The Road To Ruin (Riders, #1)

By K.M. Liss

Romance, New adult fiction

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461
18 mins

Chapter One

It was Friday night in Olson, Kansas, and Riders bar was packed.
The customers were stacking up and I was struggling to keep pace, I hadn't built up speed on the job yet. I kept a smile plastered firmly on my face, and did my best to cope.
“Stop smiling at everyone like a goddam idiot and get a move on, girl, we're fuckin' busy,” Mickey said.
“I could do with some help to be honest,” I admitted.
He tutted. Mickey tutted a lot.
“Kells,” he called to across to Kelly, who was meeting and greeting at the door, and her head swiveled toward him, “need you on the bar, sweetheart.”
She gave him her usual simper of a smile and writhed her way through the crowd to the bar. I was quite sure they were more than just friends. The way they spoke and looked at each other was a dead giveaway.
Mickey was glowering at me, as if being new, slow and inexperienced was a terrible sin, but I smiled brightly at him. I felt that was the best option at that moment, because I really wanted to slap his face.
To add insult to injury he goosed my ass as he passed behind me. The guy really was a disgusting chauvinistic asshole.
I stood there angry but silent, trying not to react to his rough grope, and sadly realizing I was getting far too used to accepting it.
“Smiling makes the world go round, happy staff equals happy customers,” I pointed out, trying to hide my anger, while smiling at the cute guy opposite me, passing him his change.
“You can keep them happy after closing time, earn yourself some big tips, like the other girls.”
Not only was Mickey a lecherous bastard, he was a pimp as well. And unfortunately the long haired biker grease-ball was my boss.
I scowled at him, ignoring his filthy remark. He'd been dropping strong hints I should turn tricks, since the second I'd arrived.
Yeah... like that was gonna happen. Over my dead body.
But Mickey Green's prostitution racket aside, the pay was good. I was prepared to put up with the shit going on around me to get the cash. Besides, I was only here for ten weekends while I was on vacation from Kansas State University for the summer.
I'd just finished my second year at K-State, studying Law. This year had been such hard going. I wasn't sure if I was cut out to be a lawyer, if I was honest with myself. But I'd see how it panned out. Give it my very best shot. I wasn't a quitter.
I wanted to be successful, to have a respectable well paid career, and becoming a lawyer was an intellectual and glamorous way to earn money.
I wouldn't need to depend on a man for anything. That was so important to me after all that had happened to my mom.
Her situation had taught me a big lesson in life. She wasn't particularly academically minded and she'd not been encouraged much by my Gran, or her teachers at school. She openly admitted she hadn't tried too hard at her studies. She'd been far too interested in other things. Basically, hanging out with boys. As a result of her lack of qualifications, she'd never had a good job, relying on waitressing or bar work. That was where she met her mistakes.
Carl, my dad had been her first mistake. She'd been just eighteen when she met him, and nineteen when she gave birth to me. At twenty, a few weeks after they'd finally got their own place, he just upped and left town without a word. My sister Philipa's dad, Artie, was a complete womanizer and after two years screwing Mom around he moved on to a rich widow. Her last love David, stayed for four years before he left us high and dry, having drained the little cash we had with his drinking habit.
She'd been far too dependent on men to support her and they'd walked all over her and let her down.
She was broken hearted, broken in spirit, crushed and ruined. It upset me so much when I thought of it. At thirty eight she was still very beautiful but so lonely and mistrustful. She never went out with men anymore. She said she didn't have the emotional energy to cope with any more disappointment.
No man was gonna ruin me. I was driven by what was in my head, and definitely not by my heart. I was extremely guarded, suspicious of men and cautious about letting any guy get close. Apart from Johnny. He'd found a way in via the back door. He started out as a friend. We may have slept together, after a drunken night at campus party, but that had been a big let down. It was clear, after a few weeks, that we weren't destined to be together that way.
A sea of faces appeared before me as I rushed around serving bottles of beer, soda, wine and spirits.
It started to quieten down a little after nine, as the drinking pace slowed and the lightweight drinkers drifted off. It was still pretty full, mainly with guys, and one group of girls who were having a rowdy party in a booth.
“Go have a five minute break,” Mickey said, sending me off to the restrooms, with a squeeze of my backside.
He was such a sweet and generous boss. Not.
I nipped in and out of the restroom quickly. Having missed dinner, I was hungry, so I sneaked into the kitchen to eat the sugar covered donut I'd brought with me. We weren't allowed to eat in the bar; it was a liquid environment only. Mickey was very strict about rules.
No time-wasting. No girl chat. No phone calls. No food. No drinking alcohol. No chewing gum. No sucking mints.
No breathing maybe...?
Starving, I stuffed the donut in my mouth greedily, the sugar coating spread just about everywhere round my lips. I ran a glass of water to wash down the dough, which was stuck in my throat.
I leaned against the counter as I drank, licking my sugary lips, gazing around.
My friend Julia worked in the kitchen. During the day the bar was a diner and she was the chef's assistant. Julia was the one who got me the job. She knew they were looking for a waitress, and I'd been a waitress in Manhattan, up until a month ago, when the restaurant I'd worked for closed down.
I turned up for the interview with Mickey, but he immediately told me the diner waitress position was filled, and offered me a job bartending and cocktail waitressing instead. I was very pleased as he described it as a much better one; better pay, and the opportunity to make a lot more in tips.
Little did I know what he was grooming me for.
I snorted in disgust.
Not the kind of tips I wanted to earn.
There was no way was I going to get involved in what went on in the back rooms; the rooms where the looser of Mickey's bar girls earned a lot of extra tips by sharing intimate body parts with guys.
Still, a job was a job. It was just a shame I didn't get to work alongside Julia. I was looking forward to that. I couldn't say I was too keen on many of the girls I worked with in the bar. I liked Sally, the cleaner, and particularly newly wed Jessica, who tended bar. I'd spent a while chatting with her in the restroom. But the other half a dozen were either bitches or a whole load of immorality. Not the kinda girls I wanted to associate too closely with.

Chapter Two

The low rumble of motorcycles shook through the building like an earthquake. Their glaring lights moved past the windows, then died.
Excitement grew inside me as the silence of anticipation descended on the bar. I served someone with a round of vodka shots when the door flung open and there they were.
The Riders.
A bunch of guys after whom the bar was named. They were Mill Creek Ranch hands who rode real horses on the ranch for a living, and packed some serious metal horsepower on the road.
A tough bunch of guys if there ever was one. Apparently, from what I'd heard from Julia, one of them usually ended up in jail on a Friday or Saturday for some reason or another.
Christie, Cherry and Lola descended on the four of them as they arrived. The girls sounded like squealing stuck pigs, as they competed with each other, covering them with kisses and draping arms everywhere. The men moved through the throng, shaking off their female entourage, as they headed for things of more pressing importance... a drink at the bar.
Joshua Lyle, the head honcho and no-good son-of-a-bitch, stood before me.
He was the hottest, sexiest, most self-assured piece of attitude on the planet.
He could well have the words 'come hither, and thou shalt be burned' tattooed on his dick.
I may be inexperienced with men, but I knew his type. Bad news. The type my mom had made mistakes with. She openly admitted she went for the wrong sort. She was drawn to looks and bad attitude and here was a prime example of it.
His swept back brown hair spoke to female fingers, calling out to them to grab it; his wicked hazel eyes stole a girl's soul, and he had the kind of lips you'd want to devour from dusk till dawn.
“Eight beers, sweetheart.” His deep voice rumbled through me like thunder. “Mickey put that on my tab will ya, pal,” he called across to Mickey who raised a thumb in acknowledgment.
“Okay... there you go,” I muttered, as I grabbed the bottles from the cooler and popped the lids, lining them up on the bar. He passed the other three guys two each.
He leaned over the bar, on his forearms, cocked his head and slowly fucked me with his eyes.
It was a lazy look that said, you don't wanna know the kind of things I'd like to do to you.
I bristled with indignation and annoyance, while I burned beneath his gaze.
He smiled widely, flashing his perfect white teeth.
“So...you're new to Olson, I guess?” he asked.
“I don't live here. I live in Preston,” I explained politely, trying to keep my smile cool.
Preston was the town next door, seven miles away.
“What's your name, girl?”
“Tiffany.”
“Tiffany... pretty name.”
“What's yours, boy,” I addressed him in the same lowly manner as he'd addressed me and pretended I didn't know his name or that his pop owned half the town, and the surrounding zillion acres of farmland. Not to mention the bar I was standing in.
“Joshua, call me Josh.”
“Oh, can I?” I wasn't sure if my sarcasm was lost on him, but he did raise an eyebrow,
His eyes continued to roam very openly over my scantily dressed body.
The bar uniform Mickey made us all wear didn't cover too much skin. I hesitated to call it a uniform. Underwear would have been a more apt description. It consisted of low cut black satin hotpants, monogrammed on the back pocket with a silver R, and a stretchy rhinestone-studded cropped black vest. I'd completed the brief ensemble with black over the knee socks and my black converse trainers. With my long blonde hair secured in a high pony tail and bubblegum pink lipstick, I thought I'd managed to achieve a naughty cheerleader look, rather than than the intended biker tart.
Mickey had insisted I try on the micro hotpants at my interview, explaining that I needed to have the right sized ass for the job. He then proceeded to have a hands on feel of my female assets, to ensure I wasn't carrying too much padding up top. That had stunned me into enraged silence, but the heavy slap to the rear shocked the hell out of me. I'd been unable to keep silent any longer.
“Do you mind?” I'd snapped at him.
“I can't say I do...no...” he sniggered, dirtily, “when can you start, sweetheart?”
He'd served up his sexual harassment with an on the spot job offer. And he hadn't even looked at my resume. Warning bells rang loudly in my ears at that point, but I needed the job.
Not that Mickey really bothered me that much; he was just a pain in the ass, and a creepy, dirty jerk-off; I could handle him. He didn't cause me to lose much sleep.
I smiled at Joshua, briefly, telling myself sternly that he was not as smoking hot as he seemed and definitely not the most gorgeous guy I'd ever encountered. But my eyes knew I was lying. They kept straying his way to get a bigger visual fix.
I was pretty sure Joshua Lyle wouldn't ever need to pay for extras. He'd get any girl he wanted for free. Especially here, where his pop owned the bar business that Mickey managed.
As I looked at Joshua, I couldn't stop the flashback of the previous weekend.
Somehow, my erotic man fantasy had left my head, and had become real life flesh and blood.
The minute he'd arrived through the door, Jessica had nudged me, as I stood in staring adoration.
“Don't ever go there, okay?” she'd whispered in my ear.
“Why not?” I'd asked, idly fishing for information. I wasn't intending to go there. I had no problem looking and fantasizing though.
“He's a heart-breaker through and through. Christie's been hot on his tail for the past two years... practically throws herself at him... but she'll never tie him down, you can tell, he's just not interested in that kind of thing.”
“I'll keep that in mind,” I smiled.
“The Lyles are like royalty round here...”
She went on to explain who he was, with a good amount of detail, and I lapped up the words with great interest.
Joshua and three of the other Rider guys sat down in a booth, receiving table service.
I'd been looking his way, unable to stop staring.
As I watched him through the evening, it had seemed as if all my senses were on high alert, absorbing his movements, his smile, the sound of his voice and his deep and filthy laughter.
My man fantasy had lounged lazily in the booth, swigging his beer and swinging his knee around. His ultra pale ripped jeans and Guns 'n Roses T shirt hit my spot. As did the unkempt brown hair and the can't-be-fucked half-laced boots on the end of his long legs.
He really had made me drool. Sweet heaven, he was way too hot.
Christie, had been their 'cocktail waitress', Mickey's tarted-up term for the a beer girl, who waited on the booths. She'd interrupted my erotic study, delivering another tray of beer to the guys. By this stage they were well on the way to drinking themselves stupid.
She'd wrapped her arm around his neck and given him an enthusiastic kiss on the mouth. He'd pushed her away good-naturedly, with a pat on her black satin ass.
I hadn't quite believed it when she bobbed down, and very discretely slipped under the table, maneuvering between his legs. I had to hand it to him, his facial expression gave nothing away, as to what was going on. Although he had slammed his bottle of beer down very hard at one point, just a minute before Christie re-emerged. As she'd hugged him, before she wandered off, it had all seemed rather sad. She must have been so desperate for his attention, to do that kind of thing in the bar.
But despite that, inexplicably, I'd wanted to lick his half laced boots for his cool handling of the situation.
I brought myself out of that heated memory and picked up a cloth, starting to dry some washed glasses. This was a constant chore which went on all evening.
“Hey... Tiffany,” I looked up, and his warm eyes twinkled at me. “Need a ride home?”
“It's okay, I have transport, thank you,” I refused politely, but I couldn't help but imagine being pressed up tight against his sexy back on his hot Harley... my arms around his waist... all that high ranking horsepower vibrating and throbbing beneath us.
I had my own bike... not a great sex machine, like his V-Rod... but it got me around in reasonable style. It was the cheapest way to travel between home, college and work.
“Maybe another time, huh?” His eyes held mine as he took a sip of his beer.
“Yeah, thanks for the offer anyway. ”
At that point our conversation ended, as one of the pole dancers climbed on the bar to a round of loud cheers.
The volume of music was ramped up and I took advantage of another short breather.
I gazed around the packed bar. It had a lot of atmosphere.
It was nicely done out. Tasteful. Which was quite amazing as Mickey was anything but.
A monochrome color scheme set the tone. Large framed posters and photographs of Harleys hung on the pale gray walls, together with a faded out Hell's Angels denim vest and some shiny bike parts. The glass in the windows had been painted with some neat biker scenes in silhouette.
I wiped the bar down. The black granite bar-top looked expensive, and the silver pumps shined with the regular polish they received.
It was a pretty cool working space, not a seedy dive bar. From the superficial aspect anyway.
The clientele who stood before me were mainly twenties to forties guys. I knew a few were bikers, but most were just ordinary working men who enjoyed a good 'guys' night out.
And that's what they were about to get.

Chapter Three

All eyes were trained upward, as Maggie started to cast off her clothing. She wrapped herself round the pole, tossing items at the male audience, to a cacophony of appreciative and loud whooping sounds.
I had to admit, she was good... real good... teasing the poor guys to the point of insanity.
I cast a glance at her fabulous red velvet underwear with its black lace ruffles. It was truly gorgeous. Riders wasn't a strip club, they always kept their underwear on. As well as the pole dancers, Mickey hired class acts now and then... live bands... comedy... singers.
Kelly cleaned her end of the bar as I finished cleaning mine, working up to Maggie's space.
I'd picked up a lot of tips watching Kelly. She'd been working here for years and handled the bottles, ice and glasses like a pro. But that was all I admired about her.
She was a prize bitch.
Kelly sauntered up to me, giving me a scathing up and down look. She obviously didn't care too much for my cheerleader look. Neither did I care too much for her fishnets and thigh-boots.
“You look kinda stupid, honey. Where's your sense of style, stuck in tenth grade?” I was seething, but kept my cool.
“I'm diluting the hooker uniform, something you might want to consider, seriously,” I replied, giving her much the same look as she'd given me.
“Oh, now listen to you... you think you're so much better than me, don't you?”
“I don't know, should I?” But I did think being a nice girl, who'd only ever slept with one guy in her twenty years, and studying the law, sat a good shelf higher in life than a bar hooker.
She stood there, all wild hair and attitude, glaring at me. Not that I cared. I didn't particularly want to be friends with prostitutes, especially her. She was the worst kind of all because she didn't have a nice bone in her body. I could overlook the tart if she had some kind of heart.
I turned away and loaded the washer with the dirty glasses, switching it on for a quick wash. Joshua was hugging the bar, close by my side, watching Maggie fake an orgasm. He had a very appealing little smile hovering on his lips.
I did my best to ignore his appeal and got on with my work.
“Hiya babe, how's things?” Kelly asked him, her eyes doe-like and her lashes batting away like crazy.
“Cool, always cool, Kells, you know me.”
“If there's one thing you ain't, is cool, Joshua Lyle,” she giggled. “... and hot don't come close.”
He smiled at her, obviously agreeing one hundred percent, and swigged down a mouthful of beer.
I wondered if he'd ever been with her. I expect he'd had all the good looking girls in the bar. And she was good looking, albeit in an obvious way.
A few seconds later, he leaned across the bar, beckoning for me to come close.
I took in the cool fragrance of biker badass and the amazing good looks, and felt a heavy stirring of desire. I tried to beat it back, but it was like a forest fire, spreading out of control, little embers whipping alight in my brain.
“Wanna know something?”
“I won't know till you tell me.”
“You're beautiful.” He disarmed me with his words, and his eyes drew me in. A swarm of surprised but thrilled butterflies invaded my stomach, adding fuel to the fire.
“Oh, well thank you,” I muttered graciously, with a small but genuine smile.
“I noticed you started here last weekend. I'd have come over, but I was kinda busy.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” I snorted, smothering a laugh.
“It was my birthday, y'know?”
“Cool. Get any presents?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Presents? Hell no. A few drinks from the guys, that's all,”
“Aww, shame, no card, cake and candles?”
He laughed. “I ain't one for any kind of fuss, I like things simple.” He licked his lips and traced his finger over my hand as it rested on the bar top. Every part of me heated up like a torch. I was very annoyed with myself, for responding so full on to him. He was a man-whore and I was a very respectable girl for crissakes.
“Yeah, just drinks and a blow-job. What more do you possibly need for a great birthday, huh?” I slipped my hand away and gave him two thumbs up, a wink and a click of my tongue.
His resounding, throaty chuckle and hot grin fanned my flames.
“I was kinda trashed, I hardly noticed...”
“Really? You didn't notice? Maybe Christie should work on her technique. I'll have a word later.”
He slapped the bar with his hand, his laughter coming from deep inside him. I couldn't help but giggle and break into a wide smile of my own.
“You're a fun girl. Wanna share a smoke outside? Let's go talk and get to know each other some more.” His eyes flared sexily.
That was a definite no-go.
I was sure Joshua Lyle was the kind of guy who liked to get to know you intimately first and talk after.
“In case you haven't noticed, I'm at work.”
“I'll have a word with Mickey? Get you my side of the bar for a while. You can come work on me, personally,” he smirked.
“No! Don't.” I said panicking. I could quite easily imagine Mickey forcing me into a situation where I had to do something I didn't want to, just to keep Charlie Lyle's son happy.
“What's the problem?” He probed my eyes with his.
“You are,” I muttered quietly to myself, “No problem, just busy, you know... now if you don't mind, I have other customers to talk to and a hundred glasses to dry. You go hang with your badass gang. They're missing you.” I said, and shooed him away with my hand. As the words left my lips, and I glanced their way, I noticed they weren't missing him at all. His hot pal Kicker, who had an awesome scar on his forehead, was in a tight hip and lip-lock with Cherry, and the other two; whose names I didn't know, were being entertained by three girls, all vying for their attention. There were perfectly manicured hands all over their shoulders, arms and thighs...trying to get a prime handful of Rider guy.
He cast a glance over his shoulder and turned back with a lazy grin.
“They're doing just fine.”
“Go join the party. Get some Friday night action in.”
“Not my scene. Not that kind of guy.”
Based on my intuition, what I heard and seen, I seriously doubted that was true. But I wanted to hear a little more of his lies in any case. I put down my dish towel, giving him my full attention. “So what kind of guy are you? I'm dying to know.”
He paused for a few seconds grabbing an good eyeful of my tits and navel.
“What kind of guy am I? Hmm, let me think...”
He scratched his chin and rimmed his teeth with his tongue, sexily. His eyes snagged mine. His penetrating gaze did things to me, forcing me to stare, unable to look away. My stomach fluttered and rolled. I couldn't get over his affect on me.
“I'm honest... hardworking... fun-loving... pretty damn good with my hands...” he smirked, “and...” he beckoned with his finger for me to come closer. I leaned down on the bar to catch the rest of his great lying revelation.
His hand slipped round the back of my head, grabbing my pony tail and twisting it tightly, imprisoning my head. A few seconds later, the softness of his lips crushed against mine.
He really turned me on, but I swallowed my moan of excitement before it left my mouth.
A raging fire lit inside me and my heart rate shot into the stratosphere.
He was hot sex. Very hot sex. Fucking nuclear sex.
As he kissed me, I was powerless to stop him. I loved every sensual second his lips were on mine. But at that moment, I hated myself for being such a walkover.
I'd been kissed a fair few times, but no kiss had ever affected me anything like this before. If teasing my lips, softly nipping, and stroking his mouth over mine produced this kind of reaction, I seriously doubted my ability to defend myself against him, if he pushed it somewhere private.
For the first time I understood what my mom meant, when she'd said she found bad boys irresistible. It appeared I was attracted to them as well.
He broke away, leaving me breathless and steaming as he spoke into my ear. “...I'm very choosy.”
“So am I. Go choose someone else, mister,” I gasped.
“Uh-uh.. “ he shook his head. “I've made my choice and it's you.”
He removed his hand from my hair with a smug grin on his face.
I was angry and confused, as a result of the conflicting emotions I was experiencing. I wanted him so bad, but I hated that fact. And I hated his assumption I was a done deal; his for the taking, but at the same time found it so arousing he wanted me.
My anger won out. “Go find another cow for your herd, stud,” I snapped.
He raised his eyebrows at me. “I don't have a herd, but I can rope you in, dead... easy...”
He turned and cockily wandered the few yards back to his guys.
Ooooh!
He needed to be taken down a peg or two.
I was now more than angry with myself for wanting him, and angry that I'd let him do that. What was the matter with me?
I'm only human. It's a severe case of lust, that's all. I'll get over it.
But I knew I needed to give him a wide berth, to ignore and avoid him until he got bored and moved on to someone more accommodating. I popped a piece of ice in my mouth to cool my anger and passion, and tidied up my wrecked pony tail which was now positioned on the side of my head.
Christie appeared at his side, and she hung on his arm, possessively, but I noticed he was looking my way as he spoke to her. His tongue traveled sexily round his lips as he caught my eye, like he was tasting and reliving that kiss, and his body language was only too clear. He was roping me in, alright.
He mouthed a kiss at me, slowly and sexily and I flamed even more. My thoughts were bordering obscene. Thoughts of him smothering my naked body with his, pinning me down, taking me hard and fast, saying my name, his breath hot in my ear.
I moaned, silently.
I really needed to get myself in check. This was ridiculous.
Anger rose within me like a storm. I wasn't allowing this to go on a minute longer.
He smiled, a very persuasive smile, his eyes flaring meaningfully, and he cocked his head toward the back door.
I had the perfect opportunity to sort him out. My feet began walking to the end of the bar and out the door.
I looked over my shoulder to find he'd dumped Christie. She stood open mouthed as he left her in close pursuit of me. I didn't think this would endear me to her much. But at that moment I didn't care about that. I had something to say.
I paced to the end of alleyway, behind the kitchen, and turned to face him. I wasn't short at five six, but he was much taller and such an overpowering presence.
For a moment I forgot why I was there, as I admired the way he filled out his fitted black jeans so perfectly and how his tight black T-shirt hugged his shoulders and muscular arms.
Much as I wanted to sort him out, and tell him to take a long ride down the road to fucking nowhere, I could feel a big, bad mistake coming on.
But thank God I had a blinding vision which saved me from making my mistake. I thought of my mom and all her bad mistakes and that hardened my resolve pretty damn fast.
“So... you wanna go on a date?”
I was pretty sure I knew what he wanted and it wasn't a date.
“No thanks.” I shook my head.
He looked confused, like he'd never heard the word no, and I was speaking in a foreign language to him.
“A date... you know... that old fashioned concept where a guy and girl go out somewhere and have a good time together.”
“Sorry, but I'm way too busy.”
“Tell me when you're not busy.”
“My diary's completely full for the next two years.”
“Two fucking years?”
“Aha...”
He scratched his head, grinning at me, like he really couldn't believe I was turning him down.
He took his black iPhone out of his back pocket and placed it in my hand. “C'mon, stop fucking me around, playing hard to get, gimme your number, babe.”
I enjoyed the warm feel of it, all hot-ass-phone.
“Sorry, but no, you can't have it.” I handed his cellphone back.
He stared at me, looking seriously pissed off as I stood there defiantly with my hands on my hips.
He must have decided mere words weren't persuasive enough, he needed to employ his whole mouth and his body to win me over, because the next moment he moved in on me.
Did I push him away? No. The resist button in my brain was instantly deactivated.
I melted all over him like ice cream on a hot cake.
His lips met mine and I heated up rapidly at his touch, wanting him so very badly. So much so, that I throbbed and ached inside.
He drew back and looked into my eyes, gauging my reaction.
“Kiss me all night, it won't change a goddamn thing. I won't go on a date you.”
“Yes you will,” he breathed into my ear, confidently. His mouth trailed up and down my neck scorching little circles of fire. In seconds I tipped into an uncaring needy state of insanity, my skin searing hot and my breath coming in tortured, gasping little puffs of air.
“I don't even like you,” I protested, feebly.
With a deep groan, the sound of which sent me shooting up in flames, he covered my protest with his mouth, and started to kiss me slowly and thoroughly. My toes curled in pleasure and everything contracted inside my belly.
Oh no. Not a slow, killer kiss...
He dragged my response out of me, with softly moving lips and a touch of tongue. My head exploded with desire as he nipped at my mouth and sucked my bottom lip. This guy could kiss. I mean really kiss.
With a breathy sigh of pure pleasure, my arms slipped tightly around his waist.
His tongue entered my mouth, conquering and possessing.
At that moment I wasn't aware of anything in the world but the feel of him pressed against me and his tongue stroking mine; the rush of sensations flooding and overpowering me; the fire burning in my belly and an unholy ache inside my core.
My stomach and legs turned to liquid.
It was much too arousing and he was much too good at it.
I kissed him back, hard and passionately, clutching at his hair, messing it up. My other hand slipped to his ass, as I ground into him, in wild abandon. I was intoxicated by him, my senses drugged and at his command.
He broke away abruptly, his breath heavy and fast.
His eyes were full of fire, passion and mischief.
“So you don't like me huh?”
His fingers stroked my face softly.
I was ship wrecked on his shore as I looked into those eyes.
The bastard.
“I was pretending you were someone else.”
He snorted at my downright lie. “The fuck you were...”
He mouth came down hard on mine and our tongues began mating with an intensity which shook every nerve receptor in my body like an earthquake.
Desire. Intense chemistry. Sexual need.
All three raged through me uncontrollably. The blood started to sizzle in my veins as his hands roamed around the naked skin of my waist, up around my ribcage, skimming the underside of my breasts.
Oh my God, I need to feel him, in the same way, to touch his body.
I slipped my hands up the back of his t-shirt, touching the warm softness of skin overlying the muscle beneath. That seemed to kick things off in a big way, because the next thing I knew, I was against the wall, his heavy weight was upon me and his hands were everywhere. He cupped my ass and squeezed me to him.
I could feel the hardness of his erection pressing into my stomach and I wanted it with a craving beyond all reason. My hand reached down, between us and I grabbed his cock through his jeans, taking hold of my prize in in a tight grip.
“Christ...” he groaned, in response.
His fingers began traveling up my inner thigh to the top. To the most desperate part of me.
I was steaming hot, soaking wet and dying for him to touch me there. He probed around as I squeezed and stroked at the object of my desires, working it through the soft denim.
Blood pounded in my ears, as his fingers began rubbing inside the edges of my shorts and panties, spreading my wetness.
“Omigod... yes... yes...” I panted, praying for more and more of this delicious experience; the pressure of his perfect fingers stroking me.
My grip tightened around him. I needed all of that inside me like nothing else.
A small click and a long draw of breath invaded our space..
“Well now... look at this... can I join the party?” Mickey's voice broke through our heated delirium, throwing a bucket of ice over our passion.
“Shit... fuck off Mickey...” Joshua groaned.
I pushed Joshua away. The both of us seemed to find our sudden comedown, from that high point of arousal, to be both painful and hard to manage.
“We'll finish this later, when we don't have a fucking audience,” he said quietly.
“No... consider this done.” I corrected him.
“Oh c'mon, you want it as much as I do.”
“I had a hormonal surge. I'm over it now.”
“Goddamit woman, what is it with you, huh? One minute you're fire, the next you're ice...”
“I'm having an hormonal day. Normally I'm just ice.”
“Hmm... let me know when the thaw sets in.”
“Don't hold your breath it ever will.”
Joshua turned and stalked off, glaring at Mickey as he passed him at the doorway of the bar.
I leaned up against the wall to support myself and recover from the shock.
He'd placed an all out assault on my senses. Desire of this magnitude had never invaded me before. I could still feel his hands on my naked skin, his fingertips stroking my sex, his tongue in my mouth, tasting and claiming.
That was a serious sexual meltdown.
Thank God Mickey had come outside when he had.
What would I have let him do? Go the whole way, in a fucking dirty alleyway?
My eyes filled with hot stinging tears. I swallowed and gulped them back.
Why had I come out here with him?
Hadn't I told myself I couldn't resist him?
Well this had proven it beyond a doubt.
I was such a stupid idiot.
I couldn't stop the tears brimming and rolling down my cheeks.
Hadn't Mom's mistakes taught me anything at all?
I was as weak as she was.
And that scared me.


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