Making Her His (Beating the Biker 1)

“Watching the stars...” Evan smirked. “Is that what you called it?”

“Give me that,” demanded Emily, advancing on Evan. She swiped for the journal, but his longer arms held it out of her grasp.

“So all this good-girl stuff you’ve handed me is a load of crap. You put out for this Luke guy, but you won’t with me.”

“It’s not crap. Nor is it any of your business.”

“I say it is.” Evan grabbed her arm and jerked her down to his lap. “You’ve been telling me ‘no’ for months now. Know what? I’m tired of it.”

Emily tried to squirm out of his arms but he was too strong. “Let me go!”

“Give me a kiss,” he said, holding his face close to hers.

“No! Let me go, or I’ll start screaming.” Emily kept trying to push him away. The smell of stale alcohol puffed from his breath and pores.

He sneered. “Who’s going to hear you?”

“The neighbors.”

“That old bat next door is almost as deaf as a stump. Come on, baby.” Evan pushed his lips to hers, covering her breast with his hand, pinching the nipple through her dress.

Stuck on his lap, held down by his strong arms, Emily didn’t have much leverage. There was only one thing to do. She clamped down on his lip with her teeth.

“Damn!” protested Evan, pulling his head away and rubbing his lip where she bit him.

Emily took advantage of his surprise and jumped off his lap. She lifted the lamp on the side table by the couch, turning over the pictures and knickknacks on it as she did so, and held it like she was going to swing it. “Get out!” She was breathing hard, frightened and pumped up to take a swing at him. All she needed was an excuse.

Evan glared at her. “Bitch.”

Unfortunately, that was not enough of an excuse. But calling her that didn’t help his cause.

“I’m not going to say it twice. Get. Out. Now.”

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he stood. “I see how it is. You can slut around with this Luke guy, but your boyfriend is another matter. You’re just a cock teaser.”

“Get out! Now! And don’t bother to come back. We’re through.”

Evan looked at her stunned, and backed away. She shook the lamp in her hands, and he turned and left the apartment, slamming the door so hard the pictures on the wall rattled.

Emily sank to the couch, her hands shaking. Her eyes filled with tears. She had thought Evan was a good guy up until he lost his job. Then he became jealous and possessive. Today was just the last in a string of nasty incidents. However, with him coming into her home without permission, going through her things, and reading her personal diaries, well, it was too much.

A timid knock sounded on the door.

Emily rolled her eyes. He’d better not have returned with one of his insincere apologies.

“Yes,” she called out, glancing at the lamp she’d set down.

“It’s Mrs. Diggerty.”

She opened the door a crack.

Mrs. Diggerty was in her seventies, very thin and wore her hair in a bun on top of her head. She usually wore dresses, but she always wore a full apron. “Is everything, okay, dear,” said Mrs. Diggerty. “I heard shouting.”

“Evan and I broke up.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“I’m not.”