallow.
“I don’t ride.”
Viking’s nostrils flare as he revs the engine louder. “Didn’t ask. Now climb on.”
The liquor in my system does the trick, providing me with enough courage to place my palm on his solid bicep. Holding on securely, I swing my leg over the back. I’ve seen my dad and brother mount their bikes countless times, so I have a general idea. There’s not much of a seat for me, just a small piece of padding wrapped tightly in black leather.
His other hand reaches back, landing on my exposed thigh, warming it instantly with his touch. Gripping my leg firmly, he slides my body forward until my breasts are molded against his back, and then he wraps my arms securely around his muscular torso.
Viking’s so solid; holding him to my body like this makes me feel the safest I’ve ever been. I know I’m with a man who’s able and willing to protect me; he’s in control, and he’s already made me his. He’s also everything that I’ve never wanted but is turning out to be everything that I’ve always needed. I can feel myself healing. In just a short time, he’s helping my anger fade away, replacing it with his heat.
Viking’s movements are so quick and efficient it takes me by surprise, and the next thing I know, we’re entering the highway with me holding on for dear life.
Too scared to look around at first, I take in the broad stretch of the endless dark sky above us. The stars twinkle proudly as he takes his time, steadily increasing our speed and making the ride pleasant. I’ve never ridden a bike before and with Viking being a seasoned rider; I’m guessing he can tell. Most people would never believe me if I was to admit I’d never been on a bike before, being the daughter of an MC President.
After about ten minutes of the quiet highway, my muscles and grip on him start to relax as I grow more comfortable being behind him. Laying my temple against him, I close my eyes and just breathe, taking in the peacefulness of the whole experience. Once we started going faster, the stuffy Texas air swiftly morphed into what I’d imagine a thousand butterflies kissing my skin would be like.
Time passes all too soon it seems, and I feel him start to slow down. Parting my lids, my senses become overwhelmed. The leather on his cut hits my nostrils, along with an undertone of exhaust, the humming vibrations growing stronger each time he downshifts sending delicious pulses to my core.
My pussy grows wetter with each passing mile, a sinful torment as I do my best not to squirm and chase my pleasure. The last thing I want is to cause a wreck when he’s showing me this other side to him. He’d probably never forgive me for ruining his motorcycle and this beautiful night. Judging by the blood decorating his clothes, it wasn’t so pleasant for someone else.
At a bump in the road, Viking’s bike shifts, the movement causing a powerful enough tremor to hit my clit. He must hear my whimper escape because he slows down, pulling off at the first abandoned dirt road he finds.
The bike comes to a complete stop and my heart pounds so erratically he has to be able to feel it against his back. My breath comes in silent pants; I’m so damn turned on after the sweet torture my pussy was just put through.
“Get off,” He barks, causing me to jump.
“Ex-excuse me?”
“You heard me; get off the fucking bike, Cinderella.”
At his words, I suddenly feel like there’s a frog in my throat. I don’t know whether to laugh at his nerve for ditching me way the fuck out here or cry. I’ll most likely scream and throw what I can at him but then I’ll get so angry that I’ll end up crying. Who can blame me, though, we’re out in bum fuck Egypt, surrounded by fields. It’d be pitch black if it weren’t for the million stars and nearly full moon. With my luck, I’ll be hoofing it home and get so nervous; I’ll have a full-on anxiety attack and pass out on the side of the road.