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Chapter Seven
Peyton
After downloading the files from my recorder to my laptop, I started listening to the interview. Typing a rough outline of my story was something I always tried to do when information and events were fresh in my mind, and Nick Navarro was still fresh in my mind.
Very much so. It was twenty-four hours after the interview, and I still felt like he was inside of me.
I crossed my legs as I heard his raspy voice come through the earbuds.
After a moment or two of reminiscing, I fast-forwarded through the beginning of the interview. After skimming through a few of the questions, one portion of the questions and answers caught my attention.
“Most outlaw biker clubs are known for adhering to a set of ideals that celebrate freedom. Nonconformity to any facet of mainstream culture is also common within the ranks of MC’s. After the war, did you feel the country had let you down or wronged you?”
“Nope. I was just sick and fucking tired of the bullshit – the rules, regulations, superiors. I was ready to live life without restrictions.”
“And what better way to do so than start an MC?”
“I don’t have to answer to anyone. Society can suck my dick.”
I pressed the pause tab, typed a few notes about Navarro, and continued to listen. Minutes later, and I was more than halfway through the interview.
“When I was in school, I beat the absolute shit out of kids who took advantage of other kids. You know, the kids who called others names and shit? I ran ‘em down and pounded their fuckin’ asses.”
“You bullied bullies?”
“God damned right.”
“I like that.”
I pressed pause again, made a few notes, and typed a paragraph about Navarro’s soft side. As the recording’s topic of conversation changed from outlaw MC’s to sex, it dawned on me that I didn’t turn the recorder off.
Surely it didn’t…
“I’m going to fuck you senseless,” I heard him growl.
Then, his gravelly voice continued. “I can’t…figure out…if it’s my…big cock…or your…tight little pussy. But fuckin’ you…is like fuckin’…a virgin.”
I listened to the sound of him fucking me until it felt like my pussy was on fire, and then I turned off the recording and pulled the earbuds from my ears. My eyes darted around my bedroom as if the answer to why my pussy was dripping down my leg was somewhere amidst my collection of snowboards, surfboards, and skateboards.
The thought of having Navarro’s strong hand on the back of my head while his scent filled my nostrils seemed to consume me. I realized a full-fledged biker wasn’t the desire of all women, but his tattoos, muscles, raspy voice, and manner of dress were sexy as hell.
Who was I kidding? Everything about him was sexy.
As ridiculous as it seemed, I felt the need to see him again. Immediately. Knowing what he was sexually capable of and not taking advantage of it was a waste; whether he understood it as such or not.
I didn’t have his phone number, and the only way I knew to find him was to either go to the bar or drop by the clubhouse. Even if he wasn’t at the clubhouse, I knew I may encounter other members of the club, and the probability of obtaining some useful information was high.
I had little doubt that an uninvited stop at the clubhouse would get me into trouble with Navarro.
Probably big trouble.
The clubhouse it is.
Rolling down the freeway, ten minutes away from my exit, I began to fill with remorse for making the decision to go see him. While stuck in traffic, I reached toward the passenger seat, fumbled inside my purse for a moment, and removed the recorder.
I turned down the radio, pressed play, then fast-forwarded to the action.
“Say something, you sexy little bitch.”The almost inaudible sound of his whisper caused me to almost hit the car in front of me. I stomped my foot against the brakes, causing the Jeep to come to an abrupt stop.
