Authors: Layla Wilcox
The Billionaire Biker’s Bitch 1
by Layla Wilcox
Copyright © 2015 by Layla Wilcox All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All characters in this book that participate in sexual activity are 18 years of age or older.
Graduate from college. [
Break up with long-term boyfriend. [
Get the perfect summer job. [
Break out and be crazy for one night. [
It’s Friday night and Claire Davenport is on her way to meet her friends and celebrate her freedom. She’s almost run off the causeway when a ninja biker pulls a wheelie in front of her. But all that’s forgotten after a few drinks, and
once on the dance floor, she allows a sexy, muscular stranger to lead her to a darkened hallway in the back for a quick hook up. As he walks away, the writing on the back of his shirt reveals he’s the daring ninja biker.
It’s Monday morning and billionaire CEO Alexander Harriman is about the address his new employees at the company orientation. His eyes are drawn to a pretty blonde with the face that’s haunted his dreams since Friday. Claire. Next on the meeting’s agenda: Rule No. 5. Relationships between employees are forbidden and will result in termination.
A ninja bike roared past Claire Davenport, breaking her reverie as she drove toward Miami. She had the top down and was trying to enjoy the warm spring evening as she headed toward the beach to meet her girlfriends for a much-needed drink after a grueling week. She took a deep breath and tried to relax, but a second and a third ninja passed, one on either side of her Mini Cooper, rattling her with the noise and the suddenness of their approach.
“What the hell?” she muttered. “It's like they do this shit on purpose.”
She took another deep breath, as her yoga teacher advised, to calm herself in stressful situations. That didn't help, but once she reached the peak of the bridge leading to the beach and caught sight of the full expanse of Biscayne Bay, she felt her muscles relax and her mind clear. The waterway was calm, and the lights of the homes along the shore sparkled brightly in the night.
She closed her eyes for a second to inhale deeply and allow peaceful thoughts to replace the ones that were taunting her. A calmness began to emerge when once again a ninja appeared from nowhere, passing her dangerously close in the lane to her right.
Startled, she jumped inches off her seat and turned her head to glare at the intruder just as he passed her, catching sight of him checking her out. As if to defy her or try to impress, he cut in front of her and pulled a wheelie.
“Really? What a fucking asshole!” She tried to calm herself as he shot ahead once both wheels were once again on the ground.
She could see him weaving in and out of traffic, and lost of sight of him in the darkness. Her exit was coming up and she turned her attention to the road ahead just in time to make the turn. As she pulled up to the light, she saw the ninja bike stopped ahead of her. She pulled up close behind him, hoping her headlights would create a glare in his rearview mirrors.
He seemed unperturbed. Her lights also illuminated his shirt, and she leaned in to read what was written on the back of his shirt.
“If you can read this, the bitch fell off.”
She rolled her eyes and chuckled at the same time. He took off the moment the light turned green, and she continued on her way. Good story to tell her friends, if she could ever get through the damn traffic.
Almost an hour later, Claire spotted her friends in the dim light of Charli's, the trendy new hotspot on the beach. It was a miracle that she could find them at all, and she was grateful that they had found a table in the front, since the nightclub had two bars separated by the dance floor. If her friends had been somewhere in the back, it could have taken her much longer to find them.
“Hey, you guys! Someone give me a sip of her drink, please. I need one now!” she said.
“Here, finish mine,” Danica said, handing her a tall glass. “I've got another one on the way. You can order something when the waiter gets back.”
Claire threw down whatever was in the glass and made a face. “Ugh, sweet! But, thanks, I needed that.”
She squeezed in on the end of the booth where six girls were arrayed in their finest club wear. Being petite, her small butt managed to fit on the end of the padded bench. It didn't matter if she wasn't comfortable. One or two drinks and she'd be on the dance floor.
She ordered two shots of tequila with beer chasers so she could catch up to her friends. After consuming the two shots and one beer quickly, Claire loosened up and was ready to let off some steam.
“Who wants to dance?” she said, getting up.
“I do, but sit a minute. I'm almost finished with this drink,” Jillian said.
“All right, but hurry,” Claire said, flopping back down.
“So, how'd your week go, Claire? We've all done the dump. Sorry you missed it, but at least we get to hear yours.”
Claire sat back against the padded cushion of the bench. “I'll make it quick. Justin and I broke up, this time for good. I can't take one more lecture from him about being sensible and getting a real job.”
She watched as her friends all leaned in to get the dirt.
“This all came after I told him I'd gotten a job for the summer being a receptionist at a luxury car dealership and plan to continue there part time in the fall when I start grad school.”
“Why would he object to that?” Joslyn asked.
“Justin thinks getting a Masters in Creative Writing is a waste of time, and that I should take business courses, journalism, or go into teaching. Honestly, you'd think he was born in 1950 or something. According to him, I'll never make a living being a writer, and I was just wasting our time. Get that? He said 'our' time.”
“He's a jerk,” said Danica. “Good for you, Claire. So what's next, then?”
Claire took another gulp from her mug. “Real quick, because I want to dance. OK, got this job, and they said it was no problem to go part time in the fall. Sounds like a win-win for me. I get to spend my days in a showroom filled with beautiful cars and rich people. Being a receptionist isn’t too stressful, so it won't interfere with the work I'll have from the night classes I'm taking this summer, or my fall schedule, when I go to school full time. And the general manager who interviewed me said I could even write while I was there, as long as the place wasn't busy.”
“Awesome sauce,” said Jillian. She was seated next to Claire and gave her a playful push. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let's dance!”
Claire downed the rest of her beer. “I’m so ready.”
Jillian leaned in close to Claire as they headed to the dance floor and almost yelled in her ear to be heard over the music. “When do you start your new job?”
Claire put her head close to Jillian's ear. “Monday, unfortunately. So I only have the next few days to totally let loose. Come on, let's get started.” She pulled her friend onto the dance floor.
It was close to one o'clock and the scene at Charli's was wild. The pulse of the music could be felt through the dance floor, which was mostly populated with women dancing with each other.
“Perfect,” thought Claire. “Just what I need to unwind.”
She threw her arms up, closed her eyes, and let the beat take control. One song blended into the next and soon the rest of Claire's friends joined them.
A crowd had gathered around them as they bumped and gyrated. The girls had been going out as a group throughout their college years and had developed their own dance moves and routines, which they loved to display for the club crowds. Claire wasn't sure if it was a particularly crazy night, or just the way she felt now that she had graduated, was free of Justin, and was heading toward a new life, but when the crowd began to chant, “Take it off!” she felt wildly uninhibited.
She caught Danica's eye and saw her nod. The two of them moved to the middle of where their friends were dancing and began to put on a show, holding each other's hips as they wiggled and swayed to the music. Keeping their eyes on one another so they could move in unison, they began to lift their tops over their heads. The crowd cheered wildly as the girls tossed their skimpy tank tops up in the air.
The floor began to fill with men as more girls removed their shirts. Claire was vaguely aware of a tall muscular man approaching her. She thought he seemed intently focused on her as he brushed aside at least six possible dance partners on his way over. Without looking right or left or asking permission, he put his hands on her hips and began to move in time with her.
Claire realized how big he was when she felt his hands almost encircle her waist, yet his touch was gentle and sexy. She looked up at his face, now close to hers, and smiled. Something about him was reassuring. It didn’t hurt that he was drop dead gorgeous and built like an athletic Adonis. Just how she liked her men: tall, with dark hair, blue eyes, and buff.
He was a good bit taller than her, and her face was level with his massive chest. She squinted. She didn't know if was the drinks, the swirling lights, or her imagination, but his tight shirt seemed transparent, and every ripple of his sculpted upper body appeared visible beneath his shirt.
As they danced, she leaned her head into his chest and closed her eyes, letting him guide her on the floor. He smelled of the outdoors, like he'd just been at the beach. It had a calm and intoxicating effect on her already inebriated consciousness.
She dreamily followed his lead and was vaguely aware that they were no longer on the dance floor. They were still dancing, but the surroundings were now much darker, and Claire realized she was in the hallway outside the restrooms, but he danced past them and around a corner to another darkened area.
It was here that they stopped, and he bent his head to kiss her, pulling her tight to his chest. Claire put her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to receive his tongue. He tasted of good liquor, she noted, and pressed her lower body into his. She felt almost under his spell and made no attempt to stop his hands as they roamed over her breasts.
She threw her head back as his lips moved down from her mouth, to her neck, and continued to her chest. One of his hands slipped behind her and unfastened her strapless bra, which fell the ground unnoticed. Claire was chesty for a small girl, but his big hands covered them with room to spare. Yet, he was gentle as he squeezed and tweaked her nipples, moving his soft warm lips from one breast to the other.
Her whole body was throbbing. His hands dropped and roamed down her sides while he continued to kiss and suck her breasts. She felt his thumbs slide under the waistband of her tiny skirt and sweep across her pelvic area. A moment later, she felt a tug and her skirt was around her feet.
He stepped back to look at her, standing before him in the dimly lit hallway. “What's your name?”
“Claire,” she said.
They held each other's gaze for several moments, and Claire once more felt enchanted by him. He was so good looking, but also something more. Commanding, but not threatening in any way.
She rested her back on the wall to steady her wobbly legs. He leaned in, supporting himself with one arm against the wall above her, and brushed his other hand lightly over her panties and across her sex.
“Claire, I want to kiss you here,” he said, pressing slightly harder and moving his index finger down, first to her clit and then continuing the path of her slit until he reached the midway point between her legs.
Claire's breathing was jagged, and she gasped as his finger pressed upward. Even over the silky fabric, his touch caused bursts of electricity up to her core.
“Does that mean you want it, too?” he voice was barely above a whisper, but she heard him clearly.
“Yes.” She spread her legs a little wider. His finger slipped under her panty and over her wet pussy lips, gently sweeping up to her hardened clit. When he pressed down, she felt a jolt of pained pleasure shoot through her.
“Oh my God, yes,” she screamed.
With one swift movement, he tugged off her tiny thong and dropped to his knees. His thick fingers held her lips apart, and his tongue took command of her pussy the same way it controlled her mouth just minutes before. It felt so exquisitely warm and demanding, and Claire wished she could spread her legs wider so he could thrust his tongue in deeper. She settled for swinging one leg over his shoulder and pressing her crotch to his face.