Cherry Girl by Candy Dance

head, unable to answer over the tightness in her throat as she fought her tears. She did not mean yes or no . . . she did not know the answer. But then Rider was there, aggressively butting his big body up against her body as he planted his fists on either side of her to pound the car fender once before the sound fell silent. He held her there slightly bent over. Her body began shaking at the intimidation, and she felt the confusing evidence of Rider’s arousal riding the cleft in her buttocks. Her naked buttocks.
    “Were you ever going to tell me?” he asked again fiercely.
    “I don’t know!” Lisette cried, and then she gasped as Rider’s powerful body shoved her forward. She was forced to brace her palms on the fender or go down onto her belly. The position reminded her of what had just happened with Kid, and she could not help it, she whimpered and began crying. “Please don’t hurt me,” she sobbed.
    Shit. What the hell was he doing? Rider straightened, stepping back from Cherry with a jerk. A man had just tried to rape her . . . butt fuck her, and now there he was trying to intimidate her. His anger and . . . damn it to hell . . . his compassion warred inside him as he gazed down at Cherry. She had gone completely down over the fender, crying, showing the vulnerability of her shivering beautiful naked ass. He could see everything she owned from the slit of her dusky pussy lips peeking out between her legs to her cute pink ankle boots.
    She was real! Everything about Cherry was real. He'd been too angry before to even think about the reality of this fact. Ever since he'd spotted the specks of blood on the deck in the kitchen attachment and he'd followed the evidence to a cut on Cherry’s big toe. He’d been stunned, barely believing the proof that he had right in front of him. It had been too incredible to believe, and then Kid had arrived before he could think clearly.
    After that he’d been angry, turning into fury with his confusion. Why would a real woman do this? Was she trying to make him look like some kind of fool? He’d been vulnerable then and he didn’t like it. He’d been afraid that he’d embarrassed himself foolishly by believing Cherry was a machine. All the things that he'd done with her were embarrassing in this new light because she was real! She was flesh and blood with real thoughts and a calculating mind. He’d felt duped, humiliated, and embarrassed, but especially confused. All of it he'd hidden beneath deep simmering anger, until this moment when he was faced with the visual reality of Cherry’s own vulnerability.
    “What is your name?” he asked gruffly, stepping closer to her. Unable to stop himself.
    “L-L-Lisette,” she sobbed into her arms, which were folded beneath her face as they rested on the hood of the Mustang.
    “Shit,” Rider hissed beneath his breath. He wasn’t cursing her name, but her weeping. He’d never known it before, but a woman’s crying was hard to take. He stepped even closer, until his thighs brushed Lisette’s naked bottom. “Lisette,” he muttered, parroting her name. Not knowing what else to say. It was a pretty name for a beautiful and lovely young woman. Why, he wondered?
    Halfway resigned and halfway confused, he cleared his throat and he forced his jerky hand forward until his palm cupped some of Lisette’s short curly blond hair. Damn it, he'd always thought that he liked women with longer hair . . . and longer legs. Shit. The sad fact was he'd only been with a couple of real women in his life.
    “Rider,” Lisette murmured with a weepy gurgle as she turned her cheek, then her lips into his palm. Hell, she was kissing his hands again. It slammed him in that instant, how close they had already been. How intimate.
    “Shit, Lisette, what am I supposed to do?” he asked roughly, bowing beneath the pressure of his emotions until his nose touched Lisette’s ear as he bent over her back. Her lips were so tender on his palm and her