My Biker Boyfriend.

To Punish The Bad Girl.

Chapter 5.

A knock came in on the bed, jolting Aria out of her trance. She blinked back gently, rubbing the back of her palm against her wet eyes.

She sniffed back in, hiding the bottle of alcohol before walking over to the door.

She clicked on the unlocked button and the door opened, revealing a tall, slim lady in staff attire — a white shirt tucked into black pants.

The lady’s lips immediately stretched into a warm smile, the sight melting Aria’s broken heart.

“The president sent this to you. Happy birthday, ma’am.” Aria’s eyes dropped to the cake on the lady’s smile.

Her heart fluttered, but it was only a matter of seconds before the action died.

The smile on her face dropped and she glared at the cake like it was something poisonous.

The image of the previous day slipped into her head, lucid like daylight.

A feeling of embarrassment crawled against her skin. Last night he had left her in the middle of her orgasm, depriving her of the joy of it.

Not only did he leave, but broke her heart with his words, and now he was sending a cake to her like nothing happened? An unbidden scoff tore past her lips.

“Send it back to the president. I do not want his cake.” Her voice was calm, but the intonation held grudges that couldn’t be ignored.

The smile on the lady’s face dropped immediately like she had seen a ghost.

No one in the world had ever rejected a gift from the president.

“Young miss… you might want to—”

“I have made my decision. Send his cake back to him.” Without waiting for another word from the lady, Aria bowed politely and shut the door behind her.

The tears in her eyes burned, her chest tightening from pain.

Yesterday she had been stupid — so stupid she had allowed him to touch her and, worst of it all, she had moaned his name like it was her life’s long support.

Regret and shame clogged her thoughts.

She should have pushed him away, she should have said no. But how could she? When her body reacted to him like she had never known a man’s touch. Not like she ever had. Her f*****g ex-boyfriend never touched her — all he believed in was getting a blowjob, and for some reason, the breakup still shook her, because he had been her friend first before being her boyfriend, and breaking up with him broke her more than she could imagine.

Aria let out a soft exhale, glaring at the bottles of alcohol that lay bare on the spot she had hidden them.

The breakup wasn’t enough reason to have consumed such an amount of alcohol, but she didn’t dare admit that she had taken this much to mask the shame and embarrassment of being deprived of an orgasm by the same man who shouldn’t have touched her in the first place. The same man she shouldn’t have known the feel of his finger.

Draven sat on the chair closer to his window in his room, his c**k hard against his hand.

His thoughts were heavy, his mind clouded with worries. What was Aria doing now? How was she celebrating her birthday? These were all questions to help quench his intense desire to have her.

But he knew those were not the things that bothered him.

Since yesterday, he had been unable to sleep — not like he ever had the opportunity to, but it got worse.

Her scent wrapped firmly around his nostrils, haunting him like a ghost to its killer.

His muscles tensed at every thought, every ounce of him twitching to have more than he should desire.

He glanced down at his c**k, thick and hard with need, desiring a feel of her p***y.

“f**k!” He growled lowly, stroking himself gently to the image of her.

Fair skin, thick thighs, small boobs, and perfect legs that would do a f*****g good job around his neck.

His hand moved against his c**k, lips parted, shoulders tensing.

“Yes…” The soft groan mumbled past his throat, stirring hot against the air.

Draven was still stroking himself to the thoughts of her when a knock suddenly came in on the door, pulling him from his act.

His head dipped forward, eyes darkening with anger.

Whoever was interfering with his pleasure better have a damn good reason for it.

With a soft exhale, he slipped his c**k back into his pants, gritting from the pain of tucking himself away.

The door opened almost immediately and the maid stepped in.

“President.” She hurriedly bowed, but Draven said nothing. He just sat still, glaring at her with eyes that held brewing anger.

“Young miss… she… she declined the cake.”

Declined? The word rang in the air like a bell, echoing through his ear.

His grip on the armrest tightened, but his face remained the same.

“You may leave.”

The command hit the lady like a surprise. She raised her head slightly, stunned that he hadn’t snapped her head off her neck.

Without further hesitation, she bowed hesitantly. “Thank you, my president. Thank you.” And with that, she was off.

Draven’s jaw clamped, and a muscle in his temple twitched.

How dare she decline his gift?

The thought pierced him like a hot rod to the skin.

With anger brewing red in his eyes, he glared down at his still-erect c**k, rising to his feet in one swift move.

Perhaps, it was damn time he made good use of this bulge by f*****g the pettiness out of her.

*

The door to her room opened, and Aria jolted, springing out of the bed immediately.

Her eyes darted in the direction of the door and she stood still, frozen by the sight that welcomed her gaze.

She looked at Draven, whose eyes were strictly on the alcohol in her hand.

Quickly, she hid it behind her back, looking away from him. “Because this is your house doesn’t mean you can barge in however you please. Does the president of our Black Ripper Club lack respect for women?”

Her words burned at Draven. Or perhaps, the sight of her dressed in that skimpy little skirt while running her mouth in a way that triggered his c**k.

His legs moved before he could stop them. His hand grabbed the back of her neck, turning her to face him.

A sharp gasp tore past Aria’s lips, startled by the approach.

“Draven…” The word stuck against her throat as he slammed her against the wall, caging her between the wall and himself.

“You are drunk!” Draven snapped, his voice cold, his expression stern.

Aria glared at the bottle of alcohol in her hand, her body twitching gently from the closeness of his body against hers.

“Why do you care? Huh?”

Draven’s lips curled into a scoff.

“Care? I do not care what you choose to do with your life, but you dare not reject my offer ever again.”

Aria stood still, the frustrated sight of him turning her on.

Her lips twitched, curling slowly into a smile with every passing second.

Draven’s brows pulled together, his c**k still hard against his pants.

“What’s funny?”

“Are you really angry that I rejected your cake, or you just hate how hard you are trying to resist me, huh?”

“Aria!!”

“What? Did I lie? Do you dare deny that you do not yearn for me, huh?”

Draven stood, watching how bold the alcohol had made her. He didn’t like it. It wasn’t about the cake — it could never be. It was about the fact that he couldn’t touch her. That he shouldn’t touch her. But now was different. Now he had the intention to bend her over this table and f**k her hard, or bend her over his lap and spank the disobedience from her.

But he wasn’t the only one who had plans — Aria did, and right now she was slowly moving her fingers against his stomach.

Draven’s breath hitched against his throat, her touch piercing through his top and burning into his skin.

His eyes moved to the sight, but her hand was already on his waist, moving down.

His muscles stilled, shoulders tensing as sensation crawled up his spine.

“Aria…” His voice came out hard, but gravelly.

“Shhss…” Aria hushed, planting her finger against his lips. Her eyes moved across his face with practiced seduction, then she asked—

“Tell me… Draven… who exactly are you this hard for, huh?”

Draven’s jaw clamped, his skin burning from both anger and need.

Damn it! This 5’6 little inches human was pushing his buttons so hard.

Aria’s p***y dripped, her eyes widened slightly at the feel of his hardness against his jeans.

Her lips parted, a raw image of what he could look like flashing across her face. She looked up at him, the remaining words dying against her throat. He was big. No — so huge against her feel.

Draven’s lips curled into a smirk. He could already tell just what exactly was going on.

“What? Did you get startled?”

Aria blinked back gently. She wanted to deny it, to say she didn’t get startled, neither did she get scared by whatever it was he was holding there, but before she could say a word, Draven pulled her by the wrist, dragging her further into the room.

“Since you want to be a bad girl…” His voice was thick and gravelly. “I will show you just what it is to be a bad girl.”

With that, he sat on the bed, throwing her across his lap and yanking her skirt up in one swift move.