SLAM HER(16)

I shivered even more.

He took another step and I put my hand out. “My car broke down. Okay? There’s steam coming out.”

“Did you call for help?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll wait with you. Just to be sure.”

“I mean no,” I said. “I didn’t… I have no help.”

He was right next to me now. Towering over me. “Okay, babe, let’s reset. I’m going to assume you’re broken down and you need my help. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I work at a garage. Let me take a look under the hood for you.”

The guy went right to work. He didn’t ask for permission. He just did what he wanted. I was flabbergasted. He popped the hood and opened it up. I crept up to the front of the car and watched this beautiful hulk of a man reaching into my car, twisting, pulling, grunting.

He finally looked at me, an eyebrow raised.

“Well?” I asked.

“You’re screwed,” he said. “For a little while.”

“Excuse me?”

“You got a busted hose,” he said to me.

“Which means?”

“Which means you're sitting your ass on the side of the road,” he said. He backed up from the hood. “Any other questions?”

I gasped. I stepped away from him. “Thanks for telling me.”

“I’m Slam,” he said. “And you’re…”

“Belle,” I said.

“Well, Belle, you have a decision to make.”

“What?”

“I can call someone to bring out a truck. We can tow you to the garage. You can ride with me. Then get you a ride from there. Something tells me you don’t want that. You look terrified right now, babe.”

I was terrified. Terrified of all the bad things I heard about the Reaper’s Bastards. Terrified to call my father now because of how deep this situation had gotten.

“What’s the other option?” I asked.

“You hang out with me,” Slam said. “I’ll send my guys to get the part and tools I need. I’ll have you fixed up in an hour.”

“I don’t have any money,” I blurted out.

A smile crept across Slam’s face. “We’ll work something out.”

That made me shiver again.

I watched as Slam walked to his guys. He waved his hands and gave orders. The two guys then took off on their motorcycles, leaving me alone with Slam.

He turned and lit up a cigarette.

He looked right into my eyes and it was the most bad ass thing I’d ever seen in my life.

He approached me and I knew I was in big trouble.





twelve



(belle)



NOW



I gripped the side of the bed with my left hand. My back slightly arched off the bed. I let out a small but controlled whimper. My hips bucked a little as my middle finger slid over my clit and curled. In my mind I was right back at that scene. On the side of the road. Being put on the hood of the car. My panties ripped off my body. Being f*cked right there on the hood of the car.

Who was the guy f*cking me?

That didn’t matter.

It was just a guy. Just someone who could do it.

I forced myself to chase away any idea that it could be Slam.

That was insane.

I would never offer myself to a guy like that. Especially my first time.

I added a second finger to my clit and started to make circles. The pleasure quickly mounted and I dug my heels into the bed.

Don’t think of Slam… don’t think of Slam…

I pleaded with my mind.

In my fantasy, the guy was thrusting hard and fast at me. My bare ass slid against the hood of the car. It felt so good. So f*cking good.

As I started to come, I held my fingers in place and rocked against my own touch. I groaned and bit my lip to keep from screaming.

One thing came to mind.

Slam.

I quickly took my hand from between my legs. I gripped the sheets then with both hands. Between my legs, I was… okay. I could make myself orgasm, which was good. It was much needed in life. I could get wet. I could come. Go me. But I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to have someone inside me as I came.

A few minutes of heavy breathing gave way to complete frustration.

I was alone in my bed, alone in my apartment.

I wanted to fall asleep but I couldn’t stop thinking about what Slam had done. And said to me. Because someone touched my ass, he beat them up?

It was scary… but kind of sexy.

I thought about Kyle. He had called me three times since that party at Ashley’s. He was a total computer dork and, of course, because of that, my father loved him. Hell, my father probably was the one who had Kyle at that party.

Part of me wondered what Slam would do to Kyle if he knew what Kyle did to me the other night.

“No,” I whispered.

These weren’t Slam’s battles. I didn’t even know the guy.

Yet, on my nightstand, there was the book of matches he tossed to the table. I had taken them home with me.

The night had completely gotten away from me. So I was going to settle it all with Slam. I’d go to the garage and thank him for what he did. But then I was going to tell him to stay away. I was the daughter of a cop. Not just a cop, but Chief Richards. I didn’t want anyone to get into trouble, including me.