MC ROMANCE: Wanted by the Alpha Biker (Motorcycle Club Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (MC Romantic Suspense Contemporary New Adult Short Stories) (57 page)

Chapter Six

Thirty minutes later, Anita found herself standing in Boris’s living room. His house looked a little upturned, with boxes stacked up the wall and piles of things just sitting around in the corners. “Are you planning on moving?” she called.

“No!” she heard him yell from the kitchen. “I just moved in,” he added as he emerged from the short hallway, carrying two wine glasses.

She nodded slowly. “Right…” As she took her glass of wine out of his hand, she couldn’t help but feel at least a little bit nervous about this whole situation. She had done this in the past of course, but not since her engagement broke off and… Well, she was a little rusty.

He placed a hand on her cheek. “Your skin is radiant.”

Anita could feel the blood rushing to her face at the compliment. “Thank you.” But those words barely got out of her mouth before he kissed her. It was like scratching an itch, satisfying a craving, sending her in overdrive. He broke it off if only to take the wine glass out of her hand and place it safely on the coffee table. With that settled, he sat on the couch, dragging her down with him. She mounted him, sitting on his lap with her legs wrapped around his torso. His lips practically attacked hers, his tongue pressing into her mouth with a determination that only made her want him more.

She clutched his back, her fingertips pressing into his muscles, her nails scratching at his skin. A grunt slipped out of his mouth as he slid his hands around her chest, his fingers tracing the sides of her breasts, wandering leisurely until they got to the hook of her bra. He deftly opened it, and Anita sighed as the constricting piece of clothing loosened. His lips found their way to her neck, sucking on her skin. Through all of this, she could feel his teeth brushing against her.

She slipped her fingers under the hem of his shirt, peeling it off and discarding it behind him. Her eyes went wide at the sight of his washboard chest, the skin providing a beautiful cover for his muscular body. She ran her finger over every curve and ridge, the warmth between her legs growing more and more intense.

As she did this, he finally unbuttoned her cocktail dress and as it slid down to her waist, she wasted no time letting her bra slide down with it.

He raised an eyebrow at the sight of her breasts, the nipples pointing right at him. “These are magnificent,” he murmured as his lips folded into a crooked smile.

Anita giggled, taking his head in her hands and guiding it towards them. He grasped them with his hands, his little massage driving Anita into a frenzy. She wanted him,
needed
him, right then and there, and the fact that he had just begun licking her nipples only intensified her desire. “That feels sooo good,” she whispered as he continued to suck on her breasts.

In one lithe movement, she climbed off him and proceeded to unbutton his pants. He helped her with it, deftly peeling them off. When she stood up to watch him slip off his boxers, her dress fell down to her ankles. She was naked except for her panties, but oddly enough she didn’t feel the least bit exposed.

Boris eyed her up and down, licking his lips. The glow of desire in his eyes was enough to make her climax right then and there. He beckoned for her, his arm lazily outstretched.

She took his hand and mounted him once again. He was about guide her on top of him, but she stopped him. “Condom?”

“Oh…” He hastily nodded as he reached over her to his discarded pants, rummaging through the pockets until he retrieved a golden magnum packet.

She raised an eyebrow at this. She had never been with a man who needed condoms that big.

It excited her.

In the next moment, he had slipped it on, and then her on right after. A slow, ecstatic breath slipped out from between her lips as she felt herself accommodate him. She could feel her sex shuddering with him inside of it. Anita bit her lip, her breasts bobbing up and down with her movements.

He turned his head up towards hers, so she leaned down and kissed him, their mouths sloppily slapping together in all of the moving. He took her butt in his hands, clutching her and smacking at her flesh with his hands.

“Oh God, I’m gonna come!”

Her eyes went wide, for she felt as if she had only just begun. Her lips folded into a frown as he continued to thrust up against her, until his thrusts got faster and harder, until a dramatic grunt flew out of his mouth and he violently shuddered. He then went limp beneath her.

She let out the obligatory sigh of fake satisfaction before climbing off of him. “Okay, well, that was fun,” she muttered as she immediately began to put on her clothes.

He stood up and made his way to the bathroom, she assumed to clean himself up. While he was gone, she finished dressing and stood around awkwardly, waiting for him to come back so that she could take it upon herself to leave. As she stood there, she heard subdued screaming coming from outside. With a furrowed brow, she made her way to the window and looked out.

Boris lived on a somewhat quiet street, but as she peered out of the window, she could just spot some light coming from around the bend

“I’m not sure you’ll be safe going home tonight… What with the riots and all,” Boris said as he entered the room.

Anita turned to face him. “Oh, I think I’ll be fine,” she replied. The last thing she wanted was to spend a semi-sober night with the complete stranger that was supposed to be a confidence boost at best, as childish as that sounded.

He narrowed his eyes at her, disbelief etched across his features. “There could be looting…”

Anita scoffed as she reached for her jacket. “Trust me, I have seen many a protests here in DC. You might have just moved here, but you will quickly find that this is just a fact of life.” She felt much more secure and ready for the world with her outerwear on.

Boris nodded as he crossed the room to meet her. “Well, I guess this is goodbye?” he asked, holding his arms open for a hug.

Anita gulped, but went in for it anyway. He planted a kiss on her cheek that made her almost certain that the next thing to come out of his mouth would be,

“So, can I have your number?”

Anita gave him a tight smile, and the prepared answer set to ward off potentially distracting relationships followed. “I work at the White House. I promise you, if you call there, you’ll find me.”

Boris nodded slowly.

As Anita turned to leave him forever, she wondered if she’d miss him in the light of day. Once outside, the screaming and shouting got much louder. There was the sound of tires screeching on the asphalt, rocks and stakes being thrown at windows. She sucked in a deep breath, part of her wishing that she had not decided to go it alone, but a bigger part of her determined not to go back, so she sucked in a deep breath and kept going, her stint with Boris making her more certain than ever to that she had completely cleared her head of her Bruce obsession. She would focus on her UN resolution and the riots. She was Anita Rhodes, and it would take a billion Bruces to bring her down.

Epilogue

Anita was in the thick of things, surrounded with anger and fire. Everywhere she turned, there was another news van, another cameraman, another reporter fearlessly screaming into their microphones. As she turned another corner, she found herself on the police-side of a blockade. Bodies were pressed together. She pushed past shoulders and arms, muttering her “excuse me’s” until she reached the barrier.

“Ma’am.” She turned to find a police officer staring down with a stern expression on his face.

“I just need to get home,” she began to button up her coat.

He shook his head. “Honey, I’m sure you don’t want to go to the other side.”

Anita turned to find a throng of people holding weapons and signs, screaming back at the police. She leaned, pushing herself past the bodies in front of her.

They were pointing guns at the people.

“What?” she breathed, her heart fluttering with equal parts of wonder and fear.

“I cannot let you go this way.”

Anita narrowed her eyes at him. “You will let me through. And you will not shoot at civilians!” she yelled. Her whole body shaking with anger. While she had been banging her head on overly priced furniture constructing an international deal, a civil war was happening right under her nose.

The police officer shook his head. “I—”

But before they could continue, she shoved through the line of police, sprinting across no man’s land. The next morning she would hear of this on the news. She would call a meeting with Victoria and demand the chance to make a statement. The next morning, she would fix it.

Just as she reached the other people, who immediately stepped aside to let her through, someone yelled, “Fuck the police!”

Anita skidded to a stop, then turned to see who had done this, her curiosity ruling the night. She only had time to let out half a breath before a block of wood slipped out of someone’s hands and flew across the barrier.

The night erupted with shots and screaming. The protesters continued to shout there chants, but their signs were getting pelted with bullets. She dodged bricks and wood, her heels catching on debris, her body lurching forward with constant tripping. But soon enough, she could see the crowd thinning out. A smile of relief played on her lips as she realized that the worst was practically over.

Then she felt someone grab her wrist. She turned with her fist clenched. “Get the fuck off!” she yelled.

The man, whose face was covered in blood, glared down at her with dark eyes. “Stay and fight!”

Anita bit her lip, punching him hard in the gut, and kept running. Through the night, she could see a figure coming towards her, a silhouette she would recognize anywhere. “Bruce,” she whispered.

Then she felt something hard hit her in the small of her back. She stumbled to a stop, the pain taking her breath away.

“Who do you think you are?”

It was the same man. His bloodshot eyes made it obvious he was strung-out, overly excited. He held a knife in his right hand.

Her heart fluttered in her chest. She was nowhere near skilled enough to fight someone with a knife who was twice her size.

“Let it go.” Bruce’s authoritative voice cut through the noise.

The man sneered at the both of them.

“I’m warning you,” he said in a dark voice, wrapping his arm around her waist.

The man lunged at them, swinging his knife.

In one deft movement, Bruce shoved Anita behind him and bared his teeth at the man, an inhuman roar erupting from him.

Anita could feel it rattling her bones.

Before he had even finished, the man ran away.

Bruce turned to face her. “What the hell are you doing out in this?”

Anita threw her hands up in exasperation. “I could ask you the same thing!”

His chest rose as he sucked in a deep breath. “Visiting a friend,” he said tersely as he grasped her arm kept walking in the direction he had come.

“That wasn’t human,” 

He shook his head. “Now is not the time.”

Anita stopped in the middle of the street, crossing her arms. Even though they had travelled considerably far away from the center of the trouble, the air was still alight with the aura of chaos. “Look, I don’t know what secret you have… But I want to keep it. You can trust me.”

Bruce chuckled, drawing her in for a kiss. “I know. I’m counting on it.”

Although he didn’t divulge anything else, she had a feeling things were changing… Hopefully for the better.

End of Part 2.

Book 3: An Act of War

Book 3: An Act of War

Prologue

Bruce slammed his fist against the house he had trekked through protests and unrest to get to. The aging wood of the door seemed to Bruce, in the dim morning light, like it could crumble at any moment. The protests and rioting had reached their zenith right when he returned Anita to her home, so when he circled back around, it seemed to have died down. There were lines of men and women talking into their microphones and at their camera men, trying to get the most precise scoop of what had just happened. As he slipped in between the trucks and the people, he couldn’t help but feel relieved at the fact that no one seemed to notice him. His little stunt—invoking his tiger powers—could have exposed everything, but had seemed to go unnoticed. Soon, he would be getting on a plane to sell this resolution to the United Nations. He would be hundreds of miles away from all of this—away from Anita. The distance might clear his mind and silence the inexplicable pounding of his heart. At least, that’s what he had hoped.

So he continued to pound on the door until it was ripped cleanly away from his hand. Boris stood before him with his ruffled blonde hair and a dark, terry cloth robe draped over his frame. “Fancy that,” he said as he stepped aside, gesturing for Bruce to enter.

Bruce stalked over the threshold, his eyes sweeping the room, taking in the boxes, the piles of things: papers, files, clothes, kitchen stuff. He came to a stop in the center of the living room, crossing his arms defiantly. “What did they send you here for?”

Boris shut the door behind him, walking into the living room and taking a seat on his couch. “You.” He raised an eyebrow.

Bruce glowered at him. “Does he not trust me? Is there anything I have done that has worried him?” He couldn’t understand how, in the mere weeks that he had been on Earth, in the midst of only the first phase of the grander Plan, he could have upset the emperor this much.

“You’ve taken a lover.”

Bruce furrowed his brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He hadn’t mated with anyone since… Lexus. He cocked his head to the side. “Do you know your girlfriend stowed?”

Boris hardly responded, except for a tiny flinch Bruce would have missed if he didn’t know him so well. “How do you know this?”

Bruce’s heart fluttered in his chest. He was beginning to think that bringing Lexus up to Boris was a complete mistake. “She came to me.”

Boris leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees, his face slowly turning a crimson color of rage.

Bruce was beginning to feel distinctly as if he had let the bull out of its cage.

“You mean to tell me that she stowed on my craft, but then tracked
you
down?” His angry voice cut through the tense air.

Bruce could think of nothing else to do but to change the subject. “I don’t have a lover.” But it was as he said this that he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He stepped back to find a beret on the rug. He suddenly thought of Anita, but dismissed the image of her running through the dense crowd of dangerous people, her hair flying and her lipstick smudged, almost as soon as it came to mind. “But it seems that you have.”

Boris leaned back in the couch, stretching his hands out to either side of him, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Of course I have.”

“Who?”

Boris shrugged. “She’s stunning, tall, smart. She’s got this kind of dusty blonde hair, and… those eyes.”

Anita. “What?”

“Any eye for an eye—”

Bruce crossed the rug in two long strides, clenched his right hand into a fist, and then drove it into Boris’s face.

Boris let out a yelp of pain, doubling so far over that his head landed in-between his knees. When he finally looked up, Bruce saw the blood spilling from the wound on his right cheek. Boris pressed his tongue through it from the inside of his mouth, flexing his jaw. “And you don’t have a lover?”

“She’s not my lover. But she also isn’t pawn for your petty revenge scheme.” But as Bruce said this, his body trembled with anger. The mere thought that Boris, or anyone, had laid a hand on her… The image of her delicate fingers running through his barbaric, blonde hair…

He squinted his eyes as he threw yet another punch, but Boris caught it in the air.

“She isn’t worth your anger. None of them are.”

Bruce ripped his wrist away from Boris’s hand, immediately driving a hook into his gut with his opposite hand.

Boris grunted, then grabbed his shoulders with both hands, shoving his knee into his torso.

Bruce staggered backwards, his head ringing from the pain.

But Boris followed after him. “You have a job to do…An allegiance to your own kind.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that.”

“Anita isn’t even worth being used as a pawn.”

Those words cut Bruce, but just as he tried to shove Boris, the man wrapped his hands around his neck in a chokehold so strong, it lifted him off the ground. “I am your handler, and it is my responsibility to make sure that you carry this out.”

Bruce could hardly breathe. The room was beginning to grow fuzzy around him. His hands clutched at Boris’s, trying everything to break away from them.

“Phase One is almost complete. No time for lovers… or even sex. You have a world to end.” With that, Boris released him.

Bruce fell onto the rug, coughing and spitting, his heart hammering at the thought of what would happen to Anita in all of this.