Firetrap: The Soul Scorchers MC (The Scorched Souls Serial-series Book 1) (3 page)

I had to give Olympia credit, she never looked away. Her lips were parted, and I could see her squirming.

Imagining my cock buried in her tight pussy, I continue my onslaught, hammering into Celeste as the song reached its crescendo.

“I need to come!” she wailed.

Her cunt tightened around me. “Come then,” I hissed, prepared to explode myself.

Keeping my eyes locked on Olympia, I slapped Celeste’s other ass cheek, erupting inside her. My cock pulsing while her pussy clenched over, and over.

“Fuck …” I groaned through my release.

Even from my corner, I could see the mayor’s daughter was hot; turned on by my display. Her cheeks were as fiery as her hair color.

When I pulled out, and gave Celeste another slap on her ass, the room erupted with applause and whistles. I hadn’t realized how quiet everyone had become. Apparently, listening to the Nine Inch Nails, and me and Celeste fucking, had taken precedent over any conversations.

“Shows over,” I announced. “Go back to what you were doing. Next round is on me!”

More cheers as Celeste adjusted her skirt and hurried to her place behind the bar, where Milton was already taking drink orders. If my sex-capade wasn’t enough, free drinks had just made me the most popular guy in the bar. The mood was festive.

The only person still staring at me was Olympia. I was surprised when she smirked and shook her head.

One of her friends elbowed her, and she turned back to the pool table.

I wasn’t sure who’d actually won that battle of wills. At first, I’d felt assured of my victory, but the look she’d just given me, seemed a hell of a lot like a dismissal.

What the fuck?

With Olympia Olsen, I just couldn’t win. I wasn’t even sure what exactly I was competing for. All I knew for sure, was the girl had my head swimming and dick stiffening all over again.

She leaned over the table to shoot, making sure to wiggle her ass. The tight jeans she wore clung to her curves.

“What was that all about? Not that I minded watching,” Leg interrupted my thoughts and deflated my hard on.

“Not sure, man. Not sure.”

But I intended to find out.

Olympia

I slipped into my teeniest bikini, eager to spend the day lounging by the pool, in the sun. After last night, I’d decided the best place for me was far away from the, supposed
civilized,
biker my dad had hired. The men at Milton’s had been anything but civilized, especially the one who’d bent the bartender over in front of everyone.

Of course it would have to be
him
. He’d watched me the whole time he was plowing into her. I should have been appalled, but I’d been turned on.

When I’d peeled my panties off before bed, I’d been horrified to find them soaked. I’d never been that wet, not even during my heaviest make out sessions with Conner.  Ever since the day the biker had helped put out the fire, he’d occupied my thoughts and dominated my dreams. Conner, as attractive as he was, couldn’t keep my attention. He paled in comparison to the biker, who was steamy sex on a stick.

I glanced at my engagement ring. It would get better once we were actually married. It had to, right?

“Miss Olsen, your carpenter has arrived,” the new housekeeper called from outside my closed door, keeping me from answering the one question I was certain I wouldn’t like the answer to.

It didn’t matter anyway. Regardless of my worries, I was going to marry Conner Mills. I’d just caught a case of cold feet. I wasn’t the first bride to experience pre-wedding jitters, and I certainly wouldn’t be the last. At least my walk down the aisle was a good year away.

“Miss Olsen …” she started again.

“I heard you the first time. Tell him I’ll be ready in a minute. He’s early.” I was tempted to send him away.

My head hurt from all the free dinks I’d consumed during my girls night out, and sleep had been elusive. Images of one strong-as-steel biker had kept me up all night. He might have been physically fucking the skanky bartender, but mentally it was about me. A blind man could have seen that. And I wanted him to take me the way he had her, hard and fast. For a virgin, I had no problem in the fantasy department, and my toy collection had kept me busy exploring.

Pushing aside my filthy thoughts, I planned my day.

Once I explained my vision for the bathroom, I would escape to my poolside lounge chair. Maybe the sun’s warmth would lull me to sleep; though with my luck, I’d dream about the infuriating man; my desires would find their way right into dreamland.

“James!” I yelled at my bodyguard slash butler. He waited just outside my bedroom door. “I need you.”

As always, he entered without delay. He knew better than to keep me waiting. “Yes, Miss Olsen? What can I do for you?”

“That carpenter … escort him up here, and then get my pool supplies ready. And call me, Olympia. I hate Miss. How many times do I need to remind you?"

He inclined his head and left to carry out my orders, wisely keeping his mouth shut.

My dad had hired him and my housekeeper, to go with the new house. He’d managed to pick the perfect staff; loyal, dedicated, and willing to tolerate my treatment, no matter how bitchy and bossy I was. I didn’t doubt he was paying them way more than what they would make elsewhere, which was a green light for me to do what I wanted. I would make sure they earned their salaries.

I hurried over to open the doors to my private balcony. Stepping outside, I gazed down at the pool, the water shimmering in the morning sunlight. My chaise, towels, lotion, and a mini ice chest next to it, was waiting. Apparently James had anticipated my wishes before I’d given my order.

He’d been hired a month before the house was complete and had already figured out how to foresee my needs, discovering the hard way what happened when he didn’t.

I smiled to myself. Another man under my thumb, just the way I liked it.

“Olympia, this is Mr. Richards,” James announced from behind. 

Just great, I hadn’t put on my cover up; which meant, Mr. Richards, aka ‘biker carpenter’, was getting a very intimate view of my ass.

My favorite bikini bottom, as Conner liked to point out, was just a thin strip of material that rested between my butt cheeks, not an actual swimsuit bottom. Though, despite his complaints, he loved to tease me and referred to me as ‘Cheeky’ when I wore it. A teeny triangle made up the front, leaving little to the imagination.

Mr. Richards cleared his throat.

“My cover, James?”

He handed it over in a blink. I still couldn’t get over how fast he moved. Thankfully, I was now hidden beneath the silk. I cinched the belt and turned to face my newest worker, prepared to put him in his place.

When he met my gaze, a wicked grin spread across his handsome face. “Olympia Olsen,” he drawled. “Nice to see you again, so soon.”

I released a puff of air and sputtered, “You! You’re not doing my bathroom. No way. Send someone else.”

“Is there a problem, sugar?” My dad entered the bedroom, surprising me. “I just wanted to make sure …”

“Make sure what? That I could handle my own construction project?” I turned my shock and fury at seeing the man who’d kept me awake all night, and was now standing in my bedroom with a tool belt slung from his hips, onto my dumbstruck father.

Mr. Richards raised a brow, challenging me. If I complained about his behavior last night, my dad and fiancé would know where I’d been drinking. Something that wasn’t acceptable. Conner would lose it. Having me hanging out at some dive bar didn’t look good for his political aspirations. 

As for the burly biker, who’d invaded my dreams, there was no way I was letting him intimidate me. This was a simple business transaction. No reason to get upset. I’d overreacted. James was by my side, hovering protectively. All I had to do was explain what I wanted and disappear poolside.

So what if he was wearing a black t-shirt that strained across his chest, clinging to his hard contours and defined abs. If I could just stop staring, I’d be fine. Besides, it didn’t matter what he looked like, he was wrong for me in every way.

Even so, I couldn’t help but admire the way his tattooed arms flexed when he crossed them. It was undeniably impressive.

Not a problem. I’d just keep my eyes off his bulging biceps. I could do that.

With renewed resolve, I tore my gaze away from his body, only to be rewarded by his smug, knowing expression that had me questioning my sanity.

“Olympia,” my dad pressed, pulling me from my appraisal. “I never doubted your ability to explain your vision. I just wanted to make sure things were off to a good start. Remember, I hired Mr. Richards.”

“Indeed you did,” I muttered. “Daddy, go to work. James is here with me. I’ll be fine.”

He walked over and kissed the top of my head. “See you at dinner, sweetie. Mr. Richards, I trust you will exceed my daughter’s expectations. This project is very important to her.”

“Oh, I have no doubt I will exceed any and every expectation your daughter has.”

My dad nodded and left, missing, or choosing to ignore, the way the biker’s gaze devoured me. I shivered despite the sun’s warmth beating on my back, through the open balcony doors.

This was going to be a long,
long
day. 

Boone

What the hell was Olympia Olsen thinking, prancing around in practically nothing when a contractor she knew nothing about, was scheduled to work on her private bathroom? It was apparent; she didn’t make the best decisions.

As for her male butler, bodyguard, whatever the hell he was, he needed to grow some balls … and a housekeeper too?
How many people did it take to manage this bitch’s life?
She had her daddy, the mayor, wrapped around her little finger, like a puppet.

Olympia Olsen was bad news for any man crazy enough to mess with her.

Fuck. What did that make me?

I was one crazy son-of-a-bitch, because I still wanted to spread those ass cheeks she’d so proudly displayed, and lick her from that delicious bottom, down to her hot slit, and all the way to her clit.

It was a good thing the mayor walked in when he had, or I just might have made a move. Screw the man servant, he could watch for all I cared. Someone needed to bring this woman down a notch or two, or five hundred.

“You can leave, James. I will explain what I want and then head for the pool.” Olympia motioned for her bodyguard to exit. Reluctantly, he stalked from the room.

I guessed he was positioned outside the door, waiting for me to somehow fuck up, giving him the chance to intervene and play the hero.

“So, you’re going for a swim?” I asked, looking forward to seeing her again in her barely-there-swimsuit.

“Worry about the job, Mr. Richards. Bryce, right?” She crossed her arms.

Against my better judgment I found myself offering my road name, “Call me, Boone. That’s what my friends call me.”

“And I’m your friend now?” She raised a sculpted brow. Her pouty lips pursed.

“I could be a lot of things to you, Olympia Olsen.”

Her eyes widened. “You have a lot of nerve. Maybe I should call James back in here.”

“Maybe you should. But don’t worry your pretty head about my intentions. Right now, I’m not anything but your carpenter, so why don’t you show me the bathroom?”

She let out a little huff and led me into the airy room. Her elevated Jacuzzi tub was a sight to behold. I wondered what it would be like to lounge in the bubbling water with Olympia curled up against me. Her next comment quickly squashed those thoughts.

“What? You’ve never seen a tub,
Boone?
”

It was obvious she thought I was some backwoods hillbilly, who lived in a shack with no running water, or some such nonsense. I didn’t bother correcting her; instead I used my best hick accent to torment her further.

“That’s right Miss. I ain’t never seen a bathtub. Shit. I don’t bathe either. I’m a biker. Us bikers are inbred perverts who like to roll in the dirt for fun.”

She gasped. “I didn’t mean …”

“I know exactly what you meant. You’re rich, and you think I’m some poor loser hungry for a handout. You keep thinking that. Now, please, I’ll ask you one more time. What the hell do you want me to do in here?”

She stared at me for a few long seconds before finding her voice. “I want you to paint starfish around my window and build shelves along that wall.” She pointed.

I listened as she rattled off her list of do’s and don’ts. When she was done, I nodded. “I’m going out to my truck to get what I need. You can go swim, or you can stay and bark orders, I really don’t care.”

“That won’t be necessary. James will keep an eye on you. And don’t touch my stuff,” she added before sashaying out the door.

“You’d like me to touch you, though, huh? Just like I touched Celeste last night.”

She poked her head through the door. “In your dreams, biker.”

I tossed my head back and laughed.

Olympia Olsen wasn’t like any woman I’d ever met. I still couldn’t figure out if that was a good thing, or not.

All I knew for sure - I wanted her.

Olympia

My attempts to relax by the pool were thwarted by thoughts of Boone upstairs in my private bathroom. The sound of him hammering and sawing wasn’t helping either.

Using my portable intercom, I called for my housekeeper, “Sheila, bring me one of those fruity cocktails, and give me the strong version.”

Typically, I didn’t drink the day after a night of partying, but today was an exception. Boone Richards made it an exception.

An image of him sweaty, muscles flexing as he worked, played across my mind like the song that never ended.
What was it with this guy?

I had to admit the truth, at least to myself. I was obsessed.

I’d thought about him at least once a day for the past four years, and that was the minimum. Most days, visions of his hulking frame, intruded a handful of times, if not more. There was something about him that had me trapped like a fly in a spider’s web. I needed to untangle myself, before I did something I regretted.

My cell beeped. Conner’s grinning face flashed up on the screen. He was the last person I felt like talking to right now, but I answered. It was my duty, after all. Wives-to- be should always answer calls from their betrothed. That was something I’d heard my mom say when I was little. I couldn’t remember now why she’d said it, but it had made an impression.