Chapter 5
MARTINA
Diesel easily stands with me in his arms. The flexing of his biceps and even his forearms makes gathering me against his rock-hard chest an effortless task. His strength and bulk couldn’t be compared to normal humans.
A burst from the air-conditioner hits my mostly bare skin, and I shiver. He gathers me closer, nuzzles my neck, and the chill is replaced by a burning heat. He maneuvers us around other couples in various stages of undress and sexual positions until we get to the back hallway.
“I can walk, you know.”
“Babe, I bench-press more than you.” He pushes through a metal door and up a flight of stairs. “Shit, I could probably lift you over my head with one hand.”
His joking words filter through my tequila-induced bravado and translate to a whole different meaning. The last time I let my fearless nature guide me, I ended up in a cargo van headed south of the border.
He stops in front of a door and eases me to my feet, his undone belt at eye level while he digs his hand in his pocket and comes up with a key.
In one flick of this man’s wrist, I would be on the floor, and if he really wanted to hurt me, he wouldn’t even have to break a sweat. Nor would anyone come to my aid. This is his room, in his clubhouse, with his brothers. Most of whom are fucking their brains out right now or too drunk to care.
I shuffle backwards, and the beautiful tequila euphoria sours, transforming itself into a clawing paranoia. The Bohemian freedom I experienced downstairs evaporates into cold, hard facts.
I’m standing mostly naked outside the room of a man I don’t know, alone, in a strange city. A huge, muscular man, who, no matter how hot and desirable, calls himself Diesel and belongs to an outlaw biker club with a fearsome reputation in a city with no rules. Not good, not good at all.
My arms instinctively wind around my mid-section as I shoot a look over my shoulder. The door to the stairwell is about eight feet away.
“Shit!” Diesel braces his palm against the door as he fumbles with the key in the lock. “Too many fuckin’ shots.”
Make that a drunk outlaw biker who won’t want to hear the word “no.”
It’s now or never, so I draw in a breath, spin around and dash for the stairway. I push down the latch, shove through the metal door, and when I grab the railing, an arm swoops around my waist, lifting me off my feet.
“What’re you doin’?” Diesel’s rough voice and hot breath scorch my ear.
I tuck my chin and shoot my hips into his groin. When he grunts, I break free of his hold and jab my right elbow into the side of his face, then spin around on the balls of my feet.
Diesel rubs at his reddening jaw. “What the fuck was that?”
I hold my hands out in front of me. “Just let me leave.”
“Babe, I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking, but—”
“I’m thinking I’ve made a mistake. I’m sorry. So, just let me leave.”
“And go where?”
Right, I didn’t have a place to go, but he didn’t know that. “Away from here.”
He waves his hand over me. “Like that? On these streets? You won’t make it to the corner. Shit, you probably won’t make it to the front door before some drunk asshole from downstairs falls on top of you.”
“I have my clothes in the dressing room.”
“The dressing rooms are all locked up for the night, and Ricky already left with the key.”
Shit, hadn’t figured on that either. Another one of my plans that has no chance of succeeding.
“And where the fuck did you learn to do all that?” He rubs his jaw again. “You fuckin’ clocked me.”
“Seventeen years of martial arts, starting when I was five.”
“Shit, you’re only twenty-two?”
“That’s your takeaway after I almost knock you out?”
He huffs out a laugh. “First of all, you didn’t almost knock me out.”
“I got out of your hold though.”
“You also caught me by surprise.”
“Isn’t that the point of self-defense? One of the first teachings is to be ready at all times.”
“True, but since you’ve been grinding up against my hard dick half-naked for the last hour, and just came all over my hand, I kinda thought this was goin’ in a different direction.” Diesel cracks his neck from side to side. “I sure wasn’t expecting to get elbowed in the face.”
I eye the staircase a few feet behind me.
“Look, babe, I don’t know what the fuck got in your head, but I’m not gonna hurt you or do anything you don’t wanna do.
I gotta admit, you got my cock all worked up.
” He motions to his bulge. “And he’ll probably never forgive me, but I’m not some desperate perv who has to take women against their will.
What I am is too boozed up to take you home, so I guess you got two choices.
You can go back downstairs and take your chances ‘cause I can’t vouch for all the guys at this party tonight, or you can come back to my room. ”
“And if I come back to your room?” The earlier adrenaline seeps out of my body, and I shiver.
“I’ve got clothes you can put on and a very nice leather couch that you’re more than welcome to sack out on till morning. I’d offer you my bed, but I don’t feel like getting elbowed on the other side of my face.”
I consider my choices, which amount to slim and none. I nod because I can’t bring myself to admit he’s right. Childish probably, but I have to grab on to some scrap of dignity.
He pushes open the metal door, and I follow him back to his apartment. He waves me in, and I look around.
Polished wood floors, a large leather couch on a matching area rug, and a coffee table. I’m not surprised by the huge flatscreen TV hanging on the opposite wall, but the overall cleanliness and newness of the furniture intrigues me.
“This is nice.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.” Diesel disappears into the kitchen off the main room and returns with two bottles of water, uncaps them and hands me one.
“No, no, I’m not.”
He tips the bottle to his lips, and I’m entranced as his tan, tatted throat gulps down half the water. “Yeah, you are, but that’s okay.”
When he said outlaw biker earlier, I pictured photos of naked women plastered on the walls, duffel bags full of illegal money, and a loop of porn on the big screen TV. Big surprise, Hollywood doesn’t always get it right.
I wrap my arms around myself. “You said you have something I can put on.”
“Sure.” He finishes off the water, then heads down a short hallway to another room, presumedly his bedroom.
He returns a few minutes later with a t-shirt and sweat shorts. I slip the soft Harley t-shirt over my head, and it hits my knees. Then I strategically remove the bikini top and the G-string before putting on the shorts that I have to roll many times.
He motions to the couch, and we both sit a few feet away from each other. Odd how the mood changed from full-on groping and grinding to almost a chaste, platonic atmosphere.
Safer, for sure, even if I can’t keep my eyes off the way he moves around the room—almost graceful for such a large man.
He digs his hand in his jeans pocket, pulls out my money, and hands it to me.
“Thanks.” I’m surprised again at his honesty, but like he said earlier, he doesn’t need my money. Definitely true with the crowd of people that must flood The Tropics every night, along with their other nefarious deals.
So many contradictions in this man. The neck tattoo that continues to his tan tatted chest, the heavy silver rings on four of his fingers, frayed jeans and heavy engineer boots scream bad boy biker.
The easy, almost gentle way he carried me up the stairs.
Then his assuring words belied a gentler side I’m sure he keeps hidden.
The man is an paradox, making him much more than just a rough outlaw biker, and, God help me, but I want to find out exactly what makes this man tick.
DIESEL
I settle onto the couch and smile when she cautiously changes her clothes without showing me anything. Like she forgot I saw her almost buck-ass naked on stage, and then had her grinding over my dick while I fingered her into an orgasm.
“I guess it all makes sense.” I narrow my eyes. “Your moves on stage and your self-defense mode in the hallway before say cage fighter.”
“I’m not a fighter.”
“You didn’t hesitate before; you just reacted, like you’ve been doing it professionally.”
“My mother signed me up for jiu-jitsu when I was young so I could channel my energy. I was one of those kids who couldn’t sit still at home or in school. When I got older, I began competing with other clubs. Not actual fighting in a ring or a cage. We competed for points.”
I eyeball her. “How’d you do?”
“Don’t let my slight appearance fool you. I can take down women twice my size.”
“How about guys?”
“Yeah, them too, but I do it in a different way.”
“She’s got jokes.”
She smiles, and again I notice her innocence. “I run the gym and a fight club for the Royal Bastards along with my other brother, Blood.”
“Nice.”
“You ever think about doin’ it professionally?”
“No. It’s always been like a hobby, and a way to stay in shape, like people who take Pilates or yoga.” She sips her water, then grins. “I got a few solid shots in on you though.”
“Right, on a guy half in the bag with a raging hard-on. You wouldn’t get close to me in the cage.”
She squares her shoulders, and my t-shirt gaps in the front. “That sounds like a challenge.”
“A few months ago, we started taking women on at the fight club. Huge fuckin’ moneymaker. Or would you rather stick to the stripping?”
“The fight club definitely sounds interesting.”
“You got real talent on stage, babe, but I’m guessing you’d also be fire in the cage.”
“If you’re looking for more women fighters, I’d be interested.”
“Always, if you’re good. We run our club to make money. You win, we make money, and so do you.”
“A percentage?”
“A fair percentage. Maxie, Blood’s woman, trains the women.”
“Interesting.”
“I’ll take you over there tomorrow and hook you up with her. If Maxie likes your moves and thinks you’ve got potential, she’ll set you up with a room upstairs.”
Then I’ll know exactly where you are, and when the time is right, we’ll get back to what we started.
“Thanks.” She shifts on the couch, and I zero in on her long, tan legs peeking out of my shorts.
Not good, so I push off the couch before I reach over and stroke those beautiful thighs.
Anything to quiet the dirty thoughts slithering through my brain, especially since I just told her she was safe here.
“I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket.” I head for the bedroom before all my promises end up with me throwing her over my shoulder, dropping her on my bed, and getting deep in her body till morning.
I return and lay an extra pillow and a blanket on the couch. “I’m beat.”
She motions to the couch. “Thanks for this.”
“No problem.” My cock picked that time to give an angry twitch.
“Ohhh, and happy birthday.”
“Technically, my birthday’s over, but thanks.” Then I spin around and head for my bedroom alone.
I strip off my clothes, then concentrate on pulling down the bedsheets and brushing my teeth. Typical shit I do every damn night, except tonight, I got a hotter-than-hell woman in my living room who I basically promised I wouldn’t touch.
Fucked-up, even for me.
I eye the shower, and, yeah, a cold shower is what I need, but since I hate cold water, I’d make it a lukewarm shower, then jerk myself off. If I didn’t, I’d never get to sleep.