ALIEN ROMANCE: Captivated by the Alien Lord (Alien Invasion Abduction SciFi Romance) (Kahara Lords Book 7) (20 page)

Chapter 5

On the night following my last day of school for the year, a month after we first met, Mike invited me to a party at his friend Scut’s house. He warned me that the night would be mostly populated by bikers, and that meant that things could get crazy. He explained that I should stay with him, especially because this wasn’t the kind of party you could attend unless you knew someone who was part of the in-crowd. I obviously wasn’t part of that crowd, but I did my best to dress the part.

I wore a bra—a black, lacy one that I’d bought for Halloween one year but never wore— and a short leather skirt, fishnets, and boots, all of which I’d bought the previous weekend just for this occasion.

I barely recognized myself when I looked in the mirror. I looked like the kind of girl my parents warned me about. I looked naughty, slutty, hot, and maybe even dangerous. Never before had I felt turned on simply by looking at myself.

I was further excited by my commitment to attend the party without any panties. It might have been a fairly mundane detail to the average woman, but it was sexy and new to me, particularly because my skirt was so short. “Sexy” was a label I was newly-adopting for myself, and I was eager to explore the different facets of the identity.

Mike wore torn jeans, a wife-beater shirt, and his leather vest, which had probably seen more of the world in the years he’d owned it than I had in my whole life.

The party was being held in a large dirt lot. Scut was a mechanic in addition to being a part-time drug-dealer, and he had plenty of space for events such as this. Floodlights from above lit the gathering, which comprised motorcycle enthusiasts from our town and nearby cities.

Initially intimated by the number of people and their uniformly dangerous appearances—they each, undoubtedly, had criminal records—I felt better once Mike put his arm around me.

He’d asked me to call him Ox at the party, mostly because more people knew him by that name, and it didn’t take me long to learn that he had an elevated status is biker circles. I was proud to be Ox’s arm-candy for the night, even if his reputation as a true biker, as an honored member of the community, was earned by committing crimes.

“Ox!” Scut removed himself from a group of female bikers, all of whom were heavily tattooed and were probably younger than years of smoking and drinking made them look.

“Get over here, you sonufabitch!” Mike gave Scut a big, manly hug that reminded me of two bears fighting. “Scut, you remember Lauren, right? From the bar?”

“Right! Coughing girl, right? With the fruit drinks? Want me to get you something with an umbrella in it?”

“Easy, Scut,” Mike said. “Lauren’s my old lady now. She’s tough. Don’t mess around with her. She belongs here.”

“I’m just joking with you, Lauren. Welcome! Any friend of Ox is a friend of mine, and any woman who can keep up with him has to be hard as nails. And you’re looking pretty fine tonight, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Thank you, Scut. It’s good to see you again,” I said, resisting the urge to grin from ear-to-ear, and hoping that I wasn’t blushing. My relief at being welcomed into the fold, in addition to Mike’s and Scut’s flattering words, had me elated.

Scut grabbed two of the women he’d been talking to by the arms. “These are my girls, Eve and Dez. Girls, this is Lauren, and of course you know Ox.”

“Hi Lauren. Hi Ox,” they said simultaneously, as if rehearsed.

They seemed to bat their eyes at Mike, and I tried to avoid picturing them with him. One look around the party told me that partners were mostly formal with these people, and that swapping sex-partners was not unusual at all.

As if he’d read my mind, Mike gave my ass a reassuring squeeze and pulled me close. I could tell that he noticed my missing panties. He gave me a sly smile and slid a hand discreetly up my skirt as we walked from the group to explore more of the party.

As Mike introduced me to more people, I felt more comfortable, more like I belonged, and once the initial nervousness of being in this new place wore off, I allowed myself to enjoy the naughty feelings of being secretly bare-assed around all of these people.

I noticed men and women looking at my cleavage, which was a new kind of attention, and I felt exhilarated that my ass and pussy were just a strong breeze from being totally exposed.

Once I started feeling bolder, I found reasons to pick things up off the ground or arch my back and lean in to conversations, giving whoever was behind me an eyeful. Mike, having seen all kinds of craziness in his years with this group, seemed to find my experimentation cute, if not quaint.

In reality, there were women walking around topless and even nude, so my little beaver-shots were probably not especially thrilling for anyone. To me, though, this was something totally new, and taking some ownership over my body, feeling like I had some power over others, was not only novel, but important. It challenged me to evaluate who I was and what I wanted in life.

While Mike and I watched one of his friends perform in a heavy metal concert, he slid his hand down the front of my skirt. As we bobbed to the beat, he cradled my clit between his fore- and middle-fingers, getting my juices flowing.

Eventually, as the band really settled into their set, playing covers that most of the crowd knew, he raised me onto his shoulders. Towering over the crowd, I ground my crotch against his wide, strong neck. The thought crossed my mind that if Mike was an Ox, I was his yoke, but my little personal joke didn’t distract me from getting my rocks off against his neck.

He must have known what I was doing because he anchored both of my knees with one arm as he moved the other hand to my ass, squeezing in rhythm to the music and bouncing a little more deliberately.

As the band played its last song, an apparent crowd favorite, Mike unhooked my bra, and, giving my caution to the night and to my new identity, I let my happy tits free in the cool air of the stars, much to the approval of the nearby crowd, who hooted and hollered.

By the end of the night, my apprehension about Mike’s friends, his lifestyle, and my relationship was nearly dissolved. Everyone I met, even those who were intoxicated on alcohol or drugs or some combination of the two, was friendly and warm, welcoming me in as one of their own.

We were saying our goodbyes, and I was entertaining the idea of getting a small tattoo to really commemorate my stepping away from my mundane upbringing. Right as I was narrowing down some mental-pictures of what I’d like and where, we heard a sudden commotion.

In the parking lot, where everyone had parked their bikes, a group of other bikers with very different symbols adorning their jackets and vests were standing ominously, shouting insults and epithets. I hadn’t been around long enough to understand the inter-gang politics of the local motorcycle groups, but I didn’t have to know much to see that these people were looking for trouble.

Holding Mike’s hand, I felt him tense. I had never seen him look anxious or afraid before, and I realized he was afraid for my sake. Before I could look to him for reassurance, he pulled me to the side and made a b-line around the side of the building.

Getting caught up in a major altercation would violate his parole. If he hurt someone, or killed someone, he would be going back to prison, and probably for a long time. Fortunately, we had arrived late and parked near the rear of the lot.

As we approached his bike, we heard yelling and the sound of glass breaking coming from our previous location. Things seemed quiet, and we were nearly on the bike when we heard a voice from the darkness.

“That bitch has got a sweet ass, Ox.” The voice was whiskey-soaked, and smoke-ruined.

“Watch your mouth, Blotto.” Mike’s voice was calm, but I could see veins pulsing in his neck, and I could feel him squeezing my hand, keeping me close.

“Word is you’re cleaning up your act, Ox. Pretty sure I can say whatever I want. She wearin’ panties under that skirt?”

“I said ‘watch your fucking mouth.’” Mike’s shoulders were tensing and his chest was puffing. He wasn’t the type to show off; he was preparing himself.

Blotto came out of the shadows. He was smaller than Mike, but still a big man. I was surprised to see that the symbols he wore were not of a rival gang, but of an ally.

“I saw you around the party, girly. I really enjoyed the show.” He reached his gnarled hands out before him, groping for my breasts.

I pulled back into Mike’s body, but he let go and stood in front of me. He was standing taller than I’d ever seen him, his posture resembling that of a bear more than of an ox.

“Back the fuck off, Blotto. You don’t want this. You’ve had too much to drink.”

“C’mon, Ox. Where’s your party-spirit? You know what they say, man: Bros before hoes! Any bitch of yours is a bitch of mi-“Before he was able to close his teeth, they were knocked out of his mouth. With one cannonball of a punch, Mike leveled Blotto, dislocating his jaw and leaving him senseless, mumbling in the mud.

“We’ve got to roll, Lauren. Now.” Getting on his bike, he handed me the helmet and pulled me onto the seat. He revved the engine, and we took off, my arms shaking from adrenaline and the cold night air.

Chapter 6

During the ride, as the initial shock of the fight wore off, I finished scolding myself for coming to the party in the first place. I was overtaken by immense gratitude, and not only for Mike’s having saved me. I was grateful for his bringing me into this world, for proving to me that I was not a simple, boring girl, destined for a plain life.

I fit in at the party, and I was excited by the prospect of exploring this side of myself, this dormant rebelliousness that, until now, had found no release. I had found a man who I could trust, and who inspired me to trust in myself as well.

I knew Mike couldn’t hear me over the engine, and I knew my voice would waver with emotion if I tried to speak. Instead, I kissed his neck and arms.

I wore his leather jacket, to protect me from the cold, but I could tell from his goose-bumps that he was not too strong to feel the chill. I rubbed my hands along both of his arms to warm them as I dotted his shoulder with what was left of my lipstick. 

I could see that he was speaking, so I removed the helmet and put my ear near his mouth.

“I have to leave town,” he said. “I know that dirt-bag will press charges, and that’ll put me away. I can’t believe, after I’ve done so much to make better choices, it takes one asshole to ruin everything.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said into his ear, the wind whipping my hair. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have had to fight him.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, nearly taking his eyes off the road. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t see how good my life could be without all the illegal stuff. The night I met you, I was deciding whether to make a pretty major drug deal, one that could make a lot of my friends a lot of money.

“I was weighing the odds of getting caught and going back to prison. I met you, though, and you told me about my daughter, about Maggie, and that she couldn’t draw me. It wasn’t about the crayon. It was about me. I haven’t been there for her, and it’s because of my shitty decisions. I went home and thought hard about my priorities.

“I want her back in my life, and I want you in my life. For both of you, I need to change myself. I need to change myself for my own sake too, and it took meeting you to help me realize that. I may have saved you tonight, but you saved me back at that bar.”

We arrived at my apartment as he finished his sentence, and tears were in my eyes. I was moved to tears not only by his touching words, by his love for me, but by the thought that I might lose him right as I was beginning to realize how much he meant to me.

Without speaking, he walked me to my door, and we hugged for a long while, ignoring the shivering of our bodies.

Eventually, I found the words: “I’m going with you. I have to. I don’t know where this is going, between you and me, but I have at least the summer to figure it out. I’ve learned so much about myself over our short time together.”

He bent down to kiss me, and in addition to the stubble on his cheeks, I could feel the warm wetness of his cheeks. He was crying too, silently, and he seemed even stronger for it.

We moved into the warmth of my apartment without ending our kiss, the saltiness of our tears joining where our lips met. We stripped one another and lay, naked, exploring our warming bodies with cold hands.

We took time to kiss one another on every sensitive area, paying extra time and attention to the spots that made our hair stand up or made us catch our breath. I took him into my mouth, taking pleasure in giving him pleasure. He slid his tongue into me, kissing the lips between my thighs as deeply as he had those on my face.

I stood with my back to him, bracing my hands on the back of his neck, and ran his hands over the front of my body. His hands finally found their homes in the crevice of my pubic triangle and over my breasts, while his manhood grew appreciatively against the crack of my ass.

I propped my foot up on the bed as he pushed his nose into my hair and kissed my neck. He slid into me. We both gasped as our bodies tensed, swelling and tightening as he pushed into me and I pushed back. The passion was such that we relied on slow, measured thrusts to prevent us from peaking too soon to fully enjoy our union.

The build was slow but intense and, though we drew it out, it was not long before we fell to the mattress, panting in each other’s arms, a mess of sweat, tears.

“This is right,” I thought.

“This is right,” he said.