CULVER: A Motorcycle Club Romance Novel (14 page)

I nodded.

“But, Daddy, the wrong man could be
any
man. A football player, a doctor, a
senator. You can’t judge people like that. You have to…you have to try and give
people a chance. Boon is strong. He can do it. He wants it. I can see it in his
eyes, how badly he wants it…”

Dad’s eyes dropped back to his lap, where he was
twiddling his thumbs.

“I can’t stop you, Samantha, if this is what you want.
I can’t tell you to never see him again. Soon, you’ll be your own woman, moving
out, having your own life. I can’t always be there to pick you up. I…I just
hope I’ve raised you well enough to when to back away, when to protect
yourself, because you can’t trust anyone else to protect you. Not always. Not
everywhere.”

“I promise, Dad, you did good. I’m not…I didn’t invite
him here. I didn’t know he was coming. I liked him, and I like him even more
now, but I’m taking it slow, I promise. I’m getting to know him, too. I just…I
want you to get to know him. I want you to see that he can be someone good.
And…and I think he wants that, too. Maybe, Daddy, if you just gave him this
chance, he’d be even better. If he knew that someone like you believed in him…”

“Jesus, Samantha, you’re asking a lot now. I mean,
it’s one thing for me to say you can see him. But what do you expect me to do?
Find him an apartment and get him a job on the force?”

“No, no, nothing like that, just…just meet him.
Please, just look him in the eye and shake his hand and say hello. Can’t we
just start with that?”

The room fell silent as Dad considered. The only sound
was a ticking clock.

“Have him come over tomorrow,” Dad finally said with a
sigh. “He can have dinner with us.”

I squealed, ran to him from my chair, wrapped my arms
around him and squeezed tightly.

“Thank you, Daddy, thank you,” I said, my eyes
squeezed tight, a few final tears rolling down my cheeks.

And those were happy tears.

~
23
~

The next day, I was in a rare state, frantic for no
real reason. I mean, obviously, I was nervous about what was certainly going to
be a tense meeting. I mean, after the explosive welcome to Missoula that my
father had given Boon, I knew things couldn’t really be worse this time around.
But I worried about them both: I worried about Boon acting like the gentleman I
knew he could be, and I worried about my father raking him over hot coals.

Getting Boon to agree to come over hadn’t been as easy
as I’d hoped it would be. He was willing, but reluctant, worried. I think he
was worried about the same things I was: his own ability to put his hard-riding
attitude to the side for one night, his ability to charm my father at least
half as much as he’d charmed me.

About an hour before my father was due home from work,
the doorbell rang. I thought it was UPS or a neighbor or some other person, but
my heart leapt when I peered out the window and saw Boon standing on the steps.

“You’re early,” I said, trying to keep my grin from
spreading ear-to-ear. I was, of course, thrilled to see him, but I didn’t want
to seem too infatuated.

“I couldn’t just sit around in that motel room
anymore,” Boon said back, his own grin belying his excitement to see me.

I stepped aside, holding the door open for him. He
slipped in, looking around the foyer.

“Nice digs,” he said, a hint of envy in his voice. My
house must have looked so strangely ordinary to him: family photos on the
walls, carpeted stairs, loveseats and coffee tables. For someone who seemed to
live most of his life in motel rooms, I wondered if Boon had ever had a home to
himself.

“Do you want something to drink? Eat?” I said, letting
the door close and slipping past him, walking towards the kitchen. He shook his
head.

“I’m good. When does dear old Dad get home?”

Something about his tone made me nervous. He clearly
still harbored some animosity towards my father: whether that was because of
their first meeting or a general antipathy towards authority figures, I
couldn’t quite tell.

“Um, an hour or so. But, Boon, will you…will you be
nice? To him, I mean? Like, I mean, I know that he probably left a bad
impression, but he really is a good guy, and he’s willing to give you a chance.
I hope that means something to you,” I said, not sure how to say “don’t be a
dick” in a nice way. Boon grinned.

“Oh, Samantha, don’t worry. I can be very charming.
I’m grateful, I really am, I promise, and I’ll be good. I don’t usually make
being nice to cops my priority, but I’ll make an exception. I’m still a little
rough around the edges,” he said, reaching out for me and pulling me into his
arms. He kissed the top of my head, I closed my eyes and smiled, loving the
smell of him.

“Thanks, Boon. It’s just…you know, he’s a good guy,
but he’s still on the fence about you…” I let my sentence trail off, not seeing
any need to explain further. Boon wasn’t stupid.

“So…where do you sleep?” The question caught me off
guard and I blushed. I’d never had a boy in my room before. I wasn’t allowed. I
probably still wasn’t allowed, and I
definitely
wouldn’t have been allowed to have Boon up there if my parents knew. But
they didn’t know…

“Upstairs,” I said, pulling away and grabbing his hand
in mine. I led him up the stairs, thinking that Boon really
was
corrupting me. But in an innocent
sort of way. Ever since I’d seen him on my doorstep, I’d felt my body drawn to
him like a magnet.

It wasn’t that I didn’t also like just talking to him
and hanging out…I just also really, really,
really
liked the way it felt when he touched me. For the first time, I’d met a guy
who excited my body as much as my mind, and that felt amazing. It felt like
what I’d always wanted, been waiting for, dreamed of. I was hungry for him in
every way: his voice, his stories, his laugh, his hands, his lips, his…

I turned to him before opening the door to my room.

“You’ll be the first guy that’s not related to me to
step foot in this room,” I said, aware that my eyes were probably sparkling a
little bit. In a way, each time I was with Boon, I felt like I was losing my
virginity all over again. In the hotel room, obviously, but then also on the
beach, and now…I was letting him into all sorts of places that I’d never let
anyone before. It was exciting.

“Don’t tell me there’s actually some sort of torture
dungeon back there,” he said with a grin. I laughed and turned the doorknob,
following him in.

I looked around the room, suddenly very aware of how
babyish it must all have looked to him: pink comforter, photos of Alicia and
Becky in fuzzy frames, a teddy bear on the window seat, snow globes dotting the
shelves. I turned to him with a timid grin.

“I guess this is a lot more pink than you’re probably
used to,” I said. He grinned back.

“I like it. It’s who you are. And I like…I like this
bed,” he said, suddenly pushing me forward. I fell onto my back with a cry of
surprise. Looking up, Boon was staring down at me, the grin now looking wicked.
I felt my blood begin to rush just from the way he was looking at me, could
feel my pussy coming to life again, my clit beginning to perk up as he stared
down at me, hunger in his eyes.

“I’ve had this bed since I was a little girl,” I said.
“My Dad bought it for me.”

“Oh? What do you think your Daddy intended for you to
do on this bed,” Boon said, his hands coming to my bare thighs, rubbing upwards
towards the hem of my dress. My skin sparked, my flesh a piece of flint, his
fingers steel. I moaned as his hands pushed the dress up further, revealing
more of my milky flesh, pushing upwards towards my panties.

“I think he probably wanted me to have a lot of sweet
dreams,” I said, my breath shallow, my eyes following Boon’s hands as they came
to a rest on my hips. He dropped to his knees before me.

“I imagine he wouldn’t be too pleased if he knew his
little girl was fraternizing with someone like me on this bed,” Boon said,
bringing his lips to my skin. I shivered as he began to kiss my inner thighs,
his soft lips like a feather.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” I said back, my
thoughts beginning to fade as desire took over. I knew we were on thin ice,
that Dad had only just come around, but I didn’t care. The way Boon touched me,
kissed me, was enough to make me reckless.

His lips moved upward steadily, and I let my head fall
back against the covers, my eyes closed as my body temperature rose with each
tender kiss. Finally, he paused, hovering just above my pussy. I could feel his
hot breath against my sex, could feel myself growing wet from anticipation. His
mouth came to the fabric of my panties, the thin material the only thing
between his lips and my clit, which was now swelling and aching to be touched.

His fingers closed around the elastic top of my
panties and he pulled down roughly; I raised my legs, letting him pull my
panties down, my pussy now exposed to him. He looked up at me with a look in
his eye which, I’m sure, matched my own. He leaned forward again, licking his
lips, kissing the flesh around my slit, his fingers sliding up and down along
my wetness, making my pussy clench and ripple with need.

Slowly, he pressed one finger into me, causing me to
cry out and push my hips towards him. His mouth found its way to my clit and I
cried out again as he flicked it with his tongue, causing a fire to whip
through my veins. He began to suckle and lick at my clit while probing me with
his finger; my head seemed to melt into the mattress, my cheeks flushed and
rosy from heat, my fingers clutching at the covers.

Slowly, he pushed another finger into me, and my body
pushed harder towards him, wanting more. He circled my clit with his tongue,
then flicked it upwards, the changing sensations like a kaleidoscope of
pleasure. My pussy was clamping down on his fingers as he pushed them into me
then curled them, seeming to search for something inside me; I suddenly felt a
bolt of fluid electricity rush through me as his fingers pressed downwards.

My legs clenched around his head, my hands rushed to
his hair, entwined in the strands, pressing his face forward. He rubbed at the
same spot inside me, his tongue tracing wild patterns on my clit. My body
pushed downwards against the mattress, letting his fingers press deeper,
harder, against that magic place, each second passing like a century as I felt
a great need welling up inside me, a desperate agony, a feeling like water
pressing against a dam.

“Oh, fuck, Boon, please, don’t stop, don’t stop,” I
moaned as his tongue sped up, flicking my clit steadily, each time drawing me
closer and closer to the edge, his fingers deep and strong inside me, coaxing,
beckoning, pressing against that spot, that spot, oh jesus, that
spot.
My mind fell apart, I pushed his
head against me, hard, feeling my body coming to a singular point of boundless
ecstasy, so close, so close, don’t stop,
please…

“Fuck,” I screamed out, hearing the word pierce the
warm, still air of my bedroom, and released a flood of juices over his fingers,
my clit standing straight like a soldier, my body shuddering as all the
built-up tension melted away in a flood of delight, like sand running with the
tide. My hips arched upwards as his fingers moved away, his tongue taking their
place, tasting my juices, lapping at them like water.
 

I moaned as Boon pulled away, my grip on his head
relaxed, my thighs falling open in weak surrender. He began to crawl over me,
grabbing my hands along the way and pulling them over my head. I smiled dazedly
up at him, still reeling from the orgasm. And that’s when we heard it.

It was distant, but not very distant, maybe three
blocks away. A roar of many engines. At first, I didn’t think anything of it,
but I reacted when Boon’s body stiffened above me, his head snapping to the
window.

He quickly jumped off the bed and ran towards the
window, pushing the curtains to the side. The roar grew nearer, louder, bearing
down on us. The volume increased every second, eventually ripping through the
air violently, assaulting our ears. Boon turned to me, his face almost comedic
in its panic, eyes wide and shaking. I saw where the curtains were trembling
from his grip. I sat up, my heart beating hard now.

“What is it?” I asked, desperate for Boon to say
something, anything, to make me feel better about what I was hearing, seeing.

“Tell me your dad owns a motorcycle,” Boon said, his voice
a rough whisper. I shook my head, biting my lip. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit!”

“What is it? What’s going on?” I said, ideas forming
in my mind: bad ideas, really bad ideas. Boon backed away from the window and
began to pace as the roar grew even louder. And then stopped. The silence was
as loud as the motors have been. Boon glanced at the window, shut his eyes,
mouthed some words. I jumped up, rushing to where he stood, grabbing him by the
arm and turning him to me.

“Boon, tell me what’s going on,” I said, trying to
meet his eyes.

“He found me. He came. He’s here,” Boon said. He
sounded like a little boy, and that scared me more than anything else.

“Who?” I asked, already knowing the answer, and
feeling my stomach drop through the floor.

“My father.”