It’s dark when I wake up—quiet. Too quiet. I’m still in my shirt, but my boots and jeans lay in a pile beside the bed. I smile. Warmth spreads through my belly as I stretch. Always taking care of me…even when I’m sleeping.
I know Bryce is near. I can feel his presence even when I can’t see him. Besides, he wouldn’t leave me alone without telling me. After a hot bath, I dry my hair, and slip on my robe. It’s then that I start missing him, and worrying just a little.
It all fades—worry, longing and the need for distance when I see him leaning against the counter in the kitchen. He’s wearing leather from head to toe. His cut pulled over a black hoodie, his chaps covering his denim legs. Chains hang down his sides and stretch across his stomach. A thin black riding cap sits snug and low on his head.
Son of a bitch, he’s sexy.
“Feel better?” he asks, smirking at the way I gape at him.
I lick my lips. “Much.” The word is released on a breath. His smirk widens to a grin.
“I put some clothes on the bed for you. Get dressed. We’re going out.”
“Out? Out where?”
He winks at me. “I believe I owe you a ride.”
Once again, I find a pile of my own clothes on the bed. Fashionably sexy, but warm. Who the hell is choosing these outfits? I make a mental note to ask as I layer myself in leggings and a snug-fitting turtleneck before pulling on my jeans and a thick sweater. All black—just like Bryce.
The weather in south Mississippi makes no sense at all. One day you’re in flip flops, the next a parka. Tonight it’s cold, even though today it was warm and sunny. Craziest shit ever.
I zip my boots up my legs, and grab my leather jacket before going to meet him back in the kitchen. He rakes his eyes up and down my body before finally speaking. “You look good.” Not beautiful. Not sexy. Just good. But the thickness in his voice and darkness in his eyes says he likes the way I look very, very much.
“These are for you.” He tosses me a pair of leather gloves. They’re new, stylish and even have the little pads on the index fingers so you can operate your phone while wearing them.
“A gift?” I tease, fanning myself with them. “How thoughtful of you Mr.…” I frown. “What’s your last name?”
“Parker. And don’t ever call me that.” His tone is playful, but I know he’s serious.
Bryce Parker… I like it.
“Mine’s Scott, by the way.”
“I know.” Of course he does.
“So,” he says, pushing away from the counter. “You ready?” The wickedness is back, and nervous thrill ripples through me.
“Always.”
“I thought you said this was going to be fun!” I yell, leaning up so my mouth is next to the vent on his helmet. Once again, we’re slowly making our way down the curvy back road toward the highway. But just as I say the words, we near the intersection and I’m blinded with the flood of lights coming from several bikes parked in the median.
Bryce had removed the sissy bar, forcing me to cling tight to him or fall off. My grip had been loose the entire ride, but it tightens when he wracks the pipes—notifying his brothers of our arrival. Pulling back on the throttle, he falls in line with the pack.
Two by two, we ride hard and fast down the highway. Bryce and I are on the outside next to Scratch as we barrel through the night riding so close, I can reach out and touch the handlebars next to me. I’m finally getting that ride I was promised. It’s fucking exhilarating. The wind in my hair, shallow breathing, heavy beating heart, rush of adrenaline and feel of Bryce between my thighs is the most thrilling thing I’ve ever experienced.
The fun part is when we break from the highway and hit the busy streets of downtown. Traffic is heavier here, but we flow at a steady pace—sometimes breaking away from the pack to split cars or pass in the turning lane. Even through my leather jacket and layers of clothing, I can feel the bite of the cold air. It just makes it that more intense.
By the time we arrive at the small building with a wooden sign labeled “Last Call,” I’m shaking. And I have no idea if it’s from the cold or the adventure of it all. But whatever the reason, it takes me a moment and a little help from Bryce to climb off the bike. My shaky fingers struggle with the strap on my helmet, but he makes quick work of it before removing his own—replacing it with a plain black cap he wears backwards on his head. So sexy.
“What’d you think?” he asks, smirking down at me.
“I t-think I w-want to go again,” I stammer—following up my admission with a laugh.
Taking my hand, he leads me inside. I’m surprised to find Dallas, Red and Maddie already seated at a table. Although they’re not at all surprised to see me. I stay behind Bryce as he makes his way toward the bar—stopping several times to shake hands with some men, hug others and even a few women.
“Two buttery nipples and two double Jack’s.” He orders our drinks, then slides down the bar a little and tips his chin to the space beside him. I’m stepping forward, but am forced to stop when a brunette sidles up next to him.
Jealousy crashes through me. I hate this woman—this…Lady Riders Hattiesburg, MS…whatever in the hell that means.
Bryce turns sideways, so that he’s leaning against the bar—his body facing her. But he looks at me—his eye closing on a wink while a smile tugs at his lips. The woman notices, and spins slowly around.
She smiles as she leans back on her elbows, and drags her eyes lazily down my body. Through the dim lighting and smoky haze of the room, I notice her face is quite pretty—prettier than mine.
“Well, hello, Pocahontas.” Remember when I thought that was a compliment? Yeah… I’m not so sure about that now.
But I smile anyway. “It’s Delilah.”
She holds her hand out. “Lady Riders Bic, Hattiesburg. Nice to meet you, Delilah.” She’s so pretty…and nice…and something else I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Bic is the president of our one and only female support club,” Bryce says, motioning to the bartender to add another round to our order. Bic nods in agreement, but continues to smile at me.
Then it hits me. She’s a lesbian. A very sexy lesbian, that seems quite interested in having me for dinner. I’m game if her and Bryce are down for a threesome. But something tells me she’s not into men—at all. Bummer.
Bryce passes me a shot, then hands one to her. He wordlessly offers it up, and we drink. The thick, sweet liquid warms me instantly. I lick my lips—partly from the deliciousness, but mostly because I know Bic is watching. Her eyes widen when they drop to my tongue. It’s good to know I still got it.
She sets down her empty glass and straightens to full height. She’s just as tall as me, but her stance holds a little more authority than mine. Good thing I’ve gotten used to the submissive role, or else I might be intimidated.
She leans toward me, and I inhale the citrus scent of her hair as she presses her lips dangerously close to my ear. “See you around, Delilah,” she whispers, tucking something inside my hand before walking away. I shove the piece of paper I’m sure contains her number in my back pocket and meet Bryce’s eyes.
He’s smiling back at me, amusement evident in his stare as he shakes his head. “What?” I ask on a shrug.
“Nothing.” He holds his hands up in defense, passing me my drink. The crowd gathers around us. I give my attention to the men, hugging them all—laughing and joking with them. They act as if I haven’t been gone for three days, and I wonder if any of them are aware of where I’ve been.
I start to ask Bryce, but he speaks first. “Go hang with the women. I’ll catch up with you later.” He turns—joining his brothers as they disappear out the back door. I really don’t want to hang with the ol’ ladies. Even before I look, I know their eyes are on me.
I take a sip of my drink, thankful for the liquid encouragement. Spinning on my heel, I find exactly what I’d expected. All of them looking at me with curious stares. I smile as I stride to the table in the center of the room they’re all seated around.
“Okay,” Red starts, before I can take a seat. “Is it weird that I missed you? Because I have.”
“Did you miss me, or the pot?” I quip, crossing my legs under the table and leaning back in my chair.
She shakes her head. “No, we got the pot. We broke in your room and found it. Nice lingerie collection, by the way.”
I roll my eyes. I should’ve known they’d be snooping while I was away. Come to think of it, the shirt Red’s wearing looks familiar…
“So? Did y’all finish?” My brows draw in confusion at Dallas’ question. She dismisses the look with a wave of her hand. “Luke said you went to Lake Charles to pack up Bryce’s house. I always wondered what he lived in. Wait.” She straightens in her seat. “I bet it was like a medieval cave, wasn’t it?”
“Ooh!” I turn to Red. “I bet he has a Rottweiler. Or a Doberman. A junkyard dog that he feeds the souls of small children to.”
I laugh--mostly in relief at their ignorance, but also at their absurd perspective of who Bryce really is. “Actually, he lives in an older house that is surprisingly charming and very remote.” I inwardly sigh at the memory of all that he’d done to me in that house. How he’d fucked me…spanked me…held me…how I fell in love with him.