Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(4)
Sure, the future mattered, but I didn't have to think too hard. I didn't have to settle tonight. I just wanted to explore, have some fun with Crawford, and see if he was more than f*ck buddy material.
I'd drink with Becky and the guys. Then we'd have the best skinny dip of our young lives, cooling off in the private mountain pools, the perfect way to end a long, muggy September day.
The next mountain bend twisted my ankle as I dug my heel into the car's floor for support. Fuck.
Hiccuping, I reached down, fixing my strap. Becky laughed harder, snickering the whole time.
“You know, Meg, you could use some of that big family fortune to go to Nashville and have some fancy-schmacy designer there make you heels worth walking on. Last summer, when I went, I found this awesome little place where...“
Blah, blah, blah. I zoned out, too drunk and eager for fun to care about Becky lecturing me on fashion. My core tingled, excited for the night to come.
I lived for the chase, the first time with someone new. I'd never found anything better than taking on a new man, feeling his face and his hands all over my *. Despite my wild streak, I'd stayed a good girl.
I wouldn't give any man my cherry until he put a ring on my finger. I'd f*ck him every other way, and feel his tongue all over me, but I wouldn't give that up.
Time was on my side, after all. I didn't care if I needed to suck off half of Eastern Tennessee before I found a man worthy of claiming me as his wife.
Becky was still blathering on about some fashion crap while I nodded and purred agreement. The car pulled onto Crawford family land, and we spied about a dozen other vehicles lined up on the side of the mountain.
For a second, I worried Becky was too trashed to parallel park without plowing into someone, but she managed. She always did.
As soon as the emergency brake was on, I popped my door, and staggered out, straightening my white summer dress. The slope leading up to the little party hut next to the mountain pools was hell on my legs, but I appreciated the warm-up.
I'd need it for all the fun I knew we'd have tonight. There'd be flirting, necking, and maybe finding a little love.
It was just another carefree Smoky Mountain night, the kind I lived for. What could possibly go wrong?
“Crawford, I don't know...”
“Aw, come on, baby. We've got this side of the waterfall all to ourselves. You're a lovely lady tonight, and I'm a hot blooded man, both of us rich as Midas. Stop fighting this thing we're both feeling. Let me be the first man to give it to you like nobody else ever will.”
His hard cock moved against my leg. I laughed as he dove for my neck again.
Crawford was nice, lean, and strong, but he was either the clumsiest kisser I'd ever been with, or I was more drunk than I thought.
“Wait, wait. Let's not get carried away. I want to take this slow, Craw.” I pushed against his chest until he rocked back.
His eyebrows furrowed. “You? Slow? Shit, that's not the Meg Willow Wilder everybody knows. They all said you'd have your lips wrapped around me by now...”
I froze up, staring at him like he'd just punched me in the face. Hot, drunken anger burned my cheeks, so sultry they'd rage like furnaces if I reached up and touched them.
Okay, sure, I knew I had a reputation. But he was calling me a slut to my face, and expecting me to act like one. Consider me blindsided.
“You've been talking to other guys about me?”
Crawford's turn to blush. “Meg, come on, it's not like that. I just mean I thought you'd want to have some fun tonight, that's all. I didn't know you'd become a good girl overnight. Baby, who do I look like?”
Smiling, he inched towards me, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “You don't have to use your mouth with me for anything but a warm-up. Your friends talk a lot. I know you're still a virgin in one way, Meg. I know I'm good enough to f*ck you. Why are you fighting this so hard, baby? Give me what I want tonight, and I'll give you all kinds of things that'll make you scream.”
This couldn't be happening. Was he seriously bribing me? Trying to buy me off with some sick quid pro quo? Hell, with the way he'd been talking, he probably just wanted to bang me and brag about it to his friends.
My eyes bugged out as I fought him off, pushing through the cool mountain pool, covering my boobs with one arm.
I'd heard enough. I turned my back to him, swam several strokes to the rocky wall lining the pool, and clambered out. Crawford yelled something after me, but I barely heard him over the burbling waterfall next to us.
“Meg, wait! We can talk this out. I'm sorry, I got carried away. Come back!”
I couldn't believe it. Just when I wanted to get my life together, this * rubbed my reputation in my face, acting like he expected me to suck him off just because I'd been a total slut in the past.
Well, those days were over. I found my dress and towel laying on the nearby cooler where I'd placed them. I quickly dried myself off and dressed.
I didn't want him to follow. If he had another chance to talk to me later, it'd only be after I cooled off.
Maybe I'd whored myself to too many men. That was my mistake. But nobody treated me like they were entitled to my body or my family name, and I wasn't going to let Crawford be the first.
I didn't care if his family was a little richer than mine. Being a Wilder gave me all the wealth I'd ever need. It also meant I wasn't backing down for anyone who came after my ego, whether or not they had some truth behind it.