Tease Read online

She clinks the new shot glass again and I throw the gold liquid back. It goes down a little smoother this time, but burns something fierce when it hits my stomach.

  “Oh my gawd, we need like a twenty second break. How can you drink this shit so fast?”

  “Humph...I’m married to Cain, remember? My old man hooked me by doing body shots off me in front of the entire club—laying claim. It’s sorta our thing.”

  “Lucky bitch.” She knows it too. She deserves to be happy; she’s cool people.

  “I’ll be back in a few; I’m going to call my house to check on Jamison and the baby.”

  “All right, I’ll be right here guarding the bar.”

  “Good plan.” She chuckles and walks off, digging out her cell.

  Jamison is her little boy. Really cute kid—full of mischief though. She’s going to go crazy when he’s a teenager if he turns out anything like his parents. London was always up to shit in high school. The entire sheriff’s department knew her by name.

  “Ready for another?” I’m drawn in by a gravelly voice. Glancing up from my beer bottle I was nursing, I’m met with stormy eyes, a dark scruffy face, and a whiff of cologne that smells so good I could possibly orgasm just from that alone.

  “Nope, this one’s doing the job.”

  “You’ve been workin’ on it for a whole minute; I bet it’s got to be warm by now.” He ends on a smirk and I can’t help but imagine what that mouth would feel like all over me. That’s definitely the tequila kicking in.

  Shrugging, I turn to gaze off into the club. The bar is big and festively decorated with a tree and tinsel everywhere. It screams London’s doing. I’m sure she had a field day sprinkling sparkles all over this biker place.

  “Okay, fine. How about I get a shot and we kill that other one you have left?”

  He’s still here? He couldn’t take the hint to leave me be? I don’t want to wake up with a drunken mistake tomorrow and he’s got one-night stand written all over him.

  “What is it with you wanting me to drink?” I can’t be too snotty; after all, he is a biker and this is his club. I trail my eyes over his cut—he’s shirtless underneath. His patches say prospect and Snake.

  He ignores the question and steps away to pour himself a shot and I get a flash of abs. After he fills up a small tumbler with tequila and makes his way back over to me, I catch a huge, gnarly tattooed scar on his stomach.

  “Hey, is that your name? Snake? That’s a little creepy.”

  His eyes flash and something scary alters his expression briefly before he paints on an exaggerated smile. He opens his cut so I can get a better look at his tight stomach. He has a huge scar running over his abs in a squiggly line. Tattooed on top of the scar is an array of colors in black, yellow, and red making the imperfection look like a massive snake slithering over his body. After a second he turns and I’m able to see that the tattoo carries onto his back, looking like it’s wrapped around him.

  “Wow, that’s some serious ink you have.” Ugh, guess I’m just captain obvious tonight.

  “Yup, goes with the name and all.” He flashes his dimples and I’m floored. Not because of his sexy bad boy manner, but because I know him!

  Well, I don’t exactly know him, but I remember him from freaking high school. He wasn’t like this back then though—rough around the edges. He had played in sports against our school a few times. He was such a pretty boy athlete back then.

  Brently, yes that was his name, Mr. Popular. Brently obviously has his reasons for looking like this now, so I won’t mention it yet that I know who he is.

  I wonder if London remembers him too. I’ll have to ask her about it later.

  “Okay, Snake, let’s do this shot. What are we toasting to?”

  “To familiar faces. Sometimes you just need to see the right one for things to finally make sense.”

  It hits me that he recognizes me too; at least we’re on the same page with that. I’m not sure about his cryptic toast, but at least he didn’t pop off a movie quote.

  I wake with a splitting headache. It feels as if someone had jumped on my head the night before. This is why I don’t normally drink tequila, but it was a Christmas celebration, so why not. I can’t even remember anything past the eighth shot.

  Eventually Snake had come around the bar to sit next to me, bringing a whole bottle along with him. We did a few shots by ourselves, and then at some point, I remember London doing body shots on top of the bar.

  Oh God. I was doing fucking body shots too. It’s blurry but I recall informing Snake that I wanted his tongue on me. Just wonderful.

  A door opens and Snake comes wandering out, freshly showered and completely naked.

  “Wow, balls!” I jump up, covering my mouth. I can’t seem to say the right thing in front of him whether I’m drunk or sober. Stop staring at his package for heaven’s sake.

  “Shit! Sorry, my head hurts badly.” I wince and rub my forehead. I wish I had some orange juice right about now to help me feel better.

  He chuckles, snatching up his jeans laying on a chair next to the bathroom door. “It’s all good, Lydia.”

  “I should go. Thanks for letting me crash. Umm...am I in your clothes?” Glancing down I’m in a pair of dark green boxers and a grey wife beater shirt. No bra, oh god, no panties either. Shit, shit, shit!

  “Yes, you are, and no need to thank me; you were very grateful last night. Do you need a ride home? I didn’t see any vehicles out front.”

  “No, I ride. But what the hell do you mean I was really thankful? We didn’t...you know...do anything, right?”

  His dimples deepen with his smirk and he saunters over, stopping about three inches away from my body.

  “No, Peppermint, trust me...you would know it if I’d been there,” he finishes, softly running his fingers over the juncture between my thighs.

  I draw in a gasp to stop me from moaning loudly and return his caress by kneeing him in the groin.

  He shoots forward, bending over, clutching his balls, groaning, “Fucking bitch! What was that for?”

  “Don’t call me Peppermint. My name’s Lydia, and don’t fucking touch me unless you’re invited.” I scan over the disarray of the room and don’t see my clothes anywhere. “I’m keeping these.” I pluck the tank with my thumb and pointer finger.

  “Whatever, take them,” Brently mutters, clearly still in pain.

  Without another word, I leave the clubhouse, making my way out to the parking area where my black and gold Hayabusa rests. I know it’s a really heavy street bike for a chick, but I absolutely love it.

  Thank god December in Texas is fairly warm or I’d freeze my ass off right now. She starts easily, purring happily that she’s going for a spin. I’ll get a little chilly, but I’ll live. The cool breeze will feel great on my hot skin and pounding head.

  I buckle my helmet, and give her a little juice.

  I was made for riding. My older brother taught me when I was fourteen and he had a little dirt bike. I absolutely loved it and have been riding ever since. My parents have always hated it and used to throw massive fits. Mikey joined the Army, was deployed, and never came back. Now they don’t mind if I ride; they’re just happy that one of their children is still alive.

  Thinking of Mikey makes me accelerate even faster—the wind blowing in my hair and fluttering over my skin reminds me of being around him. We were always laughing and out having fun.

  The sweet serenity is broken by the loud rumble of pipes coming up quick.

  No one ahead, so I peek in my side mirror, and, sure as shit, there’s a big bike behind me, rumbling like it’s pissed to be up this early. Driving the massive thing is an irritated looking Brently. He flashes his light and points for me to pull over.

  I’m not keen on wrecking, so I ease off the gas and slow down, carefully pulling over. He may have found my clothes for me; those leathers I had on were not cheap.

  I set my girl on her stand, remove my helmet and rest it behind me. His bike qui
ets after a beat and he climbs off.

  “Where’s your helmet?” I yell angrily. Is he an idiot? You can get seriously messed up, even if you’re not going fast and wreck on a bike. Not enough people have respect for bikers; we’re out here on our own.

  “It’s at the club.”

  “Dumbass.”

  He quickly approaches, determination written all over his face.

  “Can I help you with something? Why’d you pull me over?”

  “So this is your crotch rocket?”

  “Faster than that ancient bike back there.”

  “It’s a Harley, and I doubt it. You can help me, matter a fact.” He stops beside me, his big hand thrusting into my hair and pulling my face to his. He whispers against my mouth, “Next time you fucking leave me, you fucking kiss me, whether you kick me in the nuts or not.”

  He ends on a growl and then takes my mouth, completely consuming me, Holy shit, am I glad he’s strong or I’d dump my bike right now and with a kiss this mean I can’t promise I would even regret it.

  Clawing at his chest, I fight myself from pulling his clothes off right here on the side of the highway. God, do I want to, but if this is going to happen, it won’t be a quick fuck on the side of the road that he’d easily forget on the ride home. If there comes a time where it’s my turn to be in his bed, I won’t be another one so easily brushed off like the hordes of club girls that were at the party last night.

  With a gasp, I pull away, dazed as I stare into his eyes brewing with a new storm, this time not with anger, but raw need.

  “I have to go.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I have to go home and get ready for work.” It’s a bold-faced lie, and, with the look he flashes me, he knows it too. Instead of calling me out on it, he nods shortly, and steps back. He gives my thigh one last strong squeeze before he heads back to his Harley.

  I pop my helmet back on, kick my stand up, and get back on the road as quickly as possible. I have to be fast; I don’t trust myself to not turn around and follow him if I don’t get as far away as possible.

  I need to be honest with myself; I’d wanted him even back in high school. He was a completely different person and way out of my league, but no matter when, I’ve always felt drawn to him. He’s turned into a bad boy now and I don’t know if I can handle the heartache he’s sure to bring if I decide to give in to his suggestions.

  Inhaling deeply, I hit the blue tooth button for my helmet and AC/DC ‘Thunderstruck’ blares through the built-in speakers. Good tunes for the easy ride home.

  I eventually make it back to my tiny house and taking up space in my driveway, is my douche bag ex’s jacked-up Chevy. Ugh, for fuck’s sake, what does he want?

  His bulky frame hops off the porch steps when I climb off my bike.

  “Lids.”

  “Damn it, Bobby, don’t call me that.”

  He grunts, looking sheepish. “Sorry, Lydia. I’m just used to it; that’s been my name for you since before we got together.”

  “Yeah and we’ve been broken up for six months now. I didn’t like it then and I still don’t.”

  “Sorry.” He looks me over. I see it the minute it clicks in his head that I’m in another man’s clothes.

  He huffs angrily, “You already fucking somebody new?”

  “We’ve been broken up for six months! Go home, Bobby.”

  “Why don’t you let me take you out on a date, just one last try?”

  “No. Go home. I’m tired and need to sleep.”

  “All right, you sleep and we’ll talk about this later.”

  “No we won’t talk about it. Ever. Good-bye.”

  I stomp up my porch steps as he angrily slams his truck door. His speakers vibrate the windows once he turns on the truck and all I can do is shake my head. I don’t know what I ever saw in him in the first place; he’s like a giant dumbass.

  Our relationship lasted for two of the most boring months of my life, and since we broke up, he’s been back once a week asking me to try again with him. No matter how many chances I could give him, he would never be what I want. It’s not fair to let him hold out any hope, but yet he still comes back like a lost puppy.

  Heaven appears in the form of my old comfy bed and I don’t hesitate making my way to it. I don’t even stop to waste time changing. I leave Snake’s clothes on, because, let’s face it, that kiss was fucking scorching and I want to dream of that naked body I saw earlier.

  My head hits the pillow and I’m out.

  A month passes without seeing Snake. Not that he isn’t on my mind, ’cause he has been a lot. I’ve just been busy with work. My father runs his own mechanic and parts shop that I help with almost daily. He came down with pneumonia a few weeks ago so I’ve taken over all of his work so he can rest and get better.

  I do the payroll, inventory, order customers parts when requested, and occasionally, I even work on a bike if they need the extra help. I’m a certified mechanic, but I also hold an associate degree in business. I’m not super smart like my friend London, but my dad likes to say I’m a jack-of-all-trades because I’m kind of good at a bunch of different things. With my brother being gone and me being quite the tomboy, my dad and I have gotten really close since we share the same passion.

  I love being able to work with my father; he’s a wonderful man and we have a great relationship. Around the shop he acts more like a buddy than my father. It’s nice that he doesn’t baby me or treat me differently than the guys that work there. They seem to respect me and I have a feeling that’s probably why.

  Today I’m meeting London for lunch and I’m excited to have a little break, even if it’s only for an hour or two. I park my bike close to the curb in front of the small diner. I hate parking off a main road; I’m always scared someone will hit my bike or something.

  I get through the front door and I’m enclosed in a big hug from London. She’s always been a touchy-feely person.

  “Hey, chickadee!”

  “Hi!” I squeak out through her tight hold.

  We take our seats and she immediately starts in, “So have you talked to Snake?”

  “You don’t waste time, huh?”

  “Nah, it’s pointless.” She shrugs and I laugh at her bluntness.

  “I’ve gotten an increase of calls from him about bike parts the club needs. I thought he was screwing with me but he said that since its winter, the brothers want to update their bikes now.”

  “Yeah, that’s actually true. Did you see he got patched?”

  “No, I was on a parts pickup out of town when he stopped by the store, so I haven’t actually seen him since the Christmas party.”

  “Damn, that’s been forever already! He’s suggested that I bring you by the club, but I told him about your dad being sick and how you’re taking care of the business for him right now. He said he got it and hasn’t said anything else. I can’t believe he didn’t mention to you on the phone that he’s a full member now; he won’t shut up about it at the clubhouse.”

  “That’s so cool! I wouldn’t stop talking about it either if it were me being patched!”

  We grow quiet as Bobby approaches the table; it’s been a few weeks since he last stopped by. One of the shitty things about living in a small town right next to a city is you see everyone all the time, with an occasional passerby on their way into the city.

  “Bobby?”

  “Hey Lids, London.” He nods and we both look at him expectantly. “Lids, I was wondering if you’d given thought to things, since I’ve given you some space.”

  “I tell you the same thing almost every week Bobby; this has to stop.”

  “You don’t mean that. I know your type; always playing hard to get. I’ll chase you until you give in.”

  “This isn’t a chase for fuck’s sake. I’ve tried being nice about it, but I really don’t know what else to say.”

  “Just agree and everything will go back to the way it was. I know you miss me.”
<
br />   “You’re in denial! I don’t even think of you!”

  I’m interrupted by London using her mom voice, “Bobby Mason, you should know better than to keep bothering Lydia. She’s with Snake now, and he won’t find it amusing you’re sniffing around his chick. You know he’s the President of the Oath Keepers MC’s son, right?” She cocks her eyebrow and I’m speechless. She’s lying through her teeth right now, but if it makes Bobby finally move on, then I’ll play along.

  His gaze shoots to me; hurt briefly flashing over his face. “You’re with him? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Sorry, Bobby,” I shrug, not confirming nor denying his questions.

  He huffs and stomps away in typical Bobby fashion. I don’t know why he’s angry at me; I’ve been telling him no for months!

  “Why did you say that? Snake will be pissed if he thinks I’m spreading rumors that we’re together!” I whisper yell.

  “Don’t worry chick, he’ll understand. I can’t believe you were with Bobby in the first place. That tool has panted over you for as long as I can remember.”

  “I was bored and trying out the relationship thing.”

  “Bullshit, you wanted the D.”

  I fail miserably in an effort to hold back my giggle and draw attention from a few old people sitting nearby.

  “We all like the D!” London says to the old lady and the wrinkly old bat’s eyes grow the size of saucers.

  “Shhh!”

  “Well they should mind their own damn business,” she smirks evilly.

  “Sumthin’ to drink?” A server stops by in a rush.

  “Yeah, sweet tea with lemon and I’ll take the club sandwich: no mayo, no mustard, no lettuce, no tomato and sub the Swiss for extra cheddar. Oh and I’ll have mashed potatoes and gravy as my side, extra gravy please.” She nods, used to me calling in the same order.

  “Well shit, mine’s easy. I’ll have a Dr. Pepper and the southwest turkey melt with macaroni and cheese.”

  “It’ll be right out.” The server takes off before we can utter out a thank you.

  “I meant to ask you before but completely forgot; you do know Snake is Brently, right? He used to play against our football and baseball teams in high school. I can’t remember his last name though. He was a really big prep back then.”