Born to Ride_A Clubhouse Collection

chapter 7

Three weeks later

“Two Whiskey’s. Neat,” I shout across the bar to Mitch.

He slides the drinks across to me and I take them back to the customers who ordered them.

Twenty Two Oh Eight bar is packed tonight. There are people crammed in everywhere and it’s crossed my mind more than once tonight that it might be a fire or health code violation to have this many people packed in the bar, but it doesn’t seem to be worrying Mitch or Carl (the other bartender) or Candy or Slash (the security guard). So, I try not to let it bother me.

Slash is a beef of a man. Tall, black and built like a mountain. He’s also got a jagged scar running across his cheek. I’m not sure if his nickname is born of the scar on his face or his extracurricular activities, but something tells me it’s probably a bit of both. Carl looks much the same as him, minus the scar, on account of them being brothers.

I do my rounds, squeezing through the throng of people who are all out to listen to Alabama’s hot new rock band, Fury. I stack a bunch of empties in the crook of my arm and start walking back to the bar.

“Hey, darlin’.” I feel his hand touch my leg before he slurs the words at me.

“Get your hand off me,” I snarl back at him. My lip curls as I take in his greasy hair and wrinkled face. He gives me a smile and I notice the tobacco stains on his teeth. I fight the urge to gag. Then, I fight the urge to knee him in the crown jewels when his hand travels up the back of my thigh to squeeze my ass.


“I said; get your f*cking hands off me.” I try to jerk away, but his grip is surprisingly strong for a dirty old man.

“C’mon, darlin’. I’m just havin’ some fun,” he grins again.

Just as I’m about to put my load of glasses down, I hear a voice growl from behind me.

“The lady asked you to get your hands off her.”

I freeze and a shiver runs over me. The good kind of shiver.

“Ah, c’mon man. I was just havin’ some fun. She loves it. I can tell,” Old Touchy-Feely whines.

“You best be keepin’ your hands to yourself, old man, or you might find you wake up one day with no hands.”

I swallow. Hard. And judging by the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, so does Old Touchy-Feely.

“You okay, sugar?” His lips rest just below my ear lobe, on my neck, and they move against my skin as he speaks.

“I’m fine,” I whisper through a whole body shudder. A shudder I’m sure he felt because he’s pressed close enough to me.

“Good,” he says. Then his teeth find my lobe and he bites down gently, dragging my flesh through his teeth before releasing me. I resist the urge to either orgasm or spontaneously combust, and instead, I get back to work.

I don’t see him again for the rest of night, but I feel someone watching me the entire time. It’s the same feeling I’ve felt every now and then over the last three weeks. It’s not the usual creepy feeling you get when you feel someone’s eyes on you, it’s a safe feeling.

Hours later, my feet are aching and I can hear my bed calling my name. The band is packing up the last of their instruments and most everybody has gone home for the night. I cash out and then make a quick stop to the bathroom before I leave.

I do my business, wash my hands and then as I open the wooden bathroom door, it pushes back against my hand. I feel my heart thud hard in my chest and my hand automatically reaches up to steady its beat. “Oh, Lord. You scared the hell out of me.”

He looks me up and down, slowly, before his eyes come to rest on mine. His are blazing. He looks like he wants to eat me alive. My knees tremble at the thought and at the same time my stomach clenches.

He removes the toothpick from between his teeth, takes a step forward so the door closes behind him and then he drawls, “Didn’t think I’d just walk away, did you, sugar?”

“Uh...I don’t know,” I squeak. He’s so close, yet so far away. My nostrils are full of his scent – it’s a heady mixture of leather, oil and spice. My nipples tingle and I feel my eyelids lower as my breathing shallows.

How ridiculous am I that a man whose name I don’t even know, can have such an effect on my body?

“C’mere.” His voice is like a whisper, but not. It’s husky and thick, but quiet. A shiver runs through my body before I launch myself at him. His mouth slants down and takes possession of my own, and I am lost to him. Lost in him.

He presses me back against the wall and I feel every hard inch of him caging me in. He deftly removed my jeans and then firm hands grab my ass and lift up. I wrap my legs around his waist and I feel him between us, releasing his cock. I kiss his jaw and lick a trail along his neck while he puts the condom on. Then he thrusts inside.

My back arches and my nerves quiver as he torturously rubs his piercing backward and forward inside me. Steadily, he begins to build until he’s slamming into me. I bite down on his shoulder to muffle the sound of the scream that is begging to be released from my throat.

He reaches down and captures one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking deep.

“Oh, god. F*ck me harder,” I all but scream. Sweat is trickling down my back and I feel so hot. “Oh, god, it feels so good,” I moan as he fills me.

“Sweetest f*ckin’ p-ssy I’ve ever had. F*ckin’ beautiful. So f*ckin’ sweet. You like my cock, sugar? You gonna take all of my cock?”

I whimper and feel myself get even wetter at his grunted words. “Yes,” I cry – in answer to his question, or just because it feels good, I’m not sure.

“Yeah, that’s my good girl. Now tighten up that sweet little cunt of yours and come all over my cock,” he breathes in my ear. The he clamps his teeth down on my lobe at the same time as his fingers find my nipple and he grinds his pelvis against me.

“Holy shiiiit,” I scream. My legs tense around him, gluing him to me as I jerk in his arms as my orgasm rips throughout my entire body.

He rams into me once more, before shoving his face into my neck and shuddering through his own release.

“F*ckin’ hell, sugar,” he pants, breathlessly. “So good,” he mumbles.

I lay my head back against the cool wall and try to regain my breath.

A few seconds later, the air in the room changes and I resist a whimper when he pulls out of me. He lowers me to the ground and I quickly pull my jeans back up and re-button my shirt without looking at him. I hear his own zipper go up and he walks over to the trash can to dispose of the condom.

I know his eyes are on me, waiting for me to look at him, but I can’t, so I kick at the floor with the toe of my boot.

“That should never have happened. That shit won’t happen again.” he states. My eyes snap to his and I look at him, shocked.

Then I get mad. Really mad.

“You,” I shout, pointing my finger at him for emphasis, “followed me in here. I,” I point to myself, “did not ask you to. I cannot believe the kind of a*shole you are. You’ve been inside me twice and never even had the f*cking courtesy to tell me your name, or ask me mine. F*ck you.”

Then, I do what I do best. I run. Out the bathroom door and straight to my car. When I get to Jenn’s, I run straight into the shower and scrub myself raw in water as hot as I can stand. I scrub away the sickening slut aura that clings to my body and I scrub away his lingering scent.

When I finally get under the covers, I try my hardest to fall asleep, but I can’t stop thinking about him. Eventually sleep finds me, but it isn’t until I see the sun peeking through the curtains, signaling dawn.