chapters 1-3
IVY
Brantley had been staying at our condo in Phoenix to be closer to work. It was his first big case, where he’d finally been given the chance to prove himself to the firm by representing some needy billionaire that probably screwed thousands of people out of millions of dollars. I thought the guy deserved to lose, but I wanted to be supportive, which is why I didn’t argue when Brantley came home less often, even missing Thanksgiving at my parent’s house.
As I rode the elevator up to our floor, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all a bad idea. A stupid last-ditch effort to save our relationship and bring the spark back. I should’ve known something was wrong. If not for the condo he insisted we buy (even though we already own a house in our hometown an hour away), it should’ve been the way I’d begun to feel about him. The more time I spent around different people, the less enthusiastic I was about the life I’d set for myself. Brantley and I had been together since senior year of high school. We made it through college, with very few breakups considering I’d stayed home and majored in some useless degree, and he went away to Harvard, then law school. The minute he moved back home I knew things were different. I had changed. For starters, I wasn’t hanging out with the same people I had been before. My best friend, Cassie, was the quiet bookworm type back in high school, and I’d been too worried about all the wrong things that we hadn’t even spoken until college. In any case, the things that I’d always thought were important seemed so superficial by the time Brantley returned home.
I don’t know what I was thinking when I said yes to his proposal. I guess I wanted to hold onto the future that I’d always pictured myself having. Maybe I needed my life to still make sense. Maybe I thought I owed it to him after all these years.
That would explain why I was more pissed off at myself than Brantley when I entered our bedroom to find him in bed with some blonde, I’d never met. He hadn’t even noticed me, as I stood there like a moron in nothing but lingerie, a black trench coat, and a pair of hot pink heels that strapped around the ankle. We had barely had sex anymore but when we did it was nothing like what I was seeing. Brantley was always refined and quiet. I usually did all the work and afterwards I was more frustrated that he had once again left his socks on than I was satisfied. It was an eye-opening realization that we weren’t right for each other and I had been kidding myself.
Shifting on my heels, I turned to escape the sound of Brantley’s climax when he saw me.
“Ivy! Wait!”
But it was too late for that. I might’ve been relieved when I slipped the ring off my finger and left it behind. The marble floors echoed with the sounds of my heels and I realized how much I hated them too. My whole life with Brantley was a lie. And I’d wasted the last nine years.
IVY
Now sitting on the side of the road, with my jeep as dead as a doornail, I can’t even bring myself to cry.
Mortified, I try to call the only person I can face right now. Cassie. But of course, my phone, too, is dead since I’d planned to charge it when I got to the condo. I get out and walk to Bucky’s, a local bar just ahead, and my only choice.
I’ve been here before but never on a Wednesday night. Members of the Deadly Sinners bike club from all over the state reserve Wednesday nights to take over our only late-night hang. And the rest of us usually make ourselves scarce.
The loud clatter and yelling quiets down the moment I enter the bar leaving AC/DC blaring from the juke box. I’m used to pulling focus. With all the beauty pageants my mother forced me into and spending my entire life as the center of attention, I can take a room full of people staring at me any day of the week. But this room…this room is something different. It’s packed with angry looking bikers, both guys and girls, or half naked women with looks that could kill as they stare me down. I feel like I’m standing in the lion’s den but refuse to let that shake me, otherwise I may never find a phone. Shoulders back, I strut towards the bar in my short trench coat, like I’m waving to the crowd from just another pageant stage, and I settle on a stool between two large guys, shoving my nerves away.
HUNTER
To think I almost didn’t ride tonight. I tatted a client which took all fucking day, and up until five minutes ago, I was contemplating going home vs. the chick that crawled into my lap when I got here. The Deadly Sinners have been my family since I was eighteen. Even if I never officially jumped prospect, most of these guys are like my brothers. So, instead, I came out with Zach and Taz for a quick one. And it’s a good fucking thing I did.
Seeing her with those fuck me heels strapped to her feet, has shocked me out of whatever mood I was in. I can picture them digging into my ass as I bury my cock deep inside her, and now that I’ve unleashed that image in my head, no other pussy will do tonight. Ivy Prescott was the feature in every adolescent wet dream I’ve ever had. Every time I saw her, my mind went to the dirtiest fucking places it could find:
Her on all fours as I drove into her. On her knees, taking me down her throat. My face between her tan thighs. The list goes on.
And it’s sad to say those thoughts have only become more vivid with time. Her long wavy blonde hair always seems to frame her perky rack. She’s got curves that I want to run my fingers over and a round fuckable ass that I’d gladly cup as I fill her with my cock. Those long legs of hers have always been toned and gorgeous. They’re even sexier now with a deep tan spread across her robust flesh, and I can’t take my eyes off them.
Ivy’s never been attainable. But now she’s just within my reach, and tonight I’d be stupid not to shoot my shot. It’s the first chance I’ve had in years, and probably the last.
Chicks like her only roll into Bucky’s on a Wednesday night when they want something different between their legs. I don’t take Ivy for the cheating type, but who am I to question it if she’s willing to stray from that dickhead fiancé of hers? If she’s walked in here looking for a good fuck, that’s exactly what she’s going to get. Regardless of who’s checking her out, she’s not going home with anyone except me tonight.
When she sits her fine ass on the stool, and runs her fingers through her refined mane, Zach goes to make his move. I grip his arm, ignoring the fact that the chick in my lap has been talking my ear off for the last forty minutes.
Zach sits back in his seat with a smirk on his face, while I nudge the woman, whose name I never got, to stand.
As I approach, Ivy tries to get Scotty’s attention from behind the bar. “Excuse me.”
He begins to make his way over to her. His eyes roaming her body with an interested gleam, but one look at me and he bypasses her to help some chick on the far end of the bar.
“Excuse me!” Ivy says again with a little more force.
The guy seated beside her sees me coming and vacates his spot. And I ease onto the stool.
“Well. Of all the bars…” I smirk at her and she whips around to look at me.
Her pouty pink lips part and all I can think about is slipping my dick between them.
“Hunter.” She says, surprised to see me.
“What brings you to my side of town, Princess?”
Like always she frowns at my nickname for her. Even if I am planning to fuck her senseless, I can’t resist using it.
“I’ve come in here before.”
I shake my head. “Not on a Wednesday night.”
“Maybe I feel like drinking.” She says. Her challenging tone sending more blood rushing to my cock.
I nod at Scotty, who comes over quickly.
“Two shots of whiskey.” I order.
“And how do you know I drink whiskey? Maybe I wanted wine.”
“I don’t doubt that. But, tonight, we’re expanding your tastes. You’re probably used to having everything tamed and tidy.”
“You think so?” She raises an eyebrow.
“I know it. A lady like yourself probably has wine all the time. You look like you could use a good whiskey. Sure as hell didn’t come in here looking like that for the same old bullshit you’ve been getting at home.”
Ivy shrugs nonchalantly despite the flush of color on her cheeks. “Maybe I walked in here looking for tequila.”
I shake my head. “Not rugged enough.”
Scotty walks over and leaves our drinks before walking away to catch the attention of a red head nearby. Ivy examines the drink then slowly swallows it down. The bob of her throat as it passes through draws my balls up tighter and my dick is running out of room in my jeans. I follow suit drinking down my drink in one gulp.
“So, where’s the pretty boy tonight?” I ask, setting a twenty-dollar-bill on the bar.
I could give a fuck about him. Brantley Hamilton has always been a pussy. I just want to know if we’ll be having revenge sex tonight, which I’ll gladly fucking do.
“Phoenix.” She says, twirling the shot glass around in thought. Then as if, she’s made up her mind, she flips the glass over on its rim. “Screwing some bimbo in the bed I picked out.”
Her naked ring finger is the first thing to catch my eye and I don’t know what it says about me that I’m slightly disappointed.
Ivy shifts in her seat and crosses her legs. A move so simple but still so sexy my aching cock throbs against the zipper.
“And that brings you here?” I ask, getting sucked into her hazel stare like a moth to a flame.
“What’s wrong with here?”
Scotty walks by and picks up the money. I tap two fingers on the bar top letting him know I want two more. “Well-kept girls like you only come here when they aren’t being taken care of properly.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Let me assure you. I don’t need anyone to take care of me. That’s what dildos are for.”
The image of her with her legs spread and a dildo buried in that sweet little cunt of hers flashes through my head. I’m so hard it hurts, and I’m fighting the urge to throw her over my shoulder like a goddamn caveman. It’s time to hurry this shit along. But first I need to level the playing field, so she knows exactly what she’s getting into.
“Let me assure you, Princess, what you need is someone to pound that tight little pussy until you come so hard you see stars. And I’m afraid a dildo won’t do.”
Scotty returns and sits our drinks down, before making himself scarce. This time, Ivy swallows down the brown liquor in one gulp, and flips her glass. Drinking mine too, my eyes stay locked on hers. She watches me with so much want in her eyes I may nut in my goddamn pants. Finally, she throws her purse across her shoulders, and pitches an eyebrow.
“In that case, maybe whiskey is exactly what I need tonight.”
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