“Who’s the dude?” I gesture back to Mr. Beer Pong.
“I don’t know,” she laughs, “but he’s kinda’ cute.”
“You could do better; he haspukerwritten all over him,” I argue.
“I’m not picky.” She shrugs and I keep my mouth shut, grabbing a beer from a bald guy manning the keg.
“Thanks,” I say, tipping my cup toward him slightly since he didn’t fill it to the top and have it spill everywhere. The guy obviously knows how to pour a beer.
“Anytime,” he smirks looking me up and down like I’m his next conquest.
Ugh, go polish your forehead, douche.
Bethany leads me back to the beer pong table so she can keep playing and the beat kicks up to one of my favorite songs by The Hills. The volume gets cranked even louder after a second in what should be the living room. The new song pouring through the oversized speakers draws my attention to the people dancing, and I spot the Prospect. He’s leaning against the living room wall, just watching them all.
Scratch’s giving me such an easy in right now, and he doesn’t even know it. Swaying my hips like I want to dance, I make my way over into his direct line of sight. My gaze hits his briefly, just enough to draw him to me, as I grind my hips seductively to the beat.
Like bees to honey, he’s on me in no time at all. Just like that, he’s already hooked; I know it. He pulls my waist into him, gripping my hips securely. Following my rhythm, he moves along with me at first, eventually taking over the lead.
My red solo cup gets crunched, and beer starts to spill over, so I take a few big gulps and attempt to concentrate on not spilling it down my chin as well, while we continue to dance. I’d appreciate it if I could get some sort of buzz established; it’d give me a boost of courage to do what I need to later.
I wasn’t the type who went out and fucked around in high school. I wouldn’t be labeled as a good girl per se, but I wasn’t a whore by any extent. College was different; I explored some and had a good time, but most of all, I learned what I liked. This situation, though, is slightly nerve racking. I’m planning to seduce Scratch when I don’t want him. Like at all.
As soon as the red cup leaves my lips, he reaches around and takes it from me. Before I can get turned around to protest, he finishes the liquid off and tosses the plastic cup toward an overfull trash can.
“I wanted more,” I state loudly and cock my eyebrow. Ineededit.
Grinning playfully, Scratch tugs my front into him, until our faces are so close that our noses are almost brushing together. He takes the lead again as our bodies gyrate against each other, and his leg pushes between mine. His firm palms cup my ass, applying enough pressure so that each time he moves, my pussy rubs against his thigh and gets a little wetter. We’re close enough that I can easily feel his cock hardening with each thrust.
“We can get more later,” he says watching my eyes and mouth each time he presses me against his thigh. Giving him the reaction he craves, I imagine riding the big biker’s thigh from the other night and part my lips letting a small, breathy moan escape, building up his ego.
Scratch’s fairly good-looking with his fuller lips, hazel eyes, and shaved short hair. By the dancing, he doesn’t appear to be in bad shape either. He’s slightly more on the thinner side than what I normally would be attracted to, but this isn’t about me finding a man and my preferences. It’s strictly based on my mission to fuck with my dad and his club.
Running my hands over his back, I pierce my nails into his shoulders coercing Scratch to me so he thinks that I can’t possibly get enough of him. He complies, feathering his lips over my neck, pressing wet kisses as he goes.
I need to clear my mind and get into it; I have to make this happen. I want to get it over with as soon as possible, so I’m going to make this nice and simple for him.
“Do you want to go somewhere with some privacy?” I suggest breathily next to his ear.
“Yeah, sugar, I’m cool with whatever.”
Bingo.
Thank God he has no idea who I am, because if so, he’d also know that my father would strangle him for kissing all over me like he is. Not having a good relationship with my dad doesn’t mean he wouldn’t teach his Prospect a lesson. It’d take a certain kind of man for the Prez not to scare the shit out of them.
Thinking about it, makes me giddy inside. It’s so fucked up, but I can’t stop feeling this way, knowing I’ll be one step closer to sleeping with a few of them. Then I’ll get to break it to my father that his club has benefitted me as well. I’ll finally get that small piece of satisfaction knowing I’ve hurt and disappointed my dad like he’s done to my poor mom for so long. In the end, she’ll be happier with him gone, and that’s all I want.
Payback’s a bitch, motherfucker.
“Great, let’s see if we can find a room or something.”
“Even better.” He nods, following me down Cooper’s narrow hallway until we find an empty bedroom. I should have brought a leash; it’s been that easy so far.
Once I’m over the threshold and pulling Scratch inside the room with me, I kick the door closed. Ready to make this real for him and get my head in the game, I begin kissing him passionately. Closing my eyes, I search for my happy place. I’ll be pushing it all to the back of my mind as soon as possible anyhow. I need to make this memorable for him. I want him to brag as much as possible, especially around the clubhouse. Then once it comes out to my dad, everyone will know about it already.
Scratch instantly reciprocates, his hands eagerly wandering all over my body. He rushes the entire process like he’s going to burst in his pants. I was expecting his hands to be callused since he’s a wannabe biker and all, but they’re soft.
Why does that seem so wrong to me? Have I ever noticed callused hands before? Maybe it’s because I would assume him being rough and tough, but I’m not even naked yet, and he’s not meeting my expectations.