The Possibility of Trey (A Hellion MC Novel)

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  Trey!, my heart replied.

  I slowed my roll and went out onto the main sidewalk to meet him.

  "What's doing, pretty girl?" he offered, eyeing me, the new word on the boarded up window and then the truck.

  "Dad doesn't want to stay home. Says he's supposed to be with mom at the hospital," I said, my voice almost an emotionless drone. "He won't take no for an answer so I'm going to go drop him off."

  "And where're you staying tonight?" he asked as he maneuvered himself off the bike before sliding an arm around my shoulders.

  How could I forget how tall he was or how good he felt against me in just the few hours we'd been apart?

  I shrugged, unwilling to admit I didn't want to stay home alone.

  He eyed me again as he led me back to the cab and swung open the passenger door. "Need your woman, old man?" His question seemed to catch my dad unaware but I saw the steel come back into my dad's face when he answered.

  "Every goddamn day of my fucking life, shithead. But she needs me more."

  "That's good enough for me," Trey conceded. "I don't want Dallas here alone, though. I'm sending her back into the house for her stuff and she'll be staying the night with me."

  Dad and I did our imitations of fish with the opening and closing of our mouths, but Trey cut it short by turning me back towards the house with a slap to the seat of my jeans. "Hurry up, pretty girl. We've got a man with a mission, here."

  I don't know what Trey said to dad or what my dad said to him when I was inside packing, but by the time I got back to the truck, things seemed calmer like something had been settled. Although, knowing my dad, I suspected it was a tenuous peace.

  Trey helped me into the cab while asking if I remembered how to get to his place.

  "I-I think so," I stuttered, amazed by this turn of events.

  "Take Miller to the hospital, get him settled and I'll meet you at my house in a half hour. If you think it's gonna take longer, call me." I felt him peer at me but I was trying to process the steps I needed to take in order to get through the evening.

  My brain felt like it was filled with cotton.

  "Dallas? Stay with me, honey," Trey's voice said coming from what seemed like very far away even though I knew he was standing in my open door of the truck. I heard him sigh before I finally heard him rumble, "okay. Fuck that. Change in plans. I'm driving us to the hospital and we'll fucking take it from there."

  "Can we get a fucking move on or are we gonna stand around discussing the logistics of it all goddamn night?" my dad barked as I slid to the middle of the bench seat. Yeah, I'd known the peace wasn't going to last.

  "Hold your fucking horses, Mill. We'll get you there. Need to see to my girl first," Trey said as he slid in behind the wheel. I felt the warmth of his hand as he ran it over the leg of my jeans, his head bent to mine. "Are you okay, Tex?"

  I could only nod and it was true. I was feeling better knowing I could hand him the responsibility and he'd not only take it, but he'd run with it until it was as resolved as he could make it.

  The conversation on the way to the hospital seemed to be of Trey asking questions about all I did around the house and for my parents, with my dad answering. The only question I was given and answered, was regarding the last time I'd eaten. Which I truthfully admitted had been breakfast at his place. Trey had scowled at my answer.

  But it wasn't until we were pulling into the parking lot that I realized Trey's inquisition of my dad had been for a reason. "Have you looked into any of those VA programs, Miller? You know, the ones with home healthcare nurses? Man, those folks saved my parents when my dad was bad off."

  "Mary and I talked about it in the beginning after she came home from the hospital. But she said she didn't want no strangers rummaging around her house. And so I went with her decision." My dad's voice had lost its edge of anger as Trey had talked with him. "And then I just plumb forgot about it."

  "Might be something you need to look into," Trey advised my dad although his eyes were zeroed on me, watching my reactions. "They've also got shuttles that can get you and Mary to your appointments and discounts on housekeeping and shit."

  I just stared back into the beautiful depths of Trey's eyes as I listened, not really sure what I was feeling. His questions had uncovered that I was, for all intents and purposes, a single mother of three children—two who were disabled and one who was rambunctious, for lack of a better word. That I held down a full-time job and took care of everything without help or hope. And did it all without complaint.

  He made me sound like a flipping saint which I knew I wasn't.

  I was just a girl who'd been playing the hand she'd been dealt.

  Though, Trey's help with Drake and his suggestions to my dad showed that maybe there'd be a reshuffling of the cards.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It hadn't taken long to get her dad settled and then back to her place to pickup his bike. He'd made a point of hitting one of the hamburger places where he'd ordered and paid but had instructed the kid at the window to give the bags of food to Dallas who had followed him through the drive-through.

  And all the while , Trey's mind had been churning. His girl was being worn down by the life she had, the fucking responsibilities that had been thrust on her and with no thought by either herself or her family about her own life, hopes or future.

  He found it jacked up on every level.

  That shit was going to stop if Trey had anything to fucking say about it. The first step was already in play by getting Drake out of the house and then pulling the kid's head out of his ass. It was safe to say that the situation with Dallas's brother was being worked out.

  But the old man and his wife, people who qualified for outside help at minimal to no cost but who'd pushed that assistance aside and had, instead, given all the responsibility to their daughter? Who had been what? Twenty, twenty-one at the time? That was bullshit and when Miller had explained all that his girl did for her parents, it had pissed Trey off to the point he'd had to bite his tongue in order not to rip the old man a new one.

  It did, however, explain why Dallas had no social life.

  None.

  Because slaves had no personal life. And, in Trey's mind, that's exactly the role Dallas had been assigned for years. It was one thing for children to help out when their parents became ill or had special needs. But in her family, it had been become the norm, the expectation. And there had even been the hint of it being her goddamn duty!

  Oh, fuck to the no.

  Although on the shiny side of the coin, it meant that his girl was available, that she wasn't a social butterfly and hadn't slept around. While Trey didn't have anything against a woman who was sexually active and, in the past, had made sure most of his momentary partners were, he liked that Dallas wasn't. It made her…special. Choosy. And very desirable.

  They were eating their burger and fries at the breakfast bar when he decided it was time to move whatever was doing between them forward.

  "Tonight, you're in my bed. While the guest room was okay last night, I didn't like it. I want you next to me tonight," he announced firmly and felt her entire body stiffen for a good twenty seconds after he spoke. She sat poised with a french fry held halfway to her mouth, and he didn't know if the stillness was from shock, concern or from just being plain ol' pissed.

  "Are you asking or telling me, Trey?"

  "Uhm. Asking, I think. We can do as little or as much as you're comfortable with, but I'd like to hold you and I'd like to wake up with you next to me." He wanted to ease her mind after basically ordering her to his bed, but he either didn't know or couldn't remember the flowery words used to coax a woman in order to get her there.

  "I'm not on birth control." Her tone didn't indicate any negative emotion that he could pick up on and he felt his shoulders relax.

  "I don't mind gloving it."

  "Gloving?"

  "Condoms, Tex. I'm good with wearing a condom." Christ! When was the last time he'd had
to have this conversation? All the girls had known the score when he'd taken them back to the compound. The bowl of prophylactics on the bedside table provided the inarguable indication of how both birth and disease control were handled without having to talk it through.

  He watched as she circled another fry into her mound of ketchup.

  "I haven't been with anyone in a while, Trey. I might not be any good at it," she said, and he was convinced she was trying to give him an out. He reached out a hand and pushed her hair aside so he could touch the back of her neck. So soft, so reactive and vulnerable, he counted that tiny bit of skin as his favorite spot on her. He couldn't wait to uncover and discover more of them.

  "As little or as much as you want, Dallas," he repeated, using his thumb to stroke the sweet piece of skin beneath her earlobe. "You say stop and I'll cease whatever we're doing without argument. But I want you next to me."

  She was staring holes in what remained of her cheeseburger and he wondered what she was thinking. Was she imagining them together and how good it would feel to be skin-to-skin? Or working through the different positions they might enjoy to find their ecstasy?

  "Why me?" she asked finally, her head still bent towards her food.

  Trey realized in the whole of the conversation since they'd been in the house she'd not looked at him once. Not even a glance and at her question he got the reason why.

  She was nervous.

  Not about him but with herself. It might be because of one of those stupid girlie insecurities about a particular body part or that she wasn't wearing her 'special' underwear, which meant shit-all to a guy about to get some. But a nervous girl no matter what the reason, didn't usually enjoy the act as much as was possible. And he was determined she was gonna thoroughly receive pleasure when they finally did the deed. As much as he could give, as much as she could take and for as long as they both were awake and aware.

  "Because I like you, Dallas. I like the way we are when we're talking or when there's quiet between us. I like how you feel when you're pressed up against me. And I fucking love the way you kiss."

  That got him a sharp glance, a delighted look of shining eyes and a small, sexy grin.

  "And because it's getting harder than hell to keep my hands, mouth and cock to myself when I'm around you, pretty girl," he said, watching his words hit her, causing her grin to morph into a smile.

  "I like you, too, Trey."

  "Great. We have a mutual admiration society. Now can we go to bed?" He moved swiftly to gather up the bags and wrappers, clearing away their dinner before he stopped and held out his hand to her.

  They were quiet as they walked down the hall and into his bedroom where he turned on one of the bedside lamps. Her eyes were roaming as she took in the big room and the his huge king-sized bed. By the time they made it back to him, Trey read doubt in her eyes.

  Taking in the hands she had clasped before her, the hunched shoulders and locked knees, he stepped up to her and ran his hands over her arms before they settled on her shoulders.

  "What do we do now, Trey?" she whispered, starting at the HC logo on his t-shirt.

  "Kiss me, Dallas. I need you to kiss me so damn bad."

  *.*.*.*.*

  It was the most perfect thing for him to ask for. Kissing him had always been the best and would get me back on track. Back onto the rails of wanting to be with him instead of nervous about what was to come.

  Because I knew that what he'd asked for (although it had been a demand no matter what he'd said) wasn't just a couple of buddies sharing a mattress. No, I was well aware how he wanted me based on what we shared in the guest room. And, I admitted to myself, how I wanted to be with him as well.

  Plus, if he wanted to ignite the fire between us then kissing was the way to go. I'd never, ever had my body go up in flames like it did when I was in a mouth lock with Trey. And to be enthralled by the working of his mouth while he rubbed against me was heaven.

  His kiss in his room, unlike the other ones we'd shared, didn't start out soft and sweet. It was already primed and flared white-hot from the moment our lips touched. There weren't any soft grazes or gentle touches. Our mouths immediately fused and tongues twirled upon contact, causing the banked heat between us to blaze within me.

  My arms were around his neck and one hand firmly embedded in his hair to hold his face to mine. I was staking my claim and knew it.

  He tightened his grip and I felt my toes leave the floor as he stepped backwards, his mouth never leaving mine. I was lowered back to the floor and he seemed to sit on the edge of the bed but, with the angle of his head, with the depth of our kiss and due to the blaze that was building to a firestorm I was only marginally aware of the change in our position.

  When we let go, his head was lower than mine.

  "Christ, Dallas," he murmured before one hand caught the back of my head and his forearm went under my ass to bring me into his lap in a straight on position. Without being asked, I opened my legs and straddled him as our mouths continued to delve deep. I didn't even try to help my moans as the hard length in his jeans pressed against my pleasure spot. His hands moved to my thighs and dragged me upward as they moved to capture my ass, a hand on each denim-covered cheek.

  Once in place, it was his turn to groan. I pulled back, wanting to see his face to see the evidence of what he was feeling and got caught up in the pure pleasure I saw exhibited.

  The look there almost made me dizzy in its open honest desire.

  He wanted me in a major way.

  The want within me throbbed in response.

  He twisted and pushed us up further on his bed, all the way to the pillows as I was rolled over onto my back.

  "Okay so far?" he breathed, his eyes gauging and assessing whatever he was seeing in mine.

  "God, yes," I murmured back, reaching for him again. I felt incomplete without his mouth on mine, without his tongue inside. And I could feel the other parts of me beginning to beg for his attention as well.

  "Take your boots off, Dallas," he murmured between soft pecks against my already swollen lips. "Socks, too."

  We both got rid of our footwear but I swear our eyes never left each other's faces as we did so.

  "More," I groaned as soon as my feet were bare, reaching for him. I was so hungry for the taste of him, I didn't want to let go even as he tried to pull away.

  "Shirts, honey," he advised as if to offer an explanation as to why we were no longer feasting at each other's lips. I whipped my t-shirt off and watched as he copied my move, exposing his ink. I allowed my greedy eyes to roam over his skin, taking in the breadth and power of his chest and the compressed rolls of his abs.

  In the ensuing silence, I raised my gaze to his only to see him eyeing my sports bra.

  "What the fuck is that?"

  "My…ah, bra," I offered but my voice almost sounded like I wasn't quite sure what I was wearing.

  His fingers trailed from my collar bones to my waist as his eyes roamed over the different ribbing and panels. He was frowning.

  "I know it's probably not what you're used to…" I hedged as I squirmed to think up an explanation to prevent his obvious complaint. A man like Trey was in all probability very familiar in an up-front and personal way with all the bras and panties in that girl's secret catalogue. "But I need it for work."

  The question in his eyes said more than enough, and I couldn't help my arms from crossing my chest to hide both it and my boobs from his view.

  "How the fuck do you get out of it?" His tone showing his disbelief that a person could remove what I wore on my chest.

  "It's stretchy. I just slide it on or off."

  "It doesn't look stretchy," he protested, pinching the lower band between his fingers and pulling at it before raising his eyes to mine. "It looks…torturous."

  He wasn't too far from wrong with that assessment. My girls were of such a size that I was left with red indentions in my shoulders and ribcage when I took the damn thing off each evening.

/>   "No, really. It's okay. Watch," I offered, trying to sound optimistic as I curled up and begin to inch the tight spandex up, careful to not catch the tight band which encircled my ribcage in the mounds of my breasts. After a few moments, I had it up and over my head, slung to the side of the bed. "See. Easy!"

  But when I looked at him, his eyes weren't reflecting my triumph. They were on what I'd exposed as his fingers trailed over the red marks I knew were visible and that were starting to itch.

  "Fucking beauty," he breathed on a low note and I eased myself back down into the mattress, feeling his gaze on the unencumbered mounds of my chest as it seared in a straight line to the throbbing between my legs. He leaned back over me, pressing his chiseled chest to the fullness I usually tried to hide as his lips grazed my collarbones, sending a trail of goosebumps that seemed to culminate in my nipples.

  "Trey?" I asked but I heard the whimper, the need in my voice.

  Perfect red-brown met my gray as he slid his fingers to the waistband of my jeans, easily popping the button and sliding the zipper down. Which caused my hips to move upward involuntarily. Not to be out-matched and feeling his attention was too fully on me, I dragged my hands from his shoulders to his waistband.

  "I need to see you, to touch you." His voice was so low and such a soft rumble, I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or himself except for the fact we were staring into each other's eyes. I'd never had this before, this deliberate exposure of my flesh done in that way. Most of the times I'd gotten naked with a guy, it had been in the dark or, in a couple of instances, underneath the covers.

  This way, Trey's way, seemed more personal somehow.

  And, from what I'd gleaned over the last few years, sex was, if nothing else, supposed to be personal.

  Chapter Fourteen

  She was fucking beautiful.

  More beautiful in the creamy skin that she'd been born with that he could've ever imagined, than in all the fantasies he'd entertained over the last few days. A morass of curves, deep cambers between tits, waist and hips that made his balls ache.