My Biker Boyfriend.

The Biker Club.

Chapter 9.

“Aria!!!!” Miguel called for the hundred-and-oneth time today, pulling Aria out of her trance.

Her lashes fluttered and she blinked back, sparing her friends a glance.

“Are you even listening?” Miguel asked, raising a daring brows.

Aria moved her hand to the back of her head, scratching gently before mumbling to them. “I am sorry.”

“Sorry?” A soft scoff slipped past Melina’s lips.

“If we do not know you better, we would probably think you are still caught in the hassles of your breakup. But girl!!!! What in the name of blush is the red mark on your cheeks?”

Stunned, Aria blinked back. “Blush?” she asked softly, feigning ignorance.

Both her palms moved to her cheeks and she rubbed gently, staring at them like she didn’t know she was doing more than just blushing.

Today was the clubhouse all-activities day, and while the boys were doing arm wrestling matches, Aria sat in the midst of her friends, dripping shamelessly at the mere thought of Draven.

She had spent her night dreaming about him. Not like she wanted to. But dude was such a rascal he made sure to invade her dreams.

It shouldn’t be this bad. But her poor p***y had never been rubbed like he did, and now she was clinging to the ghost of something that should never exist.

Miguel, her male best friend, pulled her right cheek between his fingers, dragging it gently.

Aria flinched painfully. “That hurts.”

“Well, now you know how much it hurts to have you drift away for an inconsiderable number of times.”

Aria stared at them both, letting out a soft exhale. “Forgive me,” she whispered dramatically, and then Melina rolled an eyeball.

“Save the apology for the next time you drift away.”

A soft chuckle slipped past their lips and they all settled into the moment.

Silence draped around the club like fog and, for however long it lasted, Aria could not be less happy.

While Miguel and Melina fed their eyes with the ongoing arm wrestling matches, Aria’s mind constantly drifted to the thoughts of Draven and the things his adroit hands were capable of doing.

Her p***y fluttered at the reminder and she hurriedly clamped her thighs.

Focus! she mentally scolded herself, but it was hard to even think of any word that didn’t involve Draven and the way his fingers rubbed her p***y to orgasm.

Heat rose beneath her cheeks. Dang! This birthday somewhat turned out to be the best birthday of her life.

Her eyes searched around the dimly lit club.

Nothing could have prepared Aria for a day like this.

Before her brother left for the club journey, she had never sat in the spotlight or even had hopes about seeing Draven. But now… now she secretly wished he would come sit in the open like everyone was doing.

Aria was still lost in her thoughts when Melina suddenly spoke up.

“So you leave with Black Reaper now?”

The air in her lungs vanished.

Aria forced the lump that rose in her throat away, blinking softly before turning to Miguel.

“It’s no big deal.” She shrugged her shoulders off, unwilling to write herself off.

For as long as she could remember, Draven’s name had always sounded like poison to her ear, biting into the deepest part of her heart. She could have sworn that she hated him. Well. She still does.

Nothing has changed aside from the fact that dude knew how to make her p***y speak the languages no man ever made it speak.

Miguel squinted an eye, reading her like an open book.

“What?” Aria asked, arms spread.

“Well… you, my girl, do not represent your answer.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Aria shot back, grabbing the water on the table and downing the contents.

“You look… flustered,” Melina pointed out, glancing back at Miguel.

“I am not.”

“Yes, you do,” Miguel added, dragging himself closer to her.

“What are you hiding?” Melina asked, brows raised.

Aria glanced simultaneously at them. “Nothing….”

“Girl… you do not look like nothing… You look like a lady whose p***y is leaking for a man she claims to hate.”

“Miguel!” Aria gasped, too stunned to say a word for the next passing seconds.

She brushed her nails through her hair while exhaling softly… a nervous habit that helped cool her mind. “Look. I am not dripping and… I still do hate Draven. Okay?”

Miguel and Melina exchanged glances then shrugged it off like they still didn’t believe her. Well, because they did not.

Being friends for 7 years was enough to know when something about her was off. And clearly, she was trying to hide some things away.

Miguel and Melina were in their regular back-and-forth tantrum when the air in the club suddenly changed.

Groups scattered, conversations faltered, and legs halted, bodies finding a spot to fit in.

Aria’s heart skipped even without the sight of him. She didn’t need to be told who was coming. The chill in the air was enough information.

“Black Reaper.” A voice whimpered with fear, and Aria finally raised her head.

Draven walked into the clubhouse, his presence exuding authority no gun ever could.

His leather baggy trousers ripped at every step he took.

His shoulders stretched the t-shirt that sat beneath his leather jacket, hugging his sculpted frame.

Heat rose below Aria’s belly, coiling until they formed sparkles, flying around her belly like butterflies.

Her eyes followed every movement he took toward his seat, watching as he lowered himself to the couch, eyes cold and devoid of all emotions.

The air in the room vanished and the conversations blurred. Her eyes dragged across his face.

Straight nose, almond eyes, center-parted curtain mullet hair, and lips that could unravel her body just by existing.

“Girl…” Melina snapped a finger across her face and she jolted, tossing a strand of her hair behind her ear while looking away hurriedly.

Miguel glared at her for a fleeting second. “You still hate him. Don’t you?”

“Of course,” Aria replied, cracking her throat.

Melina and Miguel chuckled softly, sipping from their wine.

The arm wrestling game came to an end as one brother smashed his fist into the table, shattering it with just one blow.

Cheers filled the air for only a minute before dissolving. Everyone returned to their seats, awaiting the next game, and soon, the music in the room shifted—bass heavy with wild, dirty tracks.

The music set the tone immediately and Aria knew instantly that the biker babe lap dance was about to commence.

Her cheeks stretched into a smile and she hurriedly adjusted her posture.

When her brother was around, he never allowed her to watch the biker lap dance. To him, she was just a young girl who shouldn’t watch shows like that. Seems he forgot she was more than 18.

Well, tonight, he wasn’t here and no one would dictate to her.

The room grew thicker with smoke and cigarettes as dancers found their group.

Aria’s cheeks stretched wider. At least, she was finally going to witness biker lap dance through the lens of her eyes and not through the lens of Melina’s phone.

Or so she thought. But the smile on her face didn’t last long when Chloe, the queen B of the biker club, suddenly walked over to Draven, taking a seat on his lap while putting a font that made her act a little seductive. Well… not to Draven.

The smile on her face dropped, reducing to nothing in a space of seconds.

She watched as Chloe threw her hands around Draven’s neck, leaning into him like she owned him.

The sight pierced into her chest like a dagger would.

Her eyes burned into them so hard Draven could feel it from his own end.

But he sat still, unmoving.

Chloe’s lips curled into a gentle smile. “Draven…” she called softly, trailing her hands around his chest while he sat motionless like an unmoving truck.

“Permit me to dance on you,” she whispered sweetly, raising her fingers to his cheeks, but he caught her wrist, holding her hand away without even sparing her a glance.

“Get off my thighs, Chloe.”

The smile on her face vanished and she clamped her feet to the floor.

“Why won’t you let me?” she grumbled out in a low, sickening voice.

Draven darted his cold gaze in her direction. “Siblings don’t give each other a lap dance.”

His words stung deeper than the denial. She yanked her hand from his grip, stood up, and walked off angrily, but Draven’s cold eyes remained on Aria, reading her raw like an open book.