I’ve always had a thing for bad boys, but never met one I’d sleep with. Just never felt safe around a true bad boy, to let him undress me and use me however he wanted. But that doesn’t kill the fantasy for me.
But when Daryl rode in on his motorcycle, leather clad and with rough facial hair that wasn’t quite a beard yet, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
I lived in the desert at the time, and it was a dusty late afternoon right before the sun went down. I washed the bookstore windows, for lack of better things to do. Not enough tourists in the middle of the week. To say I was surprised when a biker dude turned a wheelie and parked in front of me, was an understatement.
He stepped off his bike and took off his helmet, a brooding scowl on his face. He was more than a head taller than me, even in my heels. His leather chaps and denim jeans clung to his thighs in an enticing way.
Clung to ass too, which I stared at as he opened my shop door and stepped inside to the air conditioning.
My heart pattered. I wasn’t sure if that was from anxiety of wondering what such a man was doing in my store, or from the sexual tension building in my stomach.
I dropped the sponge in the bucket and followed him inside. I melted when he brooded at me. He was every bad boy fantasy I’ve ever had, rolled into one package. Muscular, good smelling, and big hands.
“Anything I can help you find?” I asked.
“A book,” he said. He shrugged a leather clad shoulder. “For my aunt.”
“Oh. Okay.” I was taken aback by that. Not what I expected from such a rough looking man. “What kind of books does she read?”
“Uh. The kind with pink covers?”
“Yeah.” Another shrug.
I led him to the romance section, chit chatting along the way. I had no idea what I said. Wasn’t important. He was so close to me during the short walk. He could’ve grabbed me by the wrist and turned me around into a fierce kiss.
But he didn’t. He kept his hands to himself, though I definitely felt his eyes all over me. I helped him pick out a number of good romance novels for his aunt, though he seemed quite knowledgable about the genre. Knew all the bestselling authors’ names, what kind of stories they wrote, how much smut was in them.
My curiosity was more than piqued.
He led me back to my cash wrap. Then he got a battered leather wallet out of his jacket and handed a credit card to me.
“Credit card machine is dead today,” I said.
He brooded at me, with a wincing smile, and took out a check book.
“I don’t take checks,” I told him.
“Well, shit, lady,” he said. “ATM around here somewhere?”
I pointed to the one a block over.
“So,” he said, “I have to go back into the heat and walk a block just to get cash?”
I leaned forward on my elbows, and jutted my breasts out. I wore a low cut blouse. He certainly paid attention.
“We can make a deal,” I said in the most sultry voice I had. The brooding withered, for just a second, and then he scowled at me.
“What kind of scumbag do you take me for?” Daryl said. But the scowl had something else in it. Curiosity. A bit of hopefulness.
“The kind that wants to strip me,” I said. “And then fuck the hell out of me.”
He leaned forward on the counter now, so close I could smell his peppermint breath and the dust of the road. With one big finger, he stroked a line from my throat down my chest. At my cleavage, he tugged on my blouse, pulling the thin fabric down, exposing more of my breasts and the black bra holding them in place.
That was it for me. I knew I wanted it from him, right now. It was stupid and completely illogical. But this bad boy was the right mix of cautious and adventurous.
Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long for him to kiss me. Daryl held my face with both hands. His lips were fierce and cruel. And then he turned surprisingly gentle and broke the kiss. My jaw and lips stung from the assault, and my brain was in a fog.
Once the fog lifted, I locked the door and flipped the sign in the front window around to read “Closed.”
“Do you have an office?” he said.
“This way,” I said, and led him back to the romance section.
The confused expression on his brows tickled me, but I got the sexy brooding look back once I dropped to my knees in front of him. When I had his jeans unzipped and pulled his monster cock out, that brooding took on a touch of mirth. I sucked off, right there in the middle of my store, amongst all the books. Ahem… the books with the pink covers.
He pulled me by the hair, away from him, and stood me up. Then he undressed me. His hands were rough. He practically tore my clothing. Once every last stitch was off, he picked me up in his arms.
My legs were wrapped around his waist, and he held on to me by the ass cheeks. Daryl fucked me like that. I bounced up and down his rod, and he held on to me as if I weighed nothing for him. Even when my hips bucked and got wild, he held me firm. I had three orgasms on his dick.
And then he let me down. He pushed me to my knees again and gave me the biggest load of cum I’ve ever gotten. All over my face. On my breasts. Some of it in my hair. Luckily not too much on the merchandise.
Daryl came in every other week for many months after that. Always looking for more romance books for some female member of his family. His aunt, mother, grandmother, cousin (who he insisted was female).
Not that I ever teased him about that. Much.
Only enough to get a repeat performance.
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