Royal S.O.B. (A Bad Boy Romance) (33 page)

SYNOPSIS: Avril is one of "those"
girls -- the kind who sleeps around,
gets
bored easily
, and isn't looking for a commitment. She's made a game out of
being with every type of guy: The Nerd, The Gamer,
The Christian Grey
. But out of all the men she's been with, none
have been able to
satisfy her
quite
like Blane has.

He's not just a badass. He's not just a
great fuck
. He's her
knight in shining leather
... and he's
come to steal her heart away.

This
10,000+ word novella contains graphic language, adult themes and scorching hot
lovin', not just with The Badass,
but his
entire MC!

***************

When it comes to dating guys, I guess you
could say that I like to experiment. Most women try to claim it's just
one
man they're after -- a man to take
vows with, to share a home with, to have babies with -- and when they
inevitably get all of that, it always ends the same. She ends up taking him for
granted (or vice versa), and the illusion they worked so hard to create
together crumbles.

For years, I've been watching friends run
themselves ragged in pursuit of one
very
specific
type of guy and one
very
specific
type of life. Studying them made me determined to never be like
that -- to be tied down, to
settle
.
Just
thinking
about the regret I
would feel 10 years into a marriage going nowhere has always been enough to
give me chills.

While I can definitely comprehend the
potential merits of a life shared with one singular person, let's face it --
most of the so-called benefits rarely live up to one's expectations.

That person who is supposed to be your
"best friend"? They can become your enemy in an instant, over the
pettiest of issues. Couples can be familiar with all the Dr. Phil techniques in
the world, yet still be unable to communicate for shit.

If you were to question anyone in this podunk
town on what they considered my final fate to be, I don't doubt most would tell
you, "Oh, Avril's a good girl at heart. She's just going through a phase.
She'll settle down one day, you'll see."

But they'd be wrong.

You see, it's not just that I like to
experiment when it comes to men;
I'm
literally on a mission to date every kind
. Those articles you see in
women's magazines -- "Five Men to Date, Not Marry"; "10 Guys You
Shouldn't
Take Home to Mom" --
those are like
gospel
to me.

I really feel life's too short to stay tied
down to just
one
type of personality. A personality that can actually
change
for the worse
the longer
you're with someone. Experiencing various men truly serves to broaden my
horizons on so many different levels.

Especially in the sack.

So far, I've dated and/or fucked: The Nerd,
The Gamer, The Emo, The Christian Grey, and The Jock. A sizable chunk of the
type of men I would consider to be on my "bucket list", with one key
exclusion: The Badass.

Yep. That's right, I'll admit it;
like any weak-in-the-knees female, I'm a
sucker for a hardcore bad boy.
I think it boils down to biology, really --
the need to feel protected.
And who
better to protect me than a ripped, rugged mass of pure testosterone... a
chiseled Adonis of unfiltered aggression?

Alas, such a specimen, thus far, had alluded
me.
You don't find many rebels dripping
of pure sex in podunk towns, after all.
My dream of losing all control and
being dominated in bed really seemed like it would remain just that -- a dream.

That is, until the day my knight in shining
leather rode in on his hog...

***************

Usually
I'm
the one on patrol for my next conquest; very rarely do men approach me. I think
it's because they're aware of my racy history (people talk) and are
intimidated. It might also have to do with the fact that as I get older, the
pool of available guys gets smaller, as more and more succumb to settling down.

A deep restlessness was definitely stirring
inside me when I decided to stretch my legs during a walk that fine May
morning. Every part of my body felt needy, calling out for something that --
thus far -- couldn't be found in Petite, Oklahoma.

Particularly my pussy
.

I hadn't been paying very much attention to my
surroundings up until that point, meandering fairly aimlessly, just enjoying
the feel of the sun on my face. All of that changed the second I heard a
noticeable rumble in the distance. It was growing both louder and closer,
making quick work of tightening the gap between us.

Just as I felt the urge to glance behind me, a
big blur of metal and black whipped past me, tousling my hair wildly and warming
my body with a distinct mechanical heat. I stared in wonder as this chiseled
piece of machinery sped away in front of me, carrying an even more chiseled
man.

The sounds the Harley was making were echoing
down the entire street, as if commanding it with their dominance. I could feel
the vibrations being emitted from the hog shaking through my body, rocking me
to my core.
Just being in the passing
presence of something so powerful had me quivering from head to toe
.

To my amazement, I watched the motorcycle turn
on a dime and start to circle back around, the sexy stranger and I now
face-to-face, though still several paces apart. As his muscular form came into
better focus, I noticed he wasn't just a
man
on a
motorcycle
, but a
biker
on a
bike
.
And he was beginning to
slow his speed, almost as if he were going to stop!

Sure enough, a few seconds later, the biker's
powerful horse roared to a halt as he pulled up right beside me, causing me to
stop instinctively in my tracks. I was now able to make out every inch of this
mysterious, dangerous rebel, and
god, did
I like what I saw
.

His hair was dark and flowing, on the long
side and left to hang free. It wasn't so long as to warrant the use of a
ponytail like with other bikers, but had enough of a length to it to manage one
of those sexy hair flips as he slipped off his helmet.

Fuck, how I wanted to run my hands through
it...

With his helmet off, I could make out his face
now, and it completely shattered my assumptions of how a biker
"should" look. This guy wasn't old, or fat, or bearded, or even very
greasy -- he had damn-near model features, in fact.

I watched as his wandering eyes scanned the
length of my own body, studying my curves with a hunger, a hunger that excited
me. Other girls might have felt violated when his gaze lingered on my tits,
thinly veiled behind my almost see-through top... but really, his admiration
thrilled
me.

When he finally lifted his strong, dreamy eyes
to meet mine, they stole my heart in an instant.

"Not bad, baby," he grunted, casting
my body a quick nod of appreciation.

"Not bad at all."

Somehow finding the courage, I said defiantly,
"I'm not a piece of meat, you know!"

Who was I kidding?
I totally wanted to be HIS
piece of meat.

"I'm... I'm Avril," I said more coyly,
my eyes running the length of the powerful machine that sat between this man's
legs.

"That's French for 'April'."

"Blane," grunted the biker.

"That's
nothing
for
I don't give a
damn
."

I knew I should have been taken aback by his
brazenness, but instead it intrigued me.

"Are-- are you new in town?" I
gathered the courage to ask, secretly hoping that he was here to stay.

"Just passing through," he replied
with a grumble, quickly crushing my world of possibilities.

"Well, that's not entirely true..."
I said with a lustful smirk, lightly tracing a hand down my décolletage.

"You stopped, didn't you?"

Blane gave me a sexy, knowing smile, appearing
pretty pleased with me egging him on.

"How 'bout you, baby? You from around
here?"

I loved hearing him call me "baby".

"Sadly, yes. No riding the open roads for
me," I told Blane.

"But...
I try to find excitement where I can
."

I reached out and gave one of his tight guns a
good squeeze, shocking myself.

"Good to know, baby. Good to know. I like
my women like I like my bike: hot, fast, and
trembling
between my legs."

Oh, god.
I
was trembling between my legs just hearing him say it!

"You ever been on one of these bad
boys?" he asked.

Blane was referring to the beautiful piece of
machinery sitting under his tight, leather-clad ass, but I couldn't help but
notice the double entendre.

I shook my head slowly, nervously.

"Well there's a first time for
everything, baby. Get on; I'll show ya what you've been missing."

I could feel my own natural heat starting to
radiate throughout my pussy. Here he was, The Badass --
the sexual experience I'd been searching for long and hard...
Granted, there was no guarantee that by climbing onto the back of his bike, I'd
soon be climbing into his bed... but the opportunity was there, no doubt.

Despite my growing lust, I still felt
apprehensive about hopping right on. Mama always said not to get into cars with
strange men -- and I'm pretty sure climbing onto the back of a motorcycle
counted. Blane was
most definitely
a
strange man, and by the looks of it, a dangerous one at that.

"I don't... I don't think I should,"
I tried to protest, struggling to maintain some semblance of better judgment.

Blane twisted on the bike's handlebars,
revving its engine.
I think to show me just
how powerful it really was.
The sound made me jump in my skin and shot
bolts of excitement straight to my groin. My pussy was flushing with heated
arousal; my most sensitive bits swollen and wet.

"C'mon, baby. Don't be like that,"
grunted the sex god, his strong grasp finding its way to the underside of my
chin.

Tilting my face up, he continued, "I
promise to make it the ride of your life."

Maybe I was just hearing what I wanted to
hear, but it
really
sounded like he
was implying something more... something sexual.
Something that I wanted more than anything, even if others found it
wrong.

A shy smile crept across my lips, my mind made
up.

"You better," I replied seductively,
approaching the back of Blane's bike tentatively but determined.

Blane slid forward in his seat just enough to
make room for me to squeeze in. I hesitated for a moment or two upon reaching
the start of the metal casing.
I was
about to put myself at risk for I-didn't-even-know what
.

I suppressed that inner voice of warning, the
part of me that "knew better".
I
was catering to a much more
primal
voice now
.

As I slipped that first leg over the side of
the hog, a thrill like no other coursed through my body, and I found myself
having to grab onto one of Blane's taut shoulders to steady myself. As I
lowered into the bike's hot leather seat, I couldn't help but notice my legs
were now spread wide open... and that my pussy had no place to go other than to
be pressed into the biker's lower back.

"Hold tight, baby," he growled,
taking my arms and commanding them to wrap around his broad, muscular chest.

I was careful not to touch the cut emblazoned
on his black leather jacket, knowing there'd be hell to pay if I didn't give it
the respect it was due.