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I felt his hardness lifted the front of his t-shirt and slid my hand down the front of his jeans. When I wrapped my fingers around his thick hard cock, I smiled, and I stared into his eyes full of lust.
"I've wanted to know how your cock felt in my hands since the day I met you, Billy Cooper."
"I let you go that rainy night fifteen years ago when I left to join the Corps," he said. "Now you walk back into my life, but I'm not letting you go this time."
He bent and lifted me into his arms, then laid me down on one of the couches. Our tongues tangled and tasted as he moved to lay between my legs.
His hand glided up my thigh and then under my dress to cup my wet panties. My pussy was hungry for his touch, and I cried out when two of his thick fingers delved into my slick opening.
"Fuck," Wrecker growled, "You're so ready for me."
Then we heard three hard knocks on the door.
Wrecker broke our kiss, trying to catch his breath, then hollard, "What!"
"It's Bagger. I got the Prez on the phone. He wants to talk to you." A man said outside the locked door.
The knock at the door felt like a bucket of ice-cold water, interrupting our moment of heated passion. Wrecker had to catch his breath before he climbed off me and left the room for a few minutes to take the phone call.
I sat on the couch and giggled as I looked around the VIP room, thinking that we almost fucked right on that couch if we weren't interrupted!
After a few moments, Wrecker returned to the room and knelt before me. He spread my thighs apart, scooted in, and leaned in to kiss me.
"Sorry, but I had to take the call since it was my Prez. You remember my best friend, Hendrix Stone, from high school?"
"Yeah! What has he been up to all these years?"
"He's the President of my club. Everyone calls him Heavy now." He said, then tilted my chin to the side. "Your cheek has an abrasion from that asshole who hit you. And I'm such a dick for dragging you in here and forcing you to fuck me."
I combed my hands into his hair and laughed, "I'm okay, and you didn't drag or force me to do anything I didn't want to do. It's a good thing we stopped when we did, though, because I want our first time together to be special and not in a VIP room at a strip club."
It was 1 am and the last call at the strip club, so Wrecker wanted to take me home. But there was no way I could ride on the back of his motorcycle that was parked alongside other motorcycles outside. So, he borrowed the keys to someone's truck. After we climbed in, he took off his vest, telling me that club members never wear their cut when driving in a cage, meaning a vehicle, which was something new I learned. And I wanted to know so much more about Billy's life and how he became a member of the Reaper Bastards MC.
He pulled up to the front of my tiny house in a quiet neighborhood built during the nineteen-fifties, located on the Northern Virginia side of the Potomac River.
Wrecker said he only used burner phones, so I gave him my phone number, and then he walked me to my front door like a gentleman.
Before I went inside, Wrecker pulled me into his arms and kissed me softly.
"We have a lot of catching up to do, Elle," he said and promised to call me tomorrow night."
CHAPTER 6
ELLE
"The thing is - fear can't hurt you any more than a dream. Should I keep reading, Miss Hensley? Are you okay?" My fifteen-year-old student, Brayden Collier, said, snapping me back to the present.
He arched a brow, staring at me as I blinked a few times. I sat with Brayden in a small office in a townhome in Georgetown. It was just one of several homes Brayden's parents, David Michael Collier and Patricia Collier, owned and stayed periodically throughout the year.
I was daydreaming about the night before in the VIP room with Wrecker.
His lips, strong hands, and muscular arms were covered in tattoos.
His beard was rough on my skin, his fingers inside my pussy.
"Uh, yes, Brayden. Please read on." I replied as I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. I enjoyed listening to Brayden read the book to me, but my mouth was dry, and my head pounded from the heavy drinking the night before. I knew I shouldn't have mixed the wine from the high school reunion with the mojitos at the strip club and was regretting it that morning. I also checked my phone every ten minutes, waiting for a Wrecker to call me on a burner phone with a DC area code of 2-0-2.
I'd given Brayden an assignment to read the book "Lord of the Flies" by William Golding a few weeks before and then discuss the story's theme and symbolism.
