Bound to the Bad Boy

Evernight
Publishing

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright©
2014 Molly Ann
Wishlade

 
ISBN: 978-1-77130-819-9

Cover
Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor:
JC
Chute

ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED

WARNING:
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is
illegal.
 
No part of this book may be
used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission,
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This
is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To my own bad boy.
May I
always be bound to
you.
xxx

BOUND TO THE BAD BOY

Molly Ann
Wishlade

Copyright © 2014

Chapter
One

The taxi driver pulled up outside
the dilapidated, timeworn high school and Megan took a shaky breath. Her
stomach churned and the palms of her hands felt clammy. She could be about to
make the biggest mistake of her life.

“You sure you’re going to a
party, Miss?” Megan met the ageing driver’s olive green eyes in the rearview
mirror.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you don’t look happy about
it. Kinda pale and agitated, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“I haven’t been back in a while.
I guess I’m a tiny bit nervous.” She held her thumb and finger a millimeter
apart and offered a smile.

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be a good
evening. Be nice to catch up with old friends.”

“Yes.” Megan clenched her teeth.
Old friends.

She paid the man and climbed out
of the cab, then walked on wobbly legs towards the large grey building. The
exterior had certainly seen better days, and was in dire need of a lick of
paint. The ancient windows were smudged, their broken panes covered with wooden
boards. The school was clearly struggling for funding. Just like the old days. A
pang of sadness pierced her, like grief for a childhood friend whose life had
not improved at all.

Megan neared the building, and everywhere
she looked, she could see
him
.
Out on the playing fields, on the basketball courts and on the lawns
outside the front of the school.
His presence was as solid as the wooden
picnic benches, bicycle stands and basketball hoops. It made her heart pound quickly
and her stomach flip.

It was ridiculous.
Unbelievable.
Far-fetched.

Get a grip.

She wasn’t a lovesick kid
anymore. At twenty-five, she was a grown woman. Or she should be. She just
wished her heart wasn’t thundering the way it used to in that long, hot summer
when she turned eighteen.

And for the following three years…

It seemed so long ago.

Heady, romantic, possessive, delicious young love…

The knot in her stomach
tightened.

Bruised lips… throbbing nipples… tender pussy.

She had been just a baby at the
start of their relationship, in spite of her insistence that she was all grown
up. She’d been so naïve, and yet so in love
.
Falling for him had been easy––perhaps too easy. Her feelings for him had
swallowed her whole and left her with little time or thought for anything else.
Her studies had seemed irrelevant, her ambitions had dimmed and she hadn’t
cared that her hippie parents had seemed even more distant and removed than
ever.

So it wasn’t surprising that losing
Matt had cut her deeply and left her scarred, despite it having been her own
doing. And it wasn’t something she ever intended going through again.

I wouldn’t survive it.

She neared the gymnasium doors
and took a deep breath, tottering on her stiletto heels.
Time
to do this.
Time to put all of her fears aside and to
prove that it was over.
It had been finished between them for years. It
was just puppy love…intense and passionate, but it had run its course and she
had moved on, as all sensible adults do.

As Megan walked through the colorful
streamers and balloons that adorned the entrance, she gripped her vermillion
clutch bag. It matched her strapless dress perfectly, right down to the sequin
detail at the hem. Though her bust strained against the satin, she had believed
that it was sexy, not slutty, because it fell to her stocking-clad knees. Her heels
were incredibly high, but she had wanted to make a statement. To be able to
look her old school mates in the eye. Not to have to peer up at them, as she
had as a teenager.

She straightened her back and
strode over to the welcome table.

“Well, hello there.” A sunny
blonde with a face caked in orange foundation grinned at her. “Please take a
sticker and write your name and your nickname on it, then go have fun catching
up.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“You look familiar…” The blonde
stared at her. “Were you in my year?”

“I…I don’t think so.” To Megan
the woman looked like all the others, the ones who had at best ignored her, and
at worst, tormented her with cruel words and spiteful pranks.

The blonde’s nametag read:
Lola May Williams -
‘
get jiggy’
.

Megan frowned as she scribbled
her own name on the sticky label and placed it above her left breast. The name
Lola May
didn’t ring any bells. But Megan
had been a quiet teenager and kept to herself, mostly to avoid confrontation. Plus,
she hadn’t enjoyed the fuss and the attention her peers craved from the
opposite sex. In fact, she hadn’t ‘got jiggy’ with anyone until Matt had
arrived in town, following the death of his mother.

Matt.

The name conjured images of a
dark haired, dark eyed youth with a serious air that made some of the other kids
snigger behind their hands. Not that he had cared. But Megan had liked how
different he was. When most kids were being immature idiots, Matt had been a
breath of fresh air. Tattooed before it was legal and riding a motorcycle like
a modern-day cowboy, Matt exuded an air of excitement in his dusty leathers. He
was almost two years older than Megan, but still in high school in order to
graduate. His groupie mother had moved around so much that he’d missed a lot of
school, so he had to make up the time.

Matt had set her teenage pulse
racing and awakened her wild side. He had brought her out of her shell, lifted
her from her self-imposed isolation and helped her to blossom as she made the
transformation from girl to woman. Then he had taken her virginity, just before
her eighteenth birthday. The memory of that intense, emotional experience still
brought heat to her cheeks and a wonderful tingling to her whole body.

He had been a gifted and
experienced lover, having learnt so much during his travels with his wayward
mother. He had told Megan how his mother had often left him to his own devices
and he’d gotten involved with an older crowd, with women keen to initiate a
young man into the pleasures of the flesh. But he didn’t frown at Megan’s
inexperience or at her shyness. Instead, he channeled his own knowledge into a
fountain of tenderness that brought Megan to the edge of ecstasy repeatedly.

The handsome, young biker had taught
Megan how to overcome her awkwardness about her body, especially her large
breasts, slightly wonky teeth and wavy, ginger hair. She had always been teased
about these physical attributes and the bullying had made her want to hide away.
To become invisible.
To cease to
exist.
But Matt had worshipped and adored her so ardently, that Megan
had soon been able to turn her own self-loathing into self-acceptance.
And on the really good days, into appreciation.

Exquisite,
he had called her. With bountiful breasts, cute teeth
and attractive Titian waves.

The thought made her tingle all
over. How he had worshipped her breasts, repeatedly covering them with hot
kisses and cradling them in his large, firm hands. Holding them from the front,
from behind, even from below when she had ridden him like a cowgirl. And later,
when things had progressed between them, he had shown her more things, taught
her more…like how the use of nipple clamps could intensify her orgasmic
delight.

He knew so many things for one so young.

She shivered. It had been a long
time since she had allowed herself to remember Matt. Not just think about him.
Really
remember
him. The old haze of
desire swirled around her, dangerously cloudy, threatening to fog up her mind
like it once had. She could see clearly now, though. The fog had lifted when
she’d managed to sever all ties with him. True, it had been replaced with a
void as black and cold as an abandoned mineshaft. But if he got hold of her
again, she didn’t know how she’d cope.

And it hadn’t just been his good
looks and skills in the bedroom that had won her over. He was funny,
intelligent and affectionate. He wasn’t like other high school boys, who
focused on impressing their friends and constantly competing in one arena or
another. He was his own man, loyal to his motorcycle club, yet devoted to
Megan. He didn’t feel the need to brag about his conquests to try to establish
some form of masculine dominance, in an effort to become the teenaged alpha
male. He had no need of all that.
Because he
was
an alpha male.
In charge.
In control.
A natural leader.

Yet he had ‘bad boy’ status. He
had gained the unpalatable reputation because of the charter he rode with, and
because of the local law force’s abhorrence of that club. When Matt had arrived
in town as a younger member––already shifting from prospect to full-fledged
Night Warrior––he had become their latest target. It was as if the police had
decided to try to prevent his transformation, but they had failed.
Harassment.
Fake charges.
Petty set-ups.
They all fell from Matt’s broadening
shoulders, like water from a duck’s back. He did not care what they thought of
him, what they did to him or what they said about him. He was well read and he
knew the law inside out. Better than many a high court judge, Megan had
believed. Perhaps naively, but it was true that Matt did know what the police
could and couldn’t do and how to warn them off.

Before they knew it…before they
could stop it…Matt had risen through the Night Warrior ranks like bubbles to
the surface of a glass of champagne and become the Vice Chairman to his
biological father’s Chairman. Megan knew that it wasn’t nepotism that took him
there but integrity, intellect and fearlessness. If Matt hadn’t been a biker,
he could have been a lawyer or a politician. But riding was in his blood and he
was a free soul. She knew that it would break him to be caged to a desk,
confined by the law rather than manipulating it for his own ends and that of
his club.

Stop it…stop. Not again. Oh…Matt…

Once, twice…bound to a bad boy,
did not a good girl make... And Megan didn’t want to get all muddled up again.
She had always wanted to be a good girl.
To please.
To succeed in life.
To have some praise and adoration from
her parents who barely seemed aware that she existed most of the time. Being a
good girl hadn’t brought her up on their radar, but neither had dating Matt, so
she had long ago accepted that she would never have their approval or even
their disapproval. They just didn’t care enough either way. The decision to abandon
Matt had been her own, about herself and what she believed she desired above
all else: to lead a
normal
life.

Besides, being with Matt again
could only lead to heartbreak and a turbulent future. And she had to take care
of herself. Matt was tainted. Not good husband or father material. He had gone
off the rails, even been sentenced to time in jail. For a crime he claimed he
hadn’t committed, maybe. A crime he’d begged her to believe he wasn’t capable
of. But she had wanted to believe that he was guilty.