Page 4 of Ryder
“No! I’ll… I’ll look. I don’t want this getting out, Doc. You can’t tell the others.”
“If someone attacked a member of this club, you know I need to tell the Pres and the VP. That’s how this shit works.”
“Jesus Christ. This is ridiculous.I can’t have been raped. This… this doesn’t happen.” I wrenched those tubes out of my hand, cursing out at the pain, and shoved the doc aside, when he tried to stop me.
“Don’t fucking touch me. Let me out of here.”
He backed up and let me leave, because what fucking choice did he have? I went straight from the infirmary to my room, locking the door, and heading for my freezer, where I removed the vodka and opened the painfully cold bottle, pouring a half glass.
I stared at it for a moment. Should I even drink with whatever they’d doped me up with? Who the fuck cares at this point? I gulped the icy drink down in a few large gulps, and leaned on the counter, my breaths gasping out, as my body reacted to the cold alcohol.
“Fucking hell.”
I looked at my chest again, at those bloody streaks on my skin. They still itched. I made my way to my shower, kicking my boots off, and sliding out of my leather jeans. I hadn’t wornunderwear, so I slid my socks off and then I stood for a moment, looking in the mirror in the bathroom.
It wasn’t full length, but I could see my chest, and it looked like I’d been attacked by a wild animal.Jesus. I turned to check my back. No marks, other than my tats. I took a breath and looked down, finally focusing on my cock. It was soft, of course, but… there wassomething.
Lipstick? Yeah, fucking lipstick near the base of my cock. A strange plum colour. I rubbed at it. Definitely lipstick. Well, that confirmed it. I’d definitely been with someone.I just couldn’t remember a damn thing.
I felt around down there, and everything felt intact. No injuries. Did I want to check my ass? Was I that sure nobody had fucked me? Did I want to know? My back hadn’t been scratched like my chest. That was a good sign, right? I couldn’t bring myself to feel around back there, so I took solace in the fact that it didn’t hurt.
Raped? No.Bikers don’t get raped. I stood under the water for ages. Letting it rain down on me, wishing it could clear my head. Bring my memory back. Make me understand. When I closed my eyes, and tried to think back to last night, there was just nothing. Not even snatches of memory. Just nothing. What the fuck had happened to me?
Two
Ifelt deliciously soreinside. He’d been nice and big. That biker had a lovely big cock, and I’d ridden him until it hurt. I’d used him for hours. Viagra was sometimes really effective, but last night was a real surprise. For a biker, who I’d assume regularly partook of many illegal substances, he’d reacted to it like I couldn’t have imagined.
Was that why I was still thinking about him now? Rather than planning my next conquest? He’d been hot. Rugged. Dark haired. Dark eyed. His skin tanned and firm. His body strong and fit. Toned. His tattoos the perfect adornment on a body so sculpted.
Did I take great pleasure in the fact that I’d forced a big guy like him into submission? That I’d taken what I wanted from him, while he couldn’t stop me? Couldn’t fight. Couldn’t even really partake in the festivities in any way apart from the obvious. He’d been pretty out of it. He couldn’t even enjoy it, because he didn’t really know what was happening to him. Hewoke up now and then, but mostly he was out of it. It didn’t make his cock stop working though. I mean, it couldn’t, could it?
I think I’ve found a new type though; big strong biker men. Or was it just that he’d made an impact on me, more than any other man I’d been with?
I hadn’t even found out his name, and how could I not find out the name of someone like him? Maybe I’d go find him again sometime, and try for round two. I mean, it’s not like he’d complain.
Three
What a messed upday. After finding myself dumped outside the clubhouse, and having to see the doc, and finding out what the fuck might have happened to me, because I still wasn’t planning to accept that shit, my next fun task was a visit from Reacher and Stitch.
I couldn’t ignore them. It’s basic fucking club respect. I had to let them in. They took in my freshly showered state, since I’d had to wrap in a towel and run for the door, and both of them feasted their eyes on the marks on my chest.
They didn’t comment. Just looked.
“He told you,” I said, a heavy, dejected sigh following the words.
Reacher sat down, and Stitch joined him. They left the single armchair for me.
“Can I get dressed first?”
They both shrugged. I took it as a yes, because I couldn’t face this shit right now wearing just a fucking towel. I took a few minutes to dig out underwear, which FYI, I planned to alwayswear now, and jeans. I pulled out a black t-shirt, and slipped into that, and then I took a breath, and headed for the kitchen.
“Drink?”
They both nodded, so I dug the vodka out again and poured three shots, heading back to them.
“Sure you should be?” Stitch asked, running a hand over his beard as he accepted his drink.
“What the fuck harm can it do?” I asked, downing the shot instantly, before I even sat down.
