Another spell of silence descended on them as they lay together. Micah held Delilah in his arms. He stroked her golden hair and wondered if he might be able to make up an excuse to see her again. She was beautiful and she gave him, by far, the best s.e.x he'd had in a long time.

"I want to come see you again," Micah said casually. Shocked at his own admission, he bit his tongue. He had accidentally blurted out a commitment he'd only idly considered.

"You do?" Delilah asked. She looked up at him with a mixed look of surprise and hope.

"Yes, I do," Micah said more firmly. "The minute I saw you on that stage, I knew I had to have you. So, I approached you after the gig and here we are."

"That was so stupid of me," Delilah said despondently. "I can't believe I thought a big music company rep would come down to some tiny redneck town in the middle of nowhere to hear one bargirl sing."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Micah said, trying to be supportive.

"Ever since I discovered I could sing, I've wanted to become a country singing star," Delilah said, as she poured her heart out. "I've tried and failed to get the attention of the people who can make that dream come true. That's why I downed four shots in fifteen minutes before letting a guy I've never met before come home with me and f.u.c.k me senseless. I mean, don't get me wrong, you were amazing, but you probably think I'm just a small town wh.o.r.e."

"No, I don't," Micah categorically replied. "As long as you keep pursuing your dreams, they'll eventually come true."

Delilah stayed silent for a moment. She turned his words over in her head.

"That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me," she murmured with a smile.

"And that's the sweetest this bad boy biker ever gets," Micah replied. Then, he reached over and closed the bedroom curtain.

Below are some of Ellen Graves' other works to enjoy! Tap the covers for a sample

Free Riders.

Ellen Graves.

I drew back hesitantly at the volume of the music pounding through the big oak door, then quickly reprimanded myself. No Sabrina, you can't quit now. Grow a pair and walk in. I took a deep breath and smoothed down my leather jacket, regretting my last-minute purchase of a form-fitting dress as I pulled up on my neckline without letting my hemline creep up.

"Coming in, Sugar?" The bulked-up bouncer smiled at me. The tattoo wrapped around his right forearm marked him as a member of the Asphalt Knights.

My friend pushed me from behind as she whispered in my ear. "You wanted to live on the edge, Sab," she reminded me. She was right. It was time for me to shed my good girl image and get my nose out of my books. I took a step forward.

"You ladies got invitations?" The bouncer asked.

My friend stepped in front of me and reached into her purse for our invites, handing them over without a trace of fear.

The bouncer looked over the shiny pieces of paper. "Melina Samuels and Sabrina Wilkens. IDs?" He winked at me when I held out my driver's license with a trembling hand. He glanced at our IDs before handing them back and stepping aside to open the door.

"Welcome, ladies."

I swallowed loudly and walked through the door. The wall of noise and the smell of motor oil and cigarette smoke washed over me as I took in the scene with a sigh of relief. This didn't look like anything too out-of-control. I'd expected everyone to be carrying guns and making drug deals and a huge fight to break out without provocation. Instead, a group of men were standing around some motorcycles talking shop and a couple of pool games were going on in a corner.

I turned to share my observations with my friend, only to find that she had disappeared in the crowd. Drumming up some false bravado, I approached the bar and ordered my first rum and c.o.ke of the night. I laughed as the bartender flirted outrageously with me, not used to the male attention I was getting. I was pulled onto the dance floor numerous times by multiple men until I begged off, citing a need to visit the bathroom. The bartender waved me to the back of the building, saying the bathroom was on the right-hand side.

I wobbled away, abruptly aware of my lightweight status. I walked to the back of the room looking for a sign indicating the washroom. As I reached for the k.n.o.b, a large hand gripped my wrist, making me jump.

"I don't think you're ready for what's behind that door, doll," a deep voice said from above me. I looked up, way up, and stared into the face of a giant. The heat emanating from his body filtered through my leather jacket and thin dress, making me wish I was wearing more clothing.

"I was... looking for a washroom," I stuttered.

With his hand still gripping my wrist, the other arm snaked around my mid-section, pulling me closer against his body. "That's not the washroom."

"What's behind that door?"

"Those are rooms for people who want a little... privacy," he replied, and I felt myself blush at the implication. He took a step back and released his hold around my stomach, but kept his grip on my wrist. "C'mon," he said as he pulled me behind him along the back wall, leaving a s.p.a.ce for me to travel in his wake, to enter through another door.

I a.s.sumed he was taking me to the bathroom, so I froze when we entered a quiet hallway. I looked around the hallway and noticed we were alone. My heart started thumping loudly as I realized I could be raped by the looming figure that held me captive.

He must have seen something in my expression, because he let go of my wrist and raised his hands. "Don't worry Doll, I won't hurt you."

I took a step back as he came forward. The back of his hand ran down my arms, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. "I don't need to force women to get them into my bed," he whispered conspiratorially.

I barely heard his voice over the sound of my heart beating, so it took me a moment to react to his statement. I pushed on his chest, trying to create some s.p.a.ce between our bodies, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. His hands left my arms and wrapped around my hips, holding me even closer. I watched him warily.

"Where are you taking me then?"

"To my bathroom."

"Your... bathroom?"

He nodded. "I thought I'd be nice and let you use mine instead of waiting in line for the other one," he answered coyly, "and if you feel like thanking me in some way... well, I wouldn't say no."

"I'm not going to kiss a stranger just so I can use a washroom," I sputtered.

"Who said anything about kissing?" His smile widened. He tugged on my hips, pulling me off balance and causing me to wrap my hands around his ma.s.sive arms to keep from faceplanting onto his chest.

"I thought you didn't need to force your women," I replied dryly.

He smirked. "I don't."

He lent down and brushed a kiss across my lips. Surprised, I let out a gasp, which he took as an invitation.

I whimpered as his sharp teeth grazed my lower lip and opened my mouth to his a.s.sault. With my compliance, his hands shifted from my hips to my nape and lower back , locking me in place as his tongue took possession.

My hands travelled up his arms, pushing up the sleeves of his t-shirt. My nails dug into his shoulders in response to a particularly sharp nip of his teeth on my lips, eliciting an earthy groan from him. Shifting his weight, he bent further down toward me, causing my erect nipples to rub against his broad chest.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, unwilling to give up the sensations shooting from my sensitive nipples to my sopping wet p.u.s.s.y as he lifted me up and pushed me back against the wall of the hallway. The forceful thrust of his hips and the relentless pressure of his pelvis against mine reminded me of my urgent need for a washroom.

I tore my mouth away from his, shaking my hair out of his fist. Undeterred, his mouth rooted under the cover of my leather jacket and latched onto the top of my breast, leaving wet marks behind. I slapped at his shoulders, pulling him out of his l.u.s.tful haze. When he finally brought his eyes up to mine I gasped, "Bathroom."

Panting, he slowly put me back down and took a hold of my wrist again, this time rubbing his thumb back and forth across the inside of my wrist as we walked down the hall. I wasn't sure if he was trying to calm down my heart rate or speed it up, but whatever he was doing, I was hooked. Pulling me into a small office, he pointed to the en-suite and took a seat on the couch, apparently prepared to wait until I was done.

I hurried into the bathroom and quickly did my business. Looking at myself in the mirror as I washed my hands, I didn't recognize the seductress that stood in front of me. My lips were red and swollen and my hair had come out of my carefully designed hairstyle, tumbling around my shoulders and giving me a softer look. My normally pale skin, which rarely sees sunlight due to the time I spend studying, finally had some color.

I was stunned by my bold behavior with a man I'd just met, and was embarra.s.sed that I, for all intents and purposes, had my tongue down some stranger's throat. Taking a quick look outside the door, I shyly cleared my throat and asked, "So, um, I didn't quite catch your name."

The corner of his lip curled into an amused smirk and he answered ,"James Avery."

I took a slow step out of the bathroom. "Is this really your office?"

James sat back casually, the breadth of his body taking up most of the s.p.a.ce on the couch. "Yes, I'm the Vice President of the club."

"Oh... cool," I said lamely. I chastised myself for my inept flirting. The copious amounts of liquid courage I'd consumed tonight had only allowed me to dance with random men and make out with a stranger. My verbal skills were still lacking.

With the speed of a striking cobra, James snagged me by the waist and pulled me into his lap. "And what's your name, doll?"

"Sabrina," I replied a little breathlessly.

"Sabrina..." he prompted.

I grinned slyly. "Wouldn't you like to know."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "So it's like that, is it? Well, I have ways of making you talk." His arms became vices around my waist and pinned my arms as he peppered my face, neck, and exposed shoulders with kisses, bites, and licks. My initial giggles turned into moans and whimpers, my body becoming desperate for his touch.

I squirmed uncontrollably on his lap until I felt the thin material of my thong make contact with the bulge in his jeans, and I realized that the bottom of my dress was now bunched up around my waist, exposing my lower half to the open air. I froze, the good girl I've always been warring with the vixen I wanted to be tonight.

James paused at a spot just below my ear. I could feel his breath brush the base of my earlobe as he swore profusely. "What now?" he groaned.

"I... I'm not... It's..." I stumbled over my words as my brain raced to make a decision. Did I want to break away from my boring, innocent life and f.u.c.k a man on a couch in the back of a motorcycle club, or should I scurry back to the dance floor, where I can hide in comfort and pretend that I'm a rebel?

"You're not a virgin are you?" James asked, unable to hide his frustration and apparent aversion to a.s.sociating with virgins.

"What? No," I snorted. "I had a boyfriend in high school," I said by way of explanation.

"Ooookay... then what's the problem?" His fingers curled around the back of my thong, pulling sharply and making me gasp in surprise as the fabric rubbed against my c.l.i.t. Decision made.

"Nothing," I said while I ran my fingers through his hair. I nibbled on his scruffy jaw in an attempt to distract him. He turned his head to capture my lips in a hot, wet kiss.

"G.o.d, you have such a hot, s.e.xy body," he murmured. "So much to touch and grab onto. Every time I get my hands on your curves, I lose my mind."

My hands dropped away from his hair and traveled down his arms. I stared at the plethora of intricate tattoos that made up his two sleeves.

"Your tattoos are so s.e.xy." My fingers brushed the Asphalt Knights coat of arms on his shoulder. "What do they mean?"

"You want to know now?" he asked skeptically. At my nod, he proceeded to tell me about his journey with the club, starting with the Asphalt Knights coat of arms on his shoulder and ending on his forearm with the insignia that marked him as Vice President. My fingers traced each tattoo as he described them. He then moved onto the other sleeve, which depicted his family history, starting with the Avery family crest and moving to the ink that symbolized his family, both alive and dead.

I was enthralled by his stories, but not enough to ignore the tugging on my thong or the warm hand caressing my b.u.t.t cheek. When he used his grip on my a.s.s to rock my swollen c.l.i.t up against the ridge of his c.o.c.k and the rough material of his jeans, my p.u.s.s.y flooded with fresh juices and I bit back the moan that threatened to escape. I caught a glimmer of his triumphant smile before he hid it behind a kiss to my left shoulder. I stumbled for words.

"So what happens if you leave the club?"

"Why would I leave the Knights?" James asked incredulously.

I shrugged. "I don't know. It was just a question."

"The Knights are my family, I would never dream of leaving them," James said fiercely.

"Ok then, sorry I asked."

James merely grunted, lifting me off his lap and setting me on the couch. He went into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. I could hear him muttering as water ran in the sink. I took the time he was in the washroom to fix my dress and disheveled hair.

When he opened the door, I apologized.

"I didn't mean to offend you," he grunted.

"Wanna dance?" he asked.

"What?"

James ran a callused hand through his hair and down his face. "We need to get out of here before I have you naked and bent over the couch arm as I f.u.c.k you roughly from behind," he stated in a gravelly voice, and I shivered with antic.i.p.ation.

I stood up and backed toward the door, opening it and entering the hallway with James hot at my heels. We walked silently down the hall, the heat of his palm on my lower back as he guided me back to the party, causing phantom heat to spread across my body.

I was again caught off-guard by the change in volume as we moved into the main room, but James didn't even miss a beat as he guided me smoothly onto the dance floor. I saw him give someone a look over my head, but I had no idea who he was looking at and he held me too closely for me to get a good look behind me.

After a few songs, he led me over to a table where he introduced me to the President of the club and his wife. I'd only been seated a few minutes when a man I'd danced with earlier in the evening approached and asked if I wanted to dance. Before I had a chance to answer, I felt James' arm wrap around my shoulder and pull me tightly to his side. He ignored the frown I shot him because he was too busy glaring at my potential dance partner, who hastily made his retreat.

Unimpressed by his possessive behavior after having only known him for an hour, I pushed myself out of the booth and onto the dance floor. After all, I'd come here to let loose, not to sit back and watch the world pa.s.s me by.

I wasn't surprised when James followed me out onto the floor, or when he immediately pressed me up against his body, but I was surprised by the angry, edgy kiss he bestowed on me. We were so focused on each other that we were unprepared when we were struck by a large body from the side, knocking us flat on our a.s.ses.

I looked up to see two hulking brutes exchanging blows and wrestling in the middle of the dance floor. Even more shocking was the mob mentality that overtook the crowd in the room. Instead of stepping in and breaking up the fight, a circle was starting to form around the tussling men and bets were being made on who would win the fight. James was helping me to my feet when I caught the silver flash of a knife out of the corner of my eye. One of the men swung his bowie knife toward his ducking opponent, knocking the knife-wielder off balance and sending him stumbling toward me with his arms raised and the tip of the knife pointed at my heart. I felt the cut of the knife as I was physically lifted and placed behind James' broad back as he roared.

"STOP!"

Either the room went silent or I couldn't tell what was being said over the buzzing in my ears. As I started to go into shock, my vision narrowed and my knees collapsed from under me. I felt arms surround me but I couldn't tell who held me. It was only when I came back to awareness sitting on James' lap with his arms securely fastened around me as I trembled that I realized how close I had come to being seriously injured. I looked down at the the sliced strap of my dress and bra.

"I want to go home," I whispered. I tried to pull the lapels of my jacket together but my hands were shaking so badly I couldn't get a good grip on the soft leather.

James squeezed me tighter. "Ok doll. I'll take you home."

"No!" I yelled. I cleared my throat and tried again at a more normal volume. "No, I came with a friend. We promised we'd go home together."

James directed my attention to my friend in the corner currently sucking face with a man with dreadlocks. She didn't look ready to come up for air anytime soon.

James brushed the hair out from my eyes and tucked it behind my ear. I couldn't help but notice his fingers were trembling as hard as I was. "I'm not sure your friend is ready to go. It's not a problem to take you home."

I blew a breath from pursed lips and contemplated the offer. "I still need to tell her I'm going."

"Fair enough."

James helped me up and I started forward to interrupt the make-out session, but chickened out halfway when the man pulled her through the door that James had stopped me from entering earlier that evening. I spun on my heels and walked back to the booth.