Falling For The Biker: The Vice President's Girl Chapter 11

Wren

"Ohhh yesss," Brittany moans. "Right there, EJ...yess."

Ezra's corresponding groan echoes, accompanied by the wet sound of skin slapping against skin.

I hold my pillow over my ears, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Fuuuucck." His groan is long, low...loud. I feel it in the pool of my tummy.

But I'm too irritated to care.

His life goal is to piss me off, isn't it?

As if interrupting my cozy time downstairs was not enough, now he's interrupting my sleep.

I huff, adding more pillows over my ears but it's not nearly enough.

The rapid creak of the bed penetrates through my pillows, and I growl, teeth clenched.

It's a little past three a.m. and they've been going at it since two.

I was awake when they made it up the stairs, awake for their first round, and I'm still awake for...I've lost track of how many rounds.

"EJ, EJ, EJ..." Brittany chants, voice so high she can be heard from across the street. "I'm about to come."

Ezra's response is a faster slapping of their hips, groans spilling out of his lips.

I blink up at the ceiling, arms crossed over my chest.

What did I do to deserve this?

A loud scream tears from Brittany's throat, and based on the amount of times I've heard that scream this night, I can tell she just reached her orgasm.

And I know Ezra's about to follow suit, his groans are more frequent now, and louder.

A devious idea pops into my mind, anger backing it up.

"If I can't sleep, he's not going to come," I mutter, stomping out of my room and towards his.

I pound on his door. "You're both disturbing the entire neighborhood!"

The door falls open, Ezra's eyes meet mine, and my jaw drops at the sight in front of me.

I freeze.

Ezra's large hand fists his cock, stroking it in fast, jerky movements. His lips are pressed together in concentration, dark hair falling over hooded eyes.

Toned, naked tummy clenches and unclenches, knees on the bed, spread apart.

The sound of sex, the smell of sex... it makes me heady, heart racing in my chest.

Liquid warmth pools in my tummy, trickling down my core.

"Holy...f-fuuuck..." he cusses, stiffening.

His jaw slacks, lips parting in ecstasy, with eyes pinned on mine.

And then... he spills.

Thick ropes of cum shoot out from his cock, his movements less precise and more choppy.

Large fist milks his cock until every last drop is out.

My mouth waters, eyes fixed on the mess on Brittany's back, then they drift back to his eyes.

I'm utterly speechless.

"Oh my god, Wren?" Brittany shrieks, throwing the covers over her naked body.

Her voice breaks me out of my reverie.

Blood rushes in my ears, and I turn quickly on my heels, running to my room, shutting the door behind me.

I lean on it, chest heaving. My whole body trembles, my core pulsing...aching.

Sagging down to the floor, I hug my knees with shaky hands, ignoring the dampness of my sleep shorts or how hard my nipples are.

The only image in my head is Ezra.

Ezra's eye...Ezra's face...Ezra's cock.

His hand stroking his cock...

I shiver at the memory, goosebumps pricking my skin.

My brain fogs up, guilt creeping into me.

Tristan's been dead for less than a week, yet I'm lusting after a man I despise with all my heart.

I don't know how long I sit there, but when I realize no one is coming after me, I crawl into my bed.

The night is finally quiet, but my brain isn't...not anymore.

I've been avoiding Ezra all morning.

Last night, after tossing and turning—being saddled with guilt—I managed to fall asleep.

Unfortunately my dreams were filled with Ezra, and his wicked mouth on me.

Waking up to my shorts damp, and sticking to my core was horrifying.

I jumped into the shower immediately, scrubbing my body until it was red and raw, wishing I could scrub out every thought.

After that, I went through pictures of Tristan and I again, as if that would somehow erase the guilt I still feel.

My plan is to stay in all day, but my stomach protests, grumbling for food.

I huff out a breath, deciding to head down instead. I can't hide out here forever, even though I wish I can.

A familiar ringtone blares the moment my feet touch the floor, and I grab my phone.

Squinting at the caller ID, I make out the letter J and ignore the rest of the jumbled letters, picking up the call.

"Judi!" I squeal excitedly.

She laughs. "Wren, glad to hear you're feeling better."

"It's good to hear from you, how're you doing? How's Seattle, and work?"

All the words leave me in a rush, and it's a welcome distraction.

"I've been good. Seattle is fine, and work is the same," she replies. "Have you heard anything about his funeral?"

Exhaling deeply, I shake my head. "No, I can't even though I want to."

"Why not?"

"All his lines have been disconnected. I've tried sending emails, you know what that means for me, but they all bounced back."

Those nights when the loss still felt raw, I reached out. I stayed up forcing my brain to work just enough for me to string out some emails.

Only for them to bounce back in seconds.

"Huh," Judi hums.

"Yea." I nod. "Even his Instagram has been deleted, every social media gone. As if his death came with a disappearance."

A beat of silence passes.

"Isn't that odd?"

I shrug. "What is odd is that I've never met or spoken to any of his family and we dated for three years. Now that I think about it, he probably never told them about me."

"So he's just...gone? Off the face of the internet?"

"Yea, but..." I pause, unsure of how to say this. "You know that saying 'out of sight, out of mind?"

Judi hums.

"Not to sound insensitive, but the way his family wiped everything off about him, it sort of makes grieving easier," I explain. "All I have are pictures, texts and memories. And somehow it feels like there should be more."

"Oh honey, you miss him, and you loved him. It doesn't mean you shouldn't live life all because he's gone."

My lips press together, eyes watering.

"It's okay to move on from it," she continues. "There's no right or wrong way to grieve."

Those words calm me, easing away the guilt I feel.

"Thank you, Judi," I croak. "You have no idea how much I needed to hear those words."

"Anytime, Wren. Wish we could talk more, but I gotta go now, do take care, okay?"

I sniffle. "You too, Judi. Don't be a stranger."

The call drops, and my stomach rumbles even more. I guess drinking on an empty stomach the night before will make you want to eat a full cow.

Finally, I make my way downstairs for some food, stopping short at the commotion and circle formed in the center of the room.

I push my way to the front, and my jaw drops open.

A half naked guy kneels, covered in what I perceive as whiskey. His right eye is bruised shut, purple welts forming on his skin and blood dripping from nose.

Towering over him is Ezra, blood coating his knuckles... and he does not look happy.

What the fuck is going on?