Her fingers found his, then the button on her jeans. She released it, lowered the zipper and then she shoved his hand down her panties.
She. Failed.
His breathing became ragged, as did hers, but neither of them said a word as he found her throbbing clit and circled it.
The memory of how he took her, how hard he fucked her in the bar that first time... made her soaked.
It wouldn’t take much to tip her over.
She needed it. Craved it.
And, fuck her, it was him she needed and craved it from.
His teeth scraped down the side of her throat as he worked his fingers lower, parting her pussy, slipping inside her. But only barely.
There wasn’t enough room for him, and she wanted him there. But not only his fingers.
Shoving her jeans down her thighs, her voice was thick when she demanded, “Condom, then fuck me.”
When he obeyed without hesitation, she realized she was in control. Though, he would be getting something out of this, too, so he had no reason to fight her.
That didn’t matter. What mattered was, he had pulled away to drop his jeans and roll on a condom.
“Palms flat on the counter and keep them there.”
“No.” She couldn’t see him because he stayed behind her. And that made it even more exhilarating. Hearing him, smelling him, feeling him. As he wrapped a hand around the front of her throat, the other using his latex-covered cock to separate her ass cheeks.
Sliding down. Down.
She tipped her hips, giving him better access to find his target.
“Hurry,” got caught in her throat.
Again, he listened and didn’t waste time, finding where she was open to him, where she welcomed him.
“Fuck me,” she demanded in a soft growl. “Hurry up and fuck me.”
Still, he said nothing.
But she didn’t care. She was doing this for her. Not him. To prove she was in control, not him.
“Trip,” she whimpered softly.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Please.”
She shuddered when he drove deep with a single thrust. But she was ready for him. Slick and open. She rose to her toes to allow him a better angle since she was shorter than him. Though, as he began to drill her deep, but steady, him having to bend his knees slightly gave him a more powerful thrust.
With both of them standing, he couldn’t go any deeper, take her any more fully.
The fingers around her throat tightened and he tipped her head back to his shoulder while he fingered her clit with his other hand.
Being pinned against him as he fucked her thoroughly, his lower belly slapping against her ass, enhanced each thrust.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on his breathing which skirted across her ear, along with the soft grunt on the very end of each breath, at the very end of each drive up and into her.
She shoved her tank top and bra up, exposing her aching puckered nipples. She cupped one, kneading, thumbing the tip, the wave of pleasure shooting south to meet the waves he sent north. They crashed at her center. She gasped and reached behind him, grabbing a hold of his hair at the back of his head, her fingers twisting and hanging on.
She needed to hold on since she was about to split apart.
It was sex, but it wasn’t. It was more.
So much more.
So much she didn’t want to see or admit to.
She failed.
But he didn’t. He succeeded, grinding deep while thumbing her firm, slick nub, sending all her thoughts, her concerns, her worries about... him, her, them... exploding like a supernova in space. Pieces of matter shooting in all directions, never to be seen again.
His name filled her mind and might have even crossed her lips. He became her center, her focus, as her thoughts gathered and returned.
He wasn’t done with her, because he wasn’t done.
Both hands took a hold of her breasts, knocking hers out of the way. He was staking claim of them as he kept driving up, his grunts louder but consisted more of breath than sound. The heat of his chest seared her back as he pulled her against him tighter, pinched her nipples harder and quickened his pace.
He was close.
And then he was there. His teeth sank into her neck, his breath pounding against her damp skin, his grunt with his final thrust changing into a long, deep groan as he stayed deep, his cock twitching inside her.
She wanted to lower her feet and stand because her mind was still spinning, and she needed to ground herself. To not rely on him holding her up.
But she couldn’t since his cock still speared her deep. And it was one way he could keep control of her. He would pull out when he was ready or when his body forced him to, not a moment before.
Because that was the kind of man he was.
She had wanted to show him she was in control. He turned the tables on her in the end.
She. Had. Failed.
“Baby?”
She closed her eyes for a few seconds, but she knew she’d need to answer because he would only ask again until she did. She knew him and his type too well. “Yeah?”
Releasing one hand from her breast, he dragged his thumb over her mouth, and it got caught on her bottom lip, pulling it down enough so the pad scraped over her bottom teeth. “That’s mine.”
Christ, she should hate that. She should insist he was wrong.
But she didn’t because she didn’t hate it. It gave her a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
He slid it over her breast again, his palm skimming one of her now sensitive nipples. “Mine.”
He spread his fingers across her belly and then slid them lower until he pressed his middle finger against her clit. Another spot now super sensitive. So much so, she jerked when he touched it and whispered, “Mine.”
He kept moving until he found where they were connected and touched her there, too. “Mine,” he said softly, lips to her ear. “And that ass will be mine, too.”
She needed to shake off the hold he had on her. “What’s mine? If you take it all, what’s left for me?”
Without even the slightest hesitation, he said, “Me, baby. You got me. You can have all of me.”
Holy shit, she wasn’t expecting that answer. She also wasn’t expecting all those feelings from twenty years ago to rise back to the surface, as much as she’d been fighting them.
She didn’t expect to fall for him once again.
She failed.
She fucking failed.
A tear slipped out of the corner of her closed eyes. And she let it. She didn’t care if he saw it.
She didn’t care if the whole world saw it.
It was real. And it proved she once again felt something. That she was no longer completely empty inside.
Trip had forced his way in, and she failed to keep him out.
She let him in and, though she struggled not to allow it, he was starting to take root in what was barren soil.
Her Tree of Life was beginning to thrive again.
Now she just needed to keep it from losing any more leaves.
Chapter Fifteen
Trip followed Stella down the steps back into the bar. Something had changed, something had switched.
He wasn’t sure what.
He also wasn’t sure if it would last. But he’d take it. He’d take whatever she’d give him and try to build on it.
As soon as he could, he was getting her moved into his house. He wanted her in his bed every night. He didn’t want to have to come find her here. He had too much on his plate to do that. But he also couldn’t leave her alone.
He couldn’t.
He’d seen the struggle on her face after he’d released her, went into the bathroom to clean up and get rid of the wrap. He didn’t think he misread her.
It was finally hitting her, even though it was a lot later than he’d like. Because it had hit him almost immediately, like a sledgehammer to the chest.
While
he didn’t like fighting for what he wanted, for what was his, he also didn’t mind working for it.
Working to build something was one thing. Fighting for it was another.
He was tired.
He had started all of this with too many expectations. He hadn’t planned on Stella being one of them.
He held the storage room’s swinging door open for her and she moved through it and immediately behind the bar.
Cage was still sitting on the stool where they’d left him. Though, now he had an empty shot glass, as well as a filled to the rim pint glass of beer in front of him. Along with an open bag of chips and an empty plastic barrel that used to hold those round cheese puffs.
Trip also noticed Cage’s eyes following Stella as she approached him, grabbing the trash and the empty glass. Cleaning up after him.
While that was the bartender’s job, Trip expected Cage, as a BFMC member, to clean the fuck up after himself.
“Legs broken?” Trip asked.
That drew Cage’s attention to him. “What?”
“Pretty sure your legs fuckin’ worked to help yourself to snacks and a fuckin’ shot. Or most likely a few shots. Surprised there ain’t a fuckin’ empty bottle sittin’ next to you.”
Cage shrugged. “Told me not to get drunk.”
Trip shook his head. “Coulda cleaned the fuck up after yourself since you were in charge.”
At least the man wasn’t drunk, and the bar was still standing, even though there wasn’t one fucking customer in the whole place. The man could’ve called a few friends in to help support the bar. Trip would have a talk with all his brothers about making sure to encourage people to drink there.
Even though it wasn’t that late, they were going to close the bar early because he was ready to drop.
With a long day where he almost got shot, and now with food in his belly and his balls drained dry, he was running on fumes. Even one beer might have him falling asleep on his ride home.
And he couldn’t have that since he planned on Stella being on the back of his sled.
“Took you a long time to eat,” Cage said, giving Trip a knowing look.
“Didn’t just eat,” Trip answered. From the corner of his eye, he saw Stella stop dead and turn her head toward him.
“Yeah?” Cage asked, his eyes slicing from Trip to Stella and back.
“Yeah.” Trip leaned in closer. “Remember that.”
Cage’s jaw shifted and he slipped from the stool. “Headin’ home. Dutch will club me with a wrench if I show up at the garage late tomorrow mornin’.”
“Then get home. We got it from here.”
When Cage moved toward the entrance, Trip followed and caught up with him at the door. He pushed his palm against it to keep the man from opening it. Under his breath he asked, “We gonna have a problem?
Cage glanced back to where Stella was watching them closely with a frown etching her face. “You good, babe?”
“Yeah, Cage, I’m good,” she answered with a nod and then went back to cleaning dirty glasses, though still holding onto that frown.
Cage turned back to Trip and nodded. “We’re good, too, Prez.”
They eyeballed each other for a few seconds, then Cage held out his hand. Trip slapped his palm into Cage’s and they bumped shoulders.
“Careful gettin’ home, brother” Trip mumbled. When Cage opened the door, Trip stopped him with a, “Hey.”
Cage hesitated.
“Judge and I are headin’ to County tomorrow to talk to your brother. Offerin’ Rook a place to land at the barn. Like I said, you wanna room, need to grab one soon.”
Cage nodded. “I’ll think about it.”
“Do that.”
He slipped out the door.
Trip took a deep breath, stared at the door for a minute, listening to the rumble of Cage’s sled as he rode away, then pulled his cell phone out to check the time.
Still too early to close up.
Fuck.
He needed to get some guys in here to help with the bar and soon. How she was doing this six days a week on her own...? The thought made him even more exhausted.
But he’d see to it she wouldn’t be working the bar alone anymore. Or working late, either.
He headed back to her, where she was now wiping down the bar top. “Next liquor order buy double. Need to start stockin’ the bar at the barn.”
“We can’t afford it.”
We.
The first part sounded fucking good. The last? Not so much.
“We’ll figure it out. Order double.”
Her hand stilled for a second, then she continued to scrub the scratched bar top in circles with the damp rag. “Okay.”
Trip wasn’t sure whether to smile or frown. “No fight?”
“No fight.”
Thank fuck.
She tossed the rag into a bucket of dirty ones under the bar, then leaned her ass against the back bar counter, crossing her arms. He studied her studying him. He liked that her expression was soft while she did it.
“You look tired,” she said softly.
He wasn’t the only one. She had dark circles under her eyes. Regular sleep and food would remedy that.
“Had a long fuckin’ day,” he finally admitted. But she had no clue just how long it was.
“You can go. I got the bar.”
Maybe it wasn’t concern after all, but a way to get rid of him. “We got the bar.”
“I’ve been doing this on my own for a while now, Trip.”
“Not anymore.”
“Another night isn’t going to kill me.”
“Now you wanna fight,” he muttered.
“No fight,” she said. “Just fact.”
“Here’s a fact. You’re in my bed tonight.”
“All I have to do is climb the stairs to go to bed, not drive across town and out into the country just to sleep.”
“Wasn’t askin’, Stella.” He lifted a hand to stop her next argument. “You don’t gotta drive anywhere; you’ll be on the back of my sled.”
Her jaw shifted. Now she was working up for a fight.
“And I’ll drop you back off here in the mornin’ on my way to meet with Judge.”
“You told Cage you’re heading to Lycoming to meet with Rook.”
“Yeah?” He tilted his head.
She stopped him before he could ask. “Don’t even fucking go there, Trip. Don’t even. If you start questioning whether I’ve slept with every fucking guy in this town, we’re going to have a big problem.”
“You heard what I said.”
“Right. And not only am I not your ol’ lady, but I haven’t seen Rook since we were kids. When I got back to town, he had already started this last stint in prison. But I’m telling you now, stop asking.”
“Just—”
“Stop. I shouldn’t have to tell you this because it isn’t any of your fucking business, but I swear...” She blew out a breath. “I’m only telling you this so I don’t beat you over the head with a whiskey bottle. Understood?”
He grinned. “Yeah.”
“Wipe that grin off your face, Trip. Or you can go the fuck home without me.”
“That mean you’re comin’ with me without a fight?”
“Right now, I’m on the fence. Don’t push me off it.”
He pinned his lips together to hide his smirk. “Okay. Hit me. Just not with the bottle.”
“I’m going to tell you this one time and one time only, so make sure you’ve got your listening ears on.”
Fuck, she was making it hard for him not to smile. “Got ‘em on.”
She stared at him for a moment, annoyance making her eyes two light blue flames. Her next words out of her mouth came slowly, like she was talking to some two-year-old who just got his ass in a sling. “I haven’t slept with anyone since my husband.”
He covered his smile with his hand. He’d already survived getting shot at once today, he wasn’t risking a second time.
; She gave him a frown. “I can see your eyes crinkling at the corners. I know you’re smiling... Asshole.” She sighed and pushed away from the counter.
He body-blocked her and cupped her face, dropping a brief kiss on her pinned and flattened lips. “Thank you, baby.”
He hated to admit it but her confession was a huge goddamn relief. He didn’t want to be eyeing up every man who walked into Crazy Pete’s or every brother in his club, wondering.
He couldn’t help he was a suspicious fuck. His ex’s bullshit had planted that seed of doubt inside him.
Which reminded him, once again, they needed to have that talk. He needed to come clean about his prison time and why he landed there.
“Now,” she started, hands on her hips, “when’s the last time you slept with someone other than me?”
Oh fuck.
His breath was her breath. And hers his.
Their fingers were intertwined tightly, their clasped hands pinned to the mattress, sweat beaded on both of their foreheads, which were pressed together.
On his insistence, their eyes remained open and locked.
And that got him all the way deep down into his very soul.
He rocked his hips slowly, gliding in and out of her tight, wet heat. Hot silk that squeezed him every time he drove it home.
Home.
She was in his bed, in his home, and she felt like home to him.
Coming home couldn’t get any sweeter than being inside Stella. There was no place he’d rather be.
Especially having her whimpers and her cries filling his ears. Having her nails dig into his back and ass. Having her lips and tongue sweep along his skin. Having her thighs sandwiching his hips as hers tilted and met him thrust for thrust.
Goddamn perfection.
If he could, he’d never leave that bed, never let her leave it, either.
Last night he expected a fight when he told her to pack a bag as they closed up Crazy Pete’s. She didn’t even pause, didn’t argue. She went upstairs, grabbed a bag, came back down and, again without an argument, climbed on the back of his sled and wrapped her arms around him as he took her home.
Home.
She belonged on the back of his bike, too.
It was the first time she was pressed against him as they rode through town back to the farm, but it wouldn’t be the last.
Blood & Bones: Trip (Blood Fury MC Book 1) Page 21