Falling For The Biker: The Vice President's Girl Chapter 43

Ezra

Everything settles. Every noise, chatter, they all go quiet save for the cackling of the bon fire. The air is thick with anticipation, and the newbies reek with faux confidence.

Deep down, they're terrified. But we're not allowed to be scared, and so we hide that shit up, or better yet, bottle it and toss it somewhere so fucking far away.

Sweat trickles down my spine, my jaw tight as pain shoots up my bad leg, but I hide it. The throb fluctuates between intense and dull, and fuck, it's getting harder to stand.

When Ray nods, I nearly breathe a sigh of relief, clutching the bottles of whiskey because we're about to get this over with.

"This initiation ritual will teach you some fucking patience," Ray declares. "Let's fucking go!"

A loud shot echoes in the sky, and the newbies at the beginning of the gauntlet path begin moving slowly between the bikers.

The first crack of metal on skin cuts through the air, followed by a loud howl from the first man. Whips, belts, chains, and clubs come down hard on every one that passes through the middle.

Grunts and yelps accompany each strike. It's raw, crazy, but necessary.

Somehow, my eyes find Wren beside Quincy at the makeshift stand. Her eyes are wide in horror, jaw dropped as she holds onto Quincy like she can't believe her eyes.

Before she left to Seattle, things were pretty chill...until Ray and I grew properly into our positions, so she hasn't witnessed this before.

She meets my gaze, shakes her head and goes back to watching the show. While she's judging us, others are looking with exhilaration, wonder.

And what Ray said comes back to mind. She doesn't belong with bikers, she's too good for us. Too pure, but hell do I want to destroy her, ruin her, and show her just how pretty life can get.

"That guy's taking this pretty well," Ray mutters, jerking his head in the direction of one of them.

He's stoic, quiet, and taking all the hits like an anomaly.

"Hm," I grunt in reply, the pain in my leg intensifying.

Ray raises a brow. "You good? Somehow I can see how pale you look."

My reply is another grunt, teeth gritted as I ride the wave till it slowly dulls, my vision blurring for a minute.

"Is your leg hurting?"

"I'm fine," I choke out, taking a swig of the whiskey.

"Shit, EJ!" He swears. "I told you not to get on that bike!"

A deep breath settles in my lungs, and I swallow thickly. "You're not helping."

Before he can respond, the first man makes it out of the path toward us.

Welts decorate his body, but he's not bleeding. He bends at the waist with his hands on his knees as he pants.

"Well done," Ray says to him, and with a look at me, Torch, Clay, and two other bikers, we dribble some whiskey on him.

He hisses from the burn on the open cuts, knuckles whitening as he grips his knees tightly. "Oh fuck!"

"Fuck no," the next man that makes it out of the the path says, and I nearly laugh.

Ray slaps the first man on the back, the sound loud enough to alert the crowd.

Tessa, the new bartender, holds a kutte to me, and I hand it to the man. "Welcome to Raven Reapers MC."

And then, we pour whiskey on the next man.

Let's just say his scream was the loudest, at least it was masculine enough.

"I've missed you, you know," Brittany pouts, sitting on my good leg. Thankfully the pain on the other leg has subsided.

"Mhm," I say, looking for Wren, but I don't see her. My frown deepens.

Brittany skims my arms. "I've never seen you ride until tonight, VP. You looked really sexy out there."

I give her a look and don't respond, instead I go back to searching for Wren, my jaw clenching when I still don't see her.

Where the fuck is she?

Suddenly, the music switches up and almost everyone jumps up to their feet, the ladies pairing with the men, including Brittany.

"Come on, VP!" She squeals, dragging me to my feet.

I press my lips into a thin line. "Not now, Bri–"

The words die in my throat when Ray steps out of the house being dragged by Quincy, and he wiggles his brows at me and Brittany.

"Get up and move those hips, EJ!" He yells with a laugh. "Get 'em Brittany."

That seems to spur Brittany on and I follow her tugging, rising to my feet as Ray walks over with Quincy.

He hands me a glass of whiskey. "Tonight was good. We have new brothers." Then he leans in, and whispers. "If you need to celebrate with Brittany, say the word and I'll take Wren back to mine."

Hell no.

My smile is tight. "That won't be necessary."

"After the dance you're about to receive, let me know if you change your mind." He winks, too happy to be sober but too coherent enough to be drunk.

"Right."

Quincy waves at me, then tugs him a little further away.

Brittany is on me immediately.

Her smile is sultry as she gives me her back. Just like everyone else, her hips grind down on me, ass rubbing against my groin.

The music is dirty, the lyrics even dirtier and I realize that I'm surrounded by a bunch horny motherfuckers.

And what the hell does that make me?

I knock my drink down the back of my throat, and place my hands on Brittany's hips.

Wren and I had one moment together, and that's all it'd ever be. Whatever obsession I suddenly have with her needs to be nipped in the bud.

Who better to assist me than Brittany?

With that, I let myself get sucked into the hormones flying around.

I move my hips in tandem with the music and Brittany's movements, my hands tracing her waist, the curve of her hips and her thighs.

She straightens, hooking an arm behind my neck and we move together. Hips to hip, cock to ass. Her breath tickles my collar bone, and I will my dick to come to life.

Fucking hell, I'm not even hard.

And that's a big problem.

I focus on it, rocking harder, slipping my hands over her bare tummy and thighs. Her breathing quickens, but my dick doesn't even twitch.

"VP," she pants, turning around, "wanna go upstairs?"

She rubs my arms, fingers trailing down my chest but I stop her before she can go further.

"No," I warn, grabbing her wandering hands. "We're just dancing."

She pouts, and that's when I feel it.

Heat prickles the back of my neck, the hairs standing on end like I'm being watched.

And I know exactly why. My body does too, because blood rushes south, my jeans tightening.

I don't have to look to find out, but I do anyway.

Turning slightly, I see her.

Wren.

Her arms are crossed, and a hard glare sits on her pretty face. She doesn't look impressed, not in the slightest.

My lips twitch.

I'm truly fucked, aren't I?