Jelai (July) Williams
It was a classic teenager move. Jelai was supposed to be at the mall with her friends, and she was, but she was also there to meet Mario. The fifteen-year-old should have known something was off when she had to hide her budding relationship with the twenty-year-old. He told her that her parents wouldn’t understand their connection, which made sense. Jelai was mature for her age, but she was also green.
Her upbringing had been quiet, safe, and sheltered because of her detective father and teacher mother. Both had seen the dangers of letting a child stray too far or be connected with the wrong friends, so they’d kept their daughter on a short yet softleash. Her mother, Diane, would always say girls matured earlier than boys. In Jelai’s mind, that made dating a twenty-year-old make sense.
For the past three months of their secret romance, she’d been in heaven, but that day at the mall, something changed. Mario had changed. The way he looked at her, talked to her, his aura. Up until that point, he’d been the perfect gentleman. Now, Jelai wasn’t so sure. It started with the dresses he wanted her to try on. Initially, Jelai was excited about him wanting to buy her things, but when she noticed each dress was shorter, more revealing, and tighter, she started to feel a little uneasy.
A frustrated breath escaped Jelai, and her head shook as she looked at the dresses Mario was picking up. At that point, she wished she would have stayed with her friends at the food court. The worse Mario’s dress selections got, the weirder she felt.
“Here. Go try these on,” Mario ordered, handing her the dresses. One was so low cut in the front and back the thought of putting it on made her giggle. “What you laughing at?” he asked with a sneaky smile.
“I can’t wear that, Mario. My parents would kill me.”
“They ain’t gonna know. You’re going to wear this for me.”
Her eyes rolled as he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “I don’t know,” she almost whispered through her uncertainty. “I don’t usually wear stuff this tight and short.”
“Just try it on. For me. Please?” When Mario kissed her cheek, she could have melted.
A small smile curved her mouth as she nodded her agreement. “Fine. I’ll try them on.”
“Good girl.”
As Mario looked through the rack of dresses, Jelai made her way back to the dressing room. She was looking over the dresses so carefully that she wasn’t paying attention to where she wasgoing. At the feel of a firm body against her, Jelai shrieked and looked up.
“Oh. S-sorry,” she muttered, eyes unable to peel away fromhim.
Yates “Wicked” Harris.
His nickname alone was reason enough for her parents to want her to stay away from the almost seventeen-year-old, never mind the fact that his father was the vice president of The Wilted Roses motorcycle club. Regardless of how much good The Wilted Roses did, her father held the same disdain for them as he did the outlaw motorcycle club that had been violently wreaking havoc in Rose Valley Hills for years.
Jelai had the biggest crush on Wicked, but because he was off limits, she knew nothing would ever happen between them. Unlike Mario who went behind her parents’ back to pursue her, Wicked appeared to be a young man of integrity and respect. Even with his and his father’s reputation, the moment Jelai’s father told Wicked to stay away from his daughter, he did. Since that moment a year ago, he hadn’t uttered a word to her.
For a while, Jelai hated her father, Dylan, for that. Eventually, he’d filled her mind with enough horror stories about the crimes motorcycle club members committed for her to feel safer being away from him. It didn’t matter that Wicked and his father weren’t the ones committing the crimes. Just the thought of being with a dangerous hoodlum was enough to keep Jelai away. That didn’t stop her from liking him or being insanely attracted to that wicked smile though.
Legend had it that it was Yate’s sinister smile and wicked fighting that earned him his nickname within his father’s motorcycle club. Though he couldn’t join until he was eighteen, Wicked had already become an unofficial member and was well known in school for riding out with The Wilted Roses.
Like always, Wicked didn’t say anything. His jaw clenched as he stared down at her with those dark, mysterious eyes. Chills covered her arms as she blinked and took a step back. Not waiting for words that would never come, her head lowered as she carefully made her way around him, quickly heading toward the dressing rooms. She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she slammed the door behind her, leaned against it, and exhaled.
Jelai looked herself over in the mirror and shook her head before trying on the skimpy black dress. She grumbled under her breath the whole time she slid into the dress, which felt like it was two sizes too small. By the time she got it on, she could barely breathe. The sides of the dress were cut out, exposing her skin. It was low cut in the front, dropping down to her belly button, and it was so short the bottom of her ass cheeks were spilling out of the dress.
“Oh absolutely not,” she mumbled, preparing to take the dress off.
Before she could, Mario was knocking on the door. “You got it on?”
“Yes, but there’s no point in me showing you. There’s no way I’m wearing this.”
“Let me see,” he requested, jiggling the locked doorknob.
Jelai unlocked the door and opened it slightly, not feeling comfortable enough to let him see her fully. The virgin had shared a few kisses with him and let him feel her up a time or two, but this was altogether different. She almost felt naked and way too exposed to have anyone’s eyes on her—especiallya man.
Mario’s strength allowed him to open the door and step inside. The moment he locked the door behind him, her heart dropped. Darkened eyes slowly scanned her frame as he rubbed his palms together.
“Yeah. That looks good as fuck on you. We’re definitely getting that one.”
Chuckling nervously, Jelai crossed her arms over her chest and took a step away from him.
“I don’t want this one, Mario. It’s too tight and short, and it’s showing too much skin.”
