Chapter 1Rachel #2
“I can answer that question for you.” The Biker Boy speaks before I can respond.
“She asked me to carry a box full of books into a white van, then pushed me inside and closed the doors!” Biker Boy says in a high-pitched tone, as if he is offended by how easy it was to catch him.
You and I both, buddy; I wanted a challenge, and you failed to deliver.
“Seriously?” Noah screams again.
“Calm down, it’s not like I kidnapped anyone. He was easy to catch,” I argue.
“Catch? Catch?” Noah points at the very happy biker in front of us. “He is not a fucking Pokemon, Rachel!”
“Not to be that guy again, but I’m not that easy to catch,” Biker Boy says with a chuckle. “And you kind of did kidnap me.” I should have gagged him—why on earth didn’t I gag him?
“How did you even manage to get him onto the chair?” Noah’s voice has returned to its normal volume, and his questions now sound more like curiosity than anger.
That’s good. We’re moving in the right direction.
Snap out of the shock, buddy, and help me out.
Be the best friend I know you are. Help me deal with the guy I kidnapped like a best friend should.
Because are you truly best friends if you don’t help your bestie kidnap a guy?
My therapist should add delusional to the sheet of what’s wrong with me.
“I can answer part of that question.” Seriously? Can’t you just shut the fuck up? Biker Boy really seems to be having fun with the twenty-question game we are playing.
“She is a very bad driver; she drove like a maniac, and by turn number two, I banged my head against the side of the van and lost consciousness. When I woke up again, I was here.” He sighs dramatically, pretending to be the fucking victim.
Other men would pay for a woman like me to tie them up, but here he is, playing the role of the damsel in distress, complaining about being kidnapped.
Live the fantasy, man. Count your lucky stars that I was the one to catch you and not a serial killer, considering how easy it was.
I practically saved him. He should thank me!
Noah laughs, and when I say he laughs, I mean he laughs. Like a whole, rumbling, can’t-keep-himself-standing-straight laugh.
“Seriously, Noah?” I shoot him an angry look, but instead of stopping, his laughter grows louder, and now Biker Boy has joined him. They are both laughing as if this is the funniest situation they have ever experienced.
“Yeah, that tracks.” Noah finally speaks after his laughter has subsided.
“I am not that bad a driver,” I say, shame flashing on my face and making my cheeks bright red. It’s not my color, either.
“Yeah, you are. One time, she almost drove us off a cliff,” he says to the biker and starts laughing again. It takes a few moments before he tries to suppress his laughter as he prepares to ask his next question.
“That doesn’t explain how she got you tied up, though.”
“Actually, I have no idea how that happened,” Biker Boy admits. “When I woke up from my nap, I was already attached to this chair.” It could have been worse. I could have thrown you into a basement and lost the key.
“I can answer that for you.” I smirk and then turn to Noah to answer his question with pride. It’s an impressive achievement if you think about it. Sure, it can be considered a crime. Maybe. But it is still impressive.
“I asked Mr. Jones to help me carry him up the stairs and told him to put him on the bed. It was easy to drag him onto the chair and tie him up after that.”
“Mr. Jones? The paranoid neighbor who called the police on me for opening your door with my emergency key to water your plants when you went to Italy for two weeks? That Mr. Jones?” Noah shakes his head in confusion and adds another question to his monologue of desperation.
“And he didn’t ask why you wanted an unconscious man carried up the stairs?
” Noah frowns as his thoughts take a darker turn.
“Go figure—you can’t even trust the nosy neighbors anymore. ”
“I told him he’s my boyfriend and had too much to drink.
” I turn to Biker Boy. “He said you shouldn’t day-drink.
” I give him a toothy smile of pride because, if you think about it, that’s exactly how I feel.
I am proud of myself. Not only did I manage to catch a biker, but I also managed to get away with it and get him locked in my bedroom.
I am a fucking genius. My therapist would probably argue that the right word to describe me is delusional, but I think genius has a nice ring to it.
“I will make sure to thank him.” Biker Boy laughs at his own joke, and Noah joins him. But suddenly his face grows serious.
“Is there a reason he still wears the helmet?” he asks, and it’s a very logical question. To be honest, I didn’t think of taking it off him. I liked the mystery of him with the helmet on.
Noah approaches Biker Boy and removes his helmet, revealing his face underneath.
Blue strands of curly hair appear as the helmet comes off, followed by full lips and a jawline that could make even a saint sin.
My eyes follow the features of his face, his hair, the ink on his body.
It’s as if God, when He created him, decided to play bingo with his features to see how hot a guy can be.
For the record, this guy is reaching the maximum level of hotness without even trying.
And that’s without the dominant energy radiating from him, even when he’s joking.
And those eyes. Oh, God, those eyes. Those piercing blue eyes staring you down while he dicks you down should definitely be a bonus of having him around.
While I’m lost in my own fantasies, Noah looks like the blood has been drained out of him at the revelation of this guy’s appearance.
I’m ready to fall to my knees, call this guy Daddy, and beg for him to have his way with me, and my friend looks at me like I just committed the greatest crime of the century.
Relax, dude. I just caught a biker; half my feed on that specific app is full of “tutorials.” It’s not my fault one actually worked.
Not that I’ve tried other ones, but hypothetically, if I had, I could say that this was the one successful video I watched. Hypothetically.
I’ll admit that when I grabbed him, he already had his helmet on.
So, essentially, this is the first time I’m seeing what was hiding underneath.
Then again, I liked the mystery of his hidden identity.
Why mess with perfection, am I right? And I’m not disappointed, even though the fact that his identity was hidden was part of what drew me to him.
If I had known he looked like that, I would have taken his helmet off hours ago.
He has the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen, and his blue hair is an exact match.
And those luscious, inviting lips... God, how I wish Noah would fuck off right now so I can see what this guy can do with them.
I must have been staring a little too intensely, as his lips now curl into a smirk.
“Do you like what you see, Rachel?” He repeats the name he heard, and now I want to punch Noah for sharing my name.
Sure, Noah, share the name of the kidnapper with their victim.
It’s not like this guy can report me to the police or anything.
Have friends, they say; it’s fun, they say.
Until you have to explain to the prison therapist why your friend is the reason you’re there.
But when I turn to Noah, ready to say something about the colossal fuck-up he made by saying my name, I see him staring just as much.
Still pale as fuck and ready to faint, but I’m sure he’s thinking the same unholy things I am right now.
We've always had the same type, with a slight difference. I also like to pick the psychotic ones who will make my life a living hell. Noah prefers a more gentle approach to his love life, with nice dates and acts of kindness. He likes to be treated like a prince, worshiped like the royalty he is. I, on the other hand, prefer my man to be a little rough with me. I want to be chased in the woods, fucked in the dirt, and be called his dirty little slut, because in that moment, that’s exactly what I want to be.
I can be a princess and royalty all the other hours of the day, but when a man fucks me, I want to be degraded.
I want to feel things I didn’t know existed.
See God, or Satan. I’m not picky. Sadly, that hasn’t been the case with any of my exes, so here we are, kidnapping a biker in the hopes of experiencing my dark romance fantasies. Totally worth it.
“You couldn’t at least grab someone who didn’t look like a walking neon sign?
” He finally speaks, and I start laughing.
He does have a point; this guy is definitely easy to recognize.
From the blue hair to the ink peeking from his leather jacket, up his neck to his chin and down to his hands.
This guy is definitely one you wouldn’t forget.