“Didn’t that mother of yours teach you not to talk to strangers?” I hissed, as I strapped my helmet onto her head. “Get on,” I ordered, patting the seat.
She grabbed onto my arm for leverage and straddled my bike. I shook my head as my hand automatically shot down to my pants to re-arrange my dick. How the fuck was I going to get on my bike like this? I’d fucking break my cock.
“Problem?” She asked innocently.
“You’re a tease,” I said, leaning close to her. “Gonna make you beg for it now,” I promised, grunting as I maneuvered myself in front of her. Her arms wrapped around me, holding on tight as she leaned her chin on my shoulder.
“You just want to see me on my knees,” she whispered against my ear.
“Lots of ways I want to see you, Kitten,” I said, taking off quickly, hoping the ride sobered her up. Not completely though. Something tells me tipsy Lauren is a lot more fun than sober Lauren, and the odds of me getting laid are slimmer without the drunken fog.
I was such an asshole.
Don’t be an asshole, a voice inside of me taunted.
Look at that, I didn’t think I had a conscience.
That was new.
I never questioned myself when I was with a woman. I took what I wanted, respectfully, and let my partner take what they needed from me. It was obvious what she wanted, and I argued with myself that if it wasn’t me it would be Tommy or Tony, whatever his name was, giving it to her. Still, something inside of me nagged to do the right thing, to think before I did something reckless.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
I chalked it up to Jack getting in my head with all his shit about heart and not being reckless. Then there was this little thorn in my side called Bianci. He’d fucking kill me, send me off to sleep with the fishes, if he found out I took advantage of his sister.
So, I decided I’d take her back to my room at the compound and we wouldn’t go all the way. Christ, I sounded like a pussy. I was back to being a fifteen-year-old kid who settled for a friendly game of “just the tip.”
I was fucked.
And not literally.
I could be the good guy, the one who did the right thing. I would. I’d be that guy tonight.
Tomorrow?
I’d fuck anything that walked and make no apologies about it.
Yep, that was my plan.
I turned off my bike and glanced over my shoulder.
“Where are we?” Lauren hiccupped.
“The clubhouse,” I said, taking her hands and pulling her onto her feet. She freed her hands from mine and walked ahead of me, sashaying her hips and wiggling that ass with every step. God damn!
“Taking me home to meet your motorcycle buddies? Isn’t that moving fast?” She laughed, tripping over her own feet and nearly falling flat on her face.
“Easy,” I ground out, wrapping my arm around her waist. “What the hell did you drink?”
She lifted her finger in the air to begin listing her drinks but frowned and dropped her hand.
“Everything,” she admitted, turning to face me. “You have alcohol in the playhouse?”
“Clubhouse,” I said unable to hold back the chuckle. “And…I think you’ve had enough,” I added, ushering her into the clubhouse. Thankfully, the common room was empty except for Blackie who was still sitting in the same spot at the bar.
“Oh, look! You do have alcohol,” she said, motioning to the bar. Blackie lifted his head, his bloodshot eyes stared at Lauren for a minute before turning back to me.
“You’re out of your fucking mind,” Blackie stated.
“It’s not like that,” I said, waving him off. “Look at her, she needed a ride.”
“I am looking at her,” he replied, emptying the rest of the bottle of patron into his glass. “You better know what the fuck you’re doing. This club don’t need any bullshit with Bianci,” he added, before throwing back the tequila.
“Don’t worry about it,” I insisted.
“Yeah, don’t worry about it!” Lauren agreed, pointing a finger at Blackie. “But don’t tell my brother I was here or you’ll have bullshit with this Bianci,” she warned, wagging her finger in the air.
Blackie’s eyebrows shot up to his hair line as he stared at my ferocious little kitten, then turned back to me.
“Oh you’re so fucked,” he said smiling. My misery would be the one thing that makes the beast smile.
“Thanks, bro, love you too,” I said, rolling my eyes, taking Lauren’s hand and dragging her toward the stairs.
“Riggs! I can’t run in these shoes,” she complained.
I blew out an exasperated breath turned around and lifted her over my shoulder.
“Better?” I asked, as she yelped and I climbed the stairs.
“You have a perfect ass,” she commented, slapping my ass.
I peered at hers out of the corner of my eye.
“Yours isn’t so bad either, Kitten,” I said, fighting back the temptation to sink my teeth into her cheek. I kicked open the door to my room and dropped her onto my bed, watching as she bounced against the mattress.
Oh, man.
She tried to sit up, throwing her black hair over her shoulder as she peered up at me with the “come fuck me” eyes.