Asher
When she licked her friend’s ear, I nearly lost it. This woman was a she-devil, and I knew it, tempting me with everything she had. And I was pretty okay with that. She laughed and drank and flirted with just about everyone in the room it seemed, but kept a healthy distance from me.
I might have thought she wasn’t interested at all, that I’d misread the heated lust in her gaze when she first walked in, except that despite her prowling through the club, her eyes hadn’t left me. I’d watched as she slid them over my body, lingering on the package between my legs that was straining against the leather material of my pants. And when that goddamned tongue popped out from between her ruby red lips, I thought I might lose myself right then and there.
Oh, yes, definitely a she-devil.
Desire coursed through my veins like a drug, pumping me up, making me consider all the ways I could have her. I wondered how experienced she was. I doubted she was a virgin, but I was willing to bet she was at least a little choosy most of the time. I knew her type, had her pegged almost right away.
She looked like one of those rich kids in the mansions of Mount Cherry. The kind that got bored and tried their hand at the wrong side of the tracks. But the way she was looking at me, the way she was moving those luscious curves around like she knew what she was doing… Well, I thought she could handle what I wanted to give her.
And I wanted to give her a lot. Most of it to be buried as deep in her pussy as I could get. I’ll bet she’s tight, I thought idly, watching as she leaned towards the bartender as he handed her another drink. She laughed like he was funny and tossed her long blonde hair, making me want to wrap my hand around it and yank back on it while I took her from behind.
I had to adjust myself as my erection grew to be almost painful with arousal. She was doing wicked things to my body, and I hadn’t even gotten her clothes off yet.
Promising, if you asked me.
She sipped at her drink, shaking her full hips in time with the music that you could just barely hear over the general sounds of the bar. Those hips, those curves called to me, begging me to cling to them until there were hand-shaped bruises over them. Her eyes dared me to come to her, to touch her in ways that weren’t appropriate in public and weren’t discussed in private conversation. Her whole body seemed to buzz with need and anticipation.
And I would know.
I’d spent a long time in the Anarchy’s Horsemen, riding in and out of people’s lives. Stopping at seedy little places like this. You wouldn’t think it, but being on the road like that teaches you about people. It teaches you to read body language. And I was fluent in that language at least.
I learned when a woman arched her back like that, it was because she wanted you. I learned when she bit her lower lip like that, it was because she needed you. I learned when she held your gaze for as long as this young woman had held mine, it was because she needed a good, hard fuck. And I was damn good at that at least.
I watched her a while longer, letting my eyes devour her perky, young body. She had curves like a woman but was taut like the teenager she must have been. I reminded myself to check her ID before I did something stupid like dive into her pussy, but I told myself no one who walked around with that much confidence wasn’t legal.
I hoped.
Finally, when she’d stopped flitting around from place to place to stand at the opposite side of the room, sipping at something pink and fruity probably, I made my move. Her eyes were still on me, and I made no bones about where I was headed, who I was coming for.
I made a straight shot for her, shoving people to the side and out of my way whenever someone tried to unwittingly block my path. Several people shouted “Hey!” at me, but never anything more because, by the time they turned to look at me, they’d likely realized who I was.
Asher Sawyer, leader of the Anarchy’s Horsemen.
With a sly smile, I wondered if this perky little vixen had any idea who I was. Maybe I’ll tell her, I thought as I grew closer, stalking her like a panther. Maybe it’ll get her hot and bothered—not that it looks like she needs the encouragement.
I reached her quickly, though the straining bulge in my pants told me it had been a goddamn eternity. She was leaning against the wall now, her drink finished and set aside somewhere out of the way. Her eyes were locked on me, and her bright cherry lips were parted slightly as she stared me down.
Fluidly, I lifted up my arms and placed them on either side of her, pushing my palms flat against the wall. I leaned forward, so my body was close to hers, her form radiating heat and desire in equal waves. There was no doubt she wanted me.
“How’d a pretty young thing like you get in here?” I asked, pushing myself closer to her until we were almost touching, but not quite. She radiated heat like a sun goddess, and her body confirmed her status, at least in my mind.
She let out a soft breath that might have been a sigh or a shiver; either way, it was laced with need. It was pretty clear she wanted me, and I almost growled with pride at the thought. I let my gaze drag over her again, checking her body, trying to figure out why she seemed familiar—and how I hadn’t tried to get into her pants before if I did know her like I thought.
She’s probably too young. You saw her when she was still in high school—which she isn’t now, I thought to myself, the last part a hope more than anything else.
She pushed herself towards me slightly, her breasts only just scraping against my chest, sending a quick shiver of desire through me. It was with effort that I focused on what she was saying. “What? Don’t you think I belong?” She batted her long lashes at me.
I barked out a laugh. “With these assholes? Not a chance, baby.”
She bit her lower lip. It had the effect of making me want to pull that lip free and bite it myself, though I resisted the temptation. In time, I reminded myself. All in time.
“Are you even old enough to be in here?” I asked her.
It was her turn to laugh. She pushed out her breasts farther until they were actually pressing into me, emphasizing the size of her lovely round tits and the fact that her torn shirt was straining to cover them. “Don’t I look old enough?” she asked, her voice teasing, daring.
I swallowed hard, my eyes raking over her. She certainly had the body of a woman. But that face—so young still. Young and familiar. Like maybe I’d seen her in passing down the street. Or hanging out with Bane, I thought, suddenly feeling a little uneasy. He didn’t usually date sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds, but he was still close enough to their age that it wasn’t weird if he did.
Trying to come up with alternative theories, I wondered if I’d simply seen her in here before. I didn’t spend a lot of time at The End of The World, but I dropped by some. She didn’t look like the kind of thing to go to the tattoo parlor, but you never knew. People did crazy, rebellious things sometimes.
Like try to pick up a biker at a seedy bar, I thought mildly.
“Well, if I were just judging by your tits, I’d put you in your very early twenties, but we both know that’s not true.”
She made a pouting face and almost looked offended as she said, “Almost! I’ll be twenty in, like, seven months.”
A slow smile spread across my lips. Nineteen was young. Really young. But it was legal, and if the way she was throwing her goddess-like body around, she had already lost her flower to some asshole earlier on. Still, I leaned forward so I could whisper in her ear, “Almost twenty? And has this almost twenty-year-old had her cherry popped yet?”
She shuddered beneath me. “Oh. Um, yeah, actually. Don’t worry about that.”
And with that final admission, I was sold. My hands dropped to her hips, and I jerked her forward at the same time that I pushed into her, crashing our pelvises together as I locked my mouth onto hers. Her full, ruby red lips parted, and I thrust my tongue into her mouth, tasting and exploring her both.
She tasted sweet, like candy or sugar cubes or ripe strawberries. Her lipstick made her full lips moist as I pressed my mouth hard against them, but I didn’t think they had any flavor to them. No, I was pretty sure that sugary sweet flavor was all her.
I wonder if the rest of her tastes like that, too, I thought, considering some of the wicked things I might be able to do between her long, shapely legs.
I rubbed myself against her, letting her feel my erection through her skin-tight jeans, my hands gripping her hips hard to keep our bodies together. Her tits felt malleable but firm against my chest and I really wanted to tear off her shirt and fondle them, though I forced myself to remember we were in a bar, a public place, and while The End of The World didn’t much care about propriety or anything of the like, they weren’t going to let you just have sex out in the open.
Probably.
You never know until you try.