Princess (3 page)

“What’s up, chick?” I mutter into the phone as soon as I hit
accept
, propping it on my shoulder and pull on a sock.

“You have to get over here,” she shouts loudly over the blaring music in the background.

“Where are you exactly?” A party or a bar, that’s for sure.

“I’m at a Coop’s place. You remember Cooper from eleventh grade?”

“Cooper Williams?” I guess, squinting my eyes as I picture him and Polo shirts from years back. He was somewhat popular back when we were in high school. Nice guy, but nothing special to me.

“Yeah! He’s back and having a party, but that’s not why I called you.”

“Okaaay.” I bite my lip waiting; she doesn’t sound bombed yet, but she’s on that route.

“There’s a guy here! And, he’s wearing a Prospect cut from your dad’s gang. His name is Stitch or Scratch, or, umm...I don’t know, something like that. Anyhow, get over here!”

“That’s the same guy I met last night at the bar.”
Scratch.
Thinking of him instantly has my mind flashing to Viking.

“I saw the text you sent me this morning about meeting a Prospect; that’s why as soon as I saw the guy’s name, I called you. Is he the one?”

“Thanks, and yeah, I believe it is. I have to do my makeup and can be there in like an hour.”

“What if he leaves? You need to come here now, this your chance.”

“Okay, I’ll try to hurry. Does Cooper still live in the same house as high school?”

“Yeah, same place.”

“Okay cool, see you soon.”

“Bye, bitch!” she shouts, laughing, and I hang up.

Lucky for me, Cooper had a ton of get-togethers in high school, so everyone from this area knows where he lives. I’m not looking forward to seeing that crowd; I’m sure it’ll be littered with floozies, but oh well. This is about my plan, not partying.

Instead of taking my time getting ready as I would prefer, I lose the comfy socks and shimmy into my favorite pair of daisy dukes. I quickly slide on my new summer sandals, because they pair up perfectly. I look cute but casual. To top my outfit off and make it pop a little, I line my eyes with black kohl and brush on some bright pink lipstick. Men say they hate lipstick, but they love that shit, especially if it’s smeared a little by them.

Thank God my hair’s already dry, or it’d set me back another twenty minutes. The blonde locks damn near brush my waist, just like my mom’s always have.

I stuff my ID and some cash in my back pocket, grab my phone and keys and then I’m on my way. The drive takes about fifteen minutes, and as soon as I park, I’m jumping out of my car. I can tell myself all I want that I’m in a rush to see if my dad’s Prospect is still here, but even I know that’s bullshit. Viking’s who I want to catch a glimpse of.

Bethany’s easy for me to spot as I find her playing beer pong—her usual—so I make my way over. Pinching her butt, I step to the side, messing with her a little, and she turns—surprised—until she realizes it’s me. I get instantly embraced in an exaggerated hug and giggle, so she’s been drinking awhile.

“Damn, that was fast.” She smiles.

“I hurried. I want a beer and to see this guy again.”

“Okay, come on, there’s still liquor left too if you want a few shots.” She pokes her beer pong partner’s arm until he gives her some attention. “Play my turn; I’ll be right back.”

“You promise?” He slurs like the typical weak frat boy out of his neighborhood, causing me to roll my eyes. Another loser seems like, already pretty plastered and guaranteed to puke at some point.

“Be right back.” She nods to him and yanks my wrist, so I follow her toward the kitchen.

“Who’s the dude?” I gesture back to Mr. Beer Pong.

“I don’t know,” she laughs, “but he’s kinda’ cute.”

“You could do better; he has
puker
written all over him,” I argue.

“I’m not picky.” She shrugs and I keep my mouth shut, grabbing a beer from a bald guy manning the keg.

“Thanks,” I say, tipping my cup toward him slightly since he didn’t fill it to the top and have it spill everywhere. The guy obviously knows how to pour a beer.

“Anytime,” he smirks looking me up and down like I’m his next conquest.

Ugh, go polish your forehead, douche.

Bethany leads me back to the beer pong table so she can keep playing and the beat kicks up to one of my favorite songs by The Hills. The volume gets cranked even louder after a second in what should be the living room. The new song pouring through the oversized speakers draws my attention to the people dancing, and I spot the Prospect. He’s leaning against the living room wall, just watching them all.

Scratch’s giving me such an easy in right now, and he doesn’t even know it. Swaying my hips like I want to dance, I make my way over into his direct line of sight. My gaze hits his briefly, just enough to draw him to me, as I grind my hips seductively to the beat.

Like bees to honey, he’s on me in no time at all. Just like that, he’s already hooked; I know it. He pulls my waist into him, gripping my hips securely. Following my rhythm, he moves along with me at first, eventually taking over the lead.

My red solo cup gets crunched, and beer starts to spill over, so I take a few big gulps and attempt to concentrate on not spilling it down my chin as well, while we continue to dance. I’d appreciate it if I could get some sort of buzz established; it’d give me a boost of courage to do what I need to later.

I wasn’t the type who went out and fucked around in high school. I wouldn’t be labeled as a good girl per se, but I wasn’t a whore by any extent. College was different; I explored some and had a good time, but most of all, I learned what I liked. This situation, though, is slightly nerve racking. I’m planning to seduce Scratch when I don’t want him. Like at all.

As soon as the red cup leaves my lips, he reaches around and takes it from me. Before I can get turned around to protest, he finishes the liquid off and tosses the plastic cup toward an overfull trash can.

“I wanted more,” I state loudly and cock my eyebrow. I
needed
it.

Grinning playfully, Scratch tugs my front into him, until our faces are so close that our noses are almost brushing together. He takes the lead again as our bodies gyrate against each other, and his leg pushes between mine. His firm palms cup my ass, applying enough pressure so that each time he moves, my pussy rubs against his thigh and gets a little wetter. We’re close enough that I can easily feel his cock hardening with each thrust.

“We can get more later,” he says watching my eyes and mouth each time he presses me against his thigh. Giving him the reaction he craves, I imagine riding the big biker’s thigh from the other night and part my lips letting a small, breathy moan escape, building up his ego.

Scratch’s fairly good-looking with his fuller lips, hazel eyes, and shaved short hair. By the dancing, he doesn’t appear to be in bad shape either. He’s slightly more on the thinner side than what I normally would be attracted to, but this isn’t about me finding a man and my preferences. It’s strictly based on my mission to fuck with my dad and his club.

Running my hands over his back, I pierce my nails into his shoulders coercing Scratch to me so he thinks that I can’t possibly get enough of him. He complies, feathering his lips over my neck, pressing wet kisses as he goes.

I need to clear my mind and get into it; I have to make this happen. I want to get it over with as soon as possible, so I’m going to make this nice and simple for him.

“Do you want to go somewhere with some privacy?” I suggest breathily next to his ear.

“Yeah, sugar, I’m cool with whatever.”

Bingo.

Thank God he has no idea who I am, because if so, he’d also know that my father would strangle him for kissing all over me like he is. Not having a good relationship with my dad doesn’t mean he wouldn’t teach his Prospect a lesson. It’d take a certain kind of man for the Prez not to scare the shit out of them.

Thinking about it, makes me giddy inside. It’s so fucked up, but I can’t stop feeling this way, knowing I’ll be one step closer to sleeping with a few of them. Then I’ll get to break it to my father that his club has benefitted me as well. I’ll finally get that small piece of satisfaction knowing I’ve hurt and disappointed my dad like he’s done to my poor mom for so long. In the end, she’ll be happier with him gone, and that’s all I want.

Payback’s a bitch, motherfucker.

“Great, let’s see if we can find a room or something.”

“Even better.” He nods, following me down Cooper’s narrow hallway until we find an empty bedroom. I should have brought a leash; it’s been that easy so far.

Once I’m over the threshold and pulling Scratch inside the room with me, I kick the door closed. Ready to make this real for him and get my head in the game, I begin kissing him passionately. Closing my eyes, I search for my happy place. I’ll be pushing it all to the back of my mind as soon as possible anyhow. I need to make this memorable for him. I want him to brag as much as possible, especially around the clubhouse. Then once it comes out to my dad, everyone will know about it already.

Scratch instantly reciprocates, his hands eagerly wandering all over my body. He rushes the entire process like he’s going to burst in his pants. I was expecting his hands to be callused since he’s a wannabe biker and all, but they’re soft.

Why does that seem so wrong to me? Have I ever noticed callused hands before? Maybe it’s because I would assume him being rough and tough, but I’m not even naked yet, and he’s not meeting my expectations.

Shit! Fuck!
What expectations? Erase them, bury that crap, and stick to your plan.

He pulls away breathing heavier, pushing his groin into me a few times. Scratch’s so wound up; he starts kissing over my throat again as he pants, “Let me get you off first in case I don’t last. You’re one fine piece of ass, sugar; you ever been with a biker before?”

“No, and I don’t want to talk about it either.” God, no talking or his breath may kill me. Hot beer scent isn’t something that excites my pussy. “I think the cut is hot, though.” I throw in for extra measure like he’s going to be some prize for me, hopefully building up his ego. “Please, I want you so badly, I can’t help myself. I can’t believe I saw you here; it must have been meant to be.”

It all sounds so rehearsed and fake.
Because it is.

If I don’t work on this better and end up getting an experienced club guy, he’ll be able to see right through me. My entire plan could be blown to shit, everything going downhill if that happens. Or else next time I need to make sure I’ve had a few shots or something, and then I’d be able to blur it all and relax.

“Well I wouldn’t go that far, but us havin’ fun was meant to be, for sure,” he mumbles on his way to my chest.

I get tired of him slobbering on me so I push him off, his eyes meeting mine, confused. The first dirty thought stumbles out to get him back on track. “I can think of better places for that tongue.”

“Fuck yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.”

“Okay, over here.”

“Perfect,” Scratch says and catches my arms, pulling me to him. He guides me, walking backward as we’re pressed up against each other. His body is warming me with each step until the pits of my knees hit the mattress. The bed’s made up with a hunter green duvet and appears to still be clean. Thankfully, I don’t think anyone’s found their way in here yet. Regardless, I’m not touching the sheets, so I’ll just lie on top.

He pushes my shorts down my legs, his hand shooting between my thighs excitedly. I use the alcohol and my determination to get my body turned on, wetting his overzealous hand.

I feel like a fucking whore right now. Tons of women would be stoked to be here with him; he’s decent, just not for me. Time to fucking suck it up and do this to hurt my father. I’ll wound him any way possible to pay him back for the heartache and distress he’s caused our family, even if I have to play the bad guy for a little while. I want him to feel such disappointment and embarrassment, just as I have my entire life growing up. I want his fucking heart to hurt. Empty inside from the father that was never there.

“I thought I was getting your mouth?” I don’t want to fuck him, so if I can get away with oral that would surely count toward my goal. No doubt he’ll be back at the clubhouse bragging about how he had some blonde chick on her knees the night prior.

“You can have whatever you want with that tight little puss you got down there. I can’t wait to taste you, sugar” he mumbles and squats.

His fingers leave my wetness and tangle in the strings of my underwear as he carelessly pulls on them, yanking the elastic toward him. I don’t know if he thought he could rip them or what, but it doesn’t work so he shoves them down to my ankles. He leaves them resting at my feet and pushes his face between my legs.

Scratch’s nose bumps my clit instantly, causing my center to clench up in a jolt of pleasure. No way am I going to be able to do this standing up; it’ll feel way too good if he has any clue whatsoever as to what he’s doing. He seems rushed, but he zeroed in on my sensitive spot with the first shot, so this could end up not being so bad.

Sitting, I scoot back toward the pillows, making sure to leave enough room for him to climb on the bed also. As he follows my body to the mattress, he pushes my legs wide open. His soft hands run along my thighs, parting them as far as possible, giving him a full view of my pink center.

Scratch leans in, giving my pussy long powerful strokes with his tongue. Each enticing lick’s being accompanied by skilled fingers relentlessly plunging in and out of my tight entrance. It seems like no time passes as my head’s thrown back, moaning out my pleasure, riding the wave as it starts to hit me and make the entire world disappear.

Holy shit! Maybe I should fuck him after all.

I’m beyond surprised with his persistence as my hips thrust into his face, twisting and jerking as I work my way up to my release. My fingers rake through his short hair as I pull his mouth into me as much as I can to ride his tongue through my orgasm.

Once I’m depleted, I’m left panting and wide-eyed. Not often can a man eat pussy like that, and fuck if he isn’t one of the best I’ve had in a long time. Maybe this mission of mine won’t be such a bad thing after all. God, if the Prospect’s that good, I can only imagine how Viking would be. I’d probably fucking die.