Chapter 8
Molly
We rode to his apartment and for the first time, I wasn’t worried about what the bike was doing. My mind was focused on holding this man that I couldn’t figure out. Something was happening between us and it was as scary as it was exciting. I really liked this guy. He got me. I didn’t have to hide my past addictions. I didn’t have to hide who I really was – my fears, my work, my addiction, even my scars. Everything was perfect, except for one thing: my past. I needed to tell him about that one thing. I couldn’t imagine he would find out without me saying anything, but keeping secrets was never good in a relationship. He was a biker, and not just any biker: he was a Bandit. On paper, there was no one worse for me, but in my heart, he felt so right.
He parked the bike and helped me off. He seemed a little nervous as we walked up the stairs.
“Excuse any mess you see.”
“Okay.”
“No, seriously. I can’t remember if I cleaned up or not and I never bring anyone back here.”
“So… I’m the first woman you’ve ever brought here?” I asked, feeling proud.
“Yeah,” he said, looking shy.
With the door unlocked, he pulled me inside and held me close. “Home sweet home,” he whispered, and his voice tickled my ear.
“I like your home.”
“Want to see my favorite part of it?”
“Would that be your bed?” I asked, tingling from his hot voice on my skin.
He chuckled darkly and full of unspoken pleasures that he planned to yield on me. “What do you think?”
He pushed forward, making me walk towards where I presumed his bedroom was. He smacked my behind and pushed me until I was bent over the bed.
“Are you going to frisk me?”
“I’m going to do something,” he growled, grabbing the side of my jeans and dragging them down my legs. He took my panties with the pants and kissed the center of both my cheeks. His mouth trailed down the backs of my legs, kissing, licking and nibbling my skin. I could feel him hovering over my sex, tempting me. My pants held my legs hostage, preventing me from opening them wider. He grabbed my ankles and massaged, slowly running his hands up my calves, my thighs, my hips, my back, and to my shoulders before kissing me and sliding back down.
I was panting so loud.
“Please, Ethan.”
“Please what?” he said as his hand slowly petted my mound. He thrust one finger in, causing me to whimper, and then two fingers into my aching center. My hips bucked in rhythm with his hand.
“I need,” I said, groaning and losing my words as he stuck his face into my ass.
“This?” he said, stuffing his tongue into my slit.
My back arched and I scrunched the sheets in my hands automatically, reveling in the sweet relief. “Yes!” I gasped as he gave my nipple a hard tweak between his thumb and forefinger. He chuckled at my response.
His tongue was relentless, tonguing both entrances while he ran both hands up my body. I could hear myself crying with lust and pushing back against him, wanting him to be even deeper.
“Please. Please. Please,” I chanted like a prayer.
“Climb on the bed,” he ordered, stepping on my pants so they came off, successfully forcing my tennis shoes and socks off too.
I could hear his belt buckle jingling and, trusting he was undressing, I yanked my t-shirt off.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said. It was something about how he said it that made me look back.
“You like what you see?”
His eyes held me captive and I knew that whatever he was going to say was going to touch me.
“I love it.”
I didn’t know what to say, and while I was sitting there on all fours, naked and ready for him, he wasn’t waiting for me to respond. “Turn around and get ready for me.”
I turned back around and arched my back, readying my body for his onslaught. My legs spread, showing him his prize, and I couldn’t help rotating and swinging my hips. The bed dipped as he crawled behind me, and in a quick gesture I grabbed all my hair and pulled it over my left shoulder. I could feel him at my entrance, dragging his thick head through my wetness. I looked back to see him watching the connection of our bodies. The way my soft folds engulfed him. He was shaking, just barely keeping himself from losing it. My slickness pulled him in without any resistance.
“Take me,” I whispered, turning around to support myself against the headboard.
I felt him freeze behind me. I looked back, thinking he was waiting to make plunging into me even sweeter, but the face I saw was not a man in lust. The man I saw looked both shocked and hurt.
“Ethan? Baby, what’s wrong?”
He pulled back, climbed out of bed to stand. His rigid cock standing and begging for attention, but his face was the complete opposite. “What the fuck is that behind your ear?” he asked, his tone full of accusation and guilt.
“What’s what?” I said, standing to look into the mirror on his dresser drawer.
I stood to the side, pulled my ear back and looked out of my peripheral view to see what was causing him to be so upset. A tattoo. Something I’d gotten so long ago I’d forgotten it was on my body. Wearing my hair long to hide it had become a life habit. It was small and basic. A black outline of a skull right behind my ear. It was a gesture of loyalty. A group of us got tattoos at one time, one drunken night in an effort to prove we were down for the cause and ready to be active in the MC. I was the royal family and my membership was guaranteed, but I wanted to prove I wasn’t getting special treatment. I didn’t have to get any tattoos. The skulls were in my blood, but at fifteen, I wanted to prove I was just like my friends and went with them to get it done.
“Did you hear me, Molly? I asked you a fucking question.”
He stood there naked, and in every way vulnerable, staring at me and begging for an answer. I wanted to freeze the frame. In fact, if I could have, I would have reversed and frozen time to an hour before. The next few moments were imminent doom and I wished for just a moment that I could avoid it. Somehow reverse or fast forward. I didn’t want to say a thing. I didn’t want to see the change in his eyes, but I could see that he had already changed. He was no longer looking at me like he had when we were just a couple looking down at the city lights
“Say something!”
“It’s a tattoo.”
His eyes squinted together as if trying to figure out if I was joking or not. Obviously it was a tattoo, but he wanted to hear me say it. He wanted me to confirm it was as damning and incriminating as he thought it was.
“Of what?” he said, his words so harsh I flinched.
“A skull.” My words came out as barely a whisper.
“Is this a game to you? Is that all this is to you?” His voice was so loud and strong. It was so convicting. He rendered me guilty with his tone.
“No.” I had to say something but nothing was coming.
“Then what the fuck is that behind your ear?”
“I—”
“You’re a Skull! You’ve known this entire time who I was! You had to have known. I was wearing my cut in the club! Did Casper put you up to this?”
“No. I—”
“What was the point of this? Were you just waiting to shank me in my sleep? Were you trying to infiltrate my club?”
“No! It’s just—”
“Don’t say another word. Don’t say another fucking word. You’ve probably been lying this entire time.”
He paced around the room, snatching his clothing up from the floor and yanking them on.
“Ethan, please.”
“You’re just a liar. This is BULLSHIT Molly. Has anything real come out of your mouth?”
I pulled on my clothes in a rush, not bothering to see if they were inside out or the right direction.
“Oh, my god. You almost fucking had me. I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been.” He picked his vest up from where he left it hanging on the back of his chair, the emblem weighing heavily in his hands. Looking at it, I could feel my tattoo burning like a scarlet.
“You had me. You almost fucking had me,” he said, talking more to himself than me. “I can’t believe I almost fell for it,” he said shaking his head. “Get out.”
I didn’t want to push him or try to get him to hear me out. I could see he couldn’t take anything more. Fully dressed, I walked to the door and because I’m a glutton for punishment, I turned back to get one last look at him.
He was beautiful. Jeans holding tightly to his behind. His bare chest. Body tight. Muscles flinching, like he was stopping himself from moving. Thick veins bulged from his neck. Jaw clenched.
Rage emanated from him. I could practically see it coming off him in waves. He wasn’t looking at me and I stood at the door, wavering and waiting for something.
He looked up and I saw in his eyes. Those cobalt-blue eyes were stormy and sad and I knew that was what I was waiting for, to see the inevitable destruction I’d caused, and I knew it was time to go.
“I almost fell for you,” I heard him whisper just before I pulled the door shut. His voice sounded more pained than anything.