"Now you're really trying to push my buttons."
"I might be," she admitted.
"Bad move."
"Why's that?"
"Because now I have to take you in the back and show you why you're wrong."
She paused, then looked down. "That doesn't seem like a good idea," she said quietly. I noticed her hands were shaking slightly and her skin was flushed. She wanted me, I could tell, but she was struggling to contain the desire. The way I saw it, it was my job to convince her to let it roam free.
Before she could react, I swung myself over the bar in an easy leap and wrapped my arm around her waist. "C'mon, babe," I whispered in her ear. My beard brushed against her neck and my lips were soft against her skin. "Let's go for a ride."
"I can't," she objected. "I've got a bar to run!"
I looked over at the boys around the table. They were used to my antics, so they were hardly paying attention. I gave a sharp whistle and they all looked up. "Yo, Steezy!" I called. "Come take over!"
He hustled over quickly and paused at the corner of the bar as I led the bartender out through the swinging, waist-high door. She was compliant in my hands, letting me guide her wherever I wanted to take us, almost like she was in a trance. "We're gonna take a little field trip," I told him with a wink. "Do me a favor and tend bar until … Wait, what's your name?"
"Carla," she said in a daze.
"Until Carla and I get back," I finished.
He nodded and stepped behind the bar without another word. Carla gazed at him and then looked up at me wonderingly. "Don't worry, hon," I said. "He's smart. Now, which way to the back room?"
She shook her head and seemed to regain her wits. Giving me a seductive glance over her shoulder, she wound her fingers between mine and walked towards a long hallway that stretched into the guts of the building. We reached the end of the hall, where a door separated the Employees Only area from the rest of the bar. I opened the door and gestured for her to walk through first.
"Such a gentleman," she remarked.
I winked and smacked her ass as she walked by. "In my world, ladies always come first."
Chapter 2
Corinne
"Aw, shit." I dropped the mascara pen and groped blindly around the counter for a tissue. My right eye was tearing up where I'd accidentally stabbed myself while putting on make-up. I was blinking hard, trying to quell the pain, while the stinging spread into what felt like the middle of my brain.
After almost two decades of living, I thought I'd be better at this stuff by now. But then again, the girly stuff had never come super naturally to me. I guess that's what happened when a girl grew up surrounded by burly biker men. And given that my daddy was the president of the Inked Angels MC, bikers were the only type of man I knew.
My earliest memories were the smell of leather and engine grease. It was a nice smell in its own way, but it wasn't exactly what I'd call a little girl's fantasy. It definitely fell far short of the sugar plums and spices that all my classmates' parents seemed to think was appropriate for their daughters. Even when I was in elementary school, I had vivid recollections of the nasty glares that my father and I got when he dropped me off on his bike in front of the schoolyard. That loud engine rumbling was unlike anything those WASPy moms had ever seen in their lives. I liked it, though. There was something about being on the back of a bike that felt right to me.
But even as other girls were told to stay away from "the biker's daughter," my daddy seemed determined not to let me run in the kind of circles where he did business. "Keep far away from men on motorcycles," he'd warned me more than once. "They're no good."
"But Daddy, you ride a motorcycle," I protested.
"Yeah, well, I'm a bastard, but I'm your bastard, and I'm the only one you can trust. Just mark my words: a biker won't do anything but break your heart. I want you to have a better life than that. Find a nice, smart boy, one who will bring you flowers and treat you like a lady."
For eighteen years, I'd tried to follow his advice, but it just didn't seem to be working for me. The boys who fit his suggested description were universally the most vanilla, mind-numbing group of people on the planet. I'd been on date after date with every nice boy in town, but they all left me feeling bored and unsatisfied. Where was the heat? Where was the passion? Wasn't that what boys were supposed to be all about? Wasn't that what sex was for?
I don't know where I'd gotten ideas like that from, but they were stuck in my head regardless. No matter how hard I tried to be happy with the latest in an endless succession of bland, blond, blue-eyed boys, I found myself breaking things off just as soon as they'd gotten started. Every now and then, I felt bored enough to give sex another shot, but I inevitably left frustrated with my inability to feel the tiniest little bit of sensation.
I barely remembered losing my virginity. It had happened with a boy from high school in the summer after we graduated, but I didn't even feel anything while we did it. To be completely honest, I'd almost fallen asleep halfway through. He sure seemed to be into it. I didn't understand. Why couldn't I get swept away?
I dabbed at my face with the tissue as the tears streaming from my poor, abused eye started to slow down. I focused on my reflection in the mirror in front of me.
I didn't think it was because I was ugly. In fact, I supposed I was even pretty, in a conventional sort of way. The boys in town generally seemed to think so, at least. I had long, dark brown hair that fell in a wavy curtain around my shoulders. My skin was tan and unblemished and my lips had a nice pink fullness to them. Years of cross-country running had kept my body skinny and taut.
But I didn't feel beautiful. Not the way that all those Disney princesses seemed to feel beautiful, spinning around in their big, colorful dresses like they were queens of the world. I didn't want to be like them, for sure - that kind of life just wasn't for me - but I desperately wanted to know what it felt like to be so confident and carefree. And the way those princes looked at them … That's what every girl wanted, right? We wanted to feel wanted. Simple as that. So why on earth was it so freaking elusive?
Picking up the mascara, I finished daubing my eyelashes. I screwed the cap back on and leaned forward to admire my handiwork. "Not bad, Corinne," I observed, "not bad at all." For a girl who hardly ever bothered to get dressed up, I'd done a halfway decent job, the accidental self-stabbing notwithstanding.
I rose to my feet and padded over to where my outfit lay on the bed. I shivered and rubbed my arms. For some reason, the A/C in the house was cranked up to full blast and it was icy cold in the room. It didn't help that I was clad in only lace panties. I glanced down quickly at the sheer underwear I was wearing, feeling a glimmer of pride that I immediately suppressed. I pretty much never wore underwear like this, but it felt like the kind of night to bust out the special clothing.
I surveyed the clothes I'd laid out and felt a big, dry gulp ride down my throat. I steeled myself and dressed quickly, before second thoughts convinced me to go with a more conservative option. When the last article was on, I turned to check out my reflection in the full-length mirror propped up against one wall of my bedroom.
It was a risqué outfit to say the least. The midnight leather jeans hugged my curves so tightly that I thought I might bust out of them. The black crop top I wore above it did the absolute minimum in keeping my breasts hidden from the view of the general public I was about to wade into. It zippered up the front, silver teeth gleaming in the light from overhead. My stomach below the garment's edge was bronzed and flat.
It sure as hell wasn't my usual style, which was more along the lines of patched and faded blue levis with a thin white t-shirt and boots, but in spite of my insecurities, even I had to admit: I looked damn good.
"Oo, girl, you are looking fine as hell!" cooed a familiar voice as the door to my room burst open. Lily and Kendall flew inside and began pawing at me, making silly jokes as they slapped playfully at my leather-encased ass.
"All the boys at the club are gonna be lovin' you tonight!" Kendall shrieked, giggling.
I felt a familiar sensation of doubt take over me. Nightclubs were hardly a place where I felt comfortable. It seemed like they brought out the worst in men, turning them all into drunk, leering creepers desperate to get their hands on a piece of female, any female. I definitely wasn't a prude, but I wasn't an object to be pawed at, either.
Our plans for the evening revolved around a club called the Enigma. It was new and one of the hottest spots in town. I'd passed by there a couple weekends back and seen a long line of beautiful people stretching out the front door: impossibly tall girls with long legs and short dresses, men dressed in dazzling suits with expensive watches flashing on their wrists. Normally, it would have been impossible for us to get in, but Lily was friends with one of the guys who worked at the door, and she'd convinced him to let us slip ahead of the line tonight. But he'd also made her promise that she would make sure all her friends were dressed to the nines. Thus my outfit, the make-up, the whole shebang. I was venturing wildly out of my comfort zone.