Rip's Baby: Hounds of Hades MC

by Nicole Fox

  I blushed, remembering hotly the things that Rip had done to me the previous night. I wondered if things were always like that with him—if he was always so domineering and demanding. I kind of hoped that he was. I mean, I imagined that sweet sex with him might be just as fulfilling, but there was just a little extra something, seeing Rip the way that he must be, deep down, underneath it all.

  I had to stop thinking about it, I realized, as I very nearly fumbled the same piece for the third time.

  “Where the hell is your head today, Jessi?” Rip asked peevishly, and I couldn't keep from blinking back tears at the sharp tone of his rebuke. For a fleeting moment, I imagined that there was something soft and speculative in his gaze, as though he might feel bad about upsetting me, but it was gone before I could determine if maybe I'd only imagined it.

  It was all so confusing.

  Later that afternoon, as I was trying to track down the last of the parts that we would need for J.T.'s bike—at least for now—Rip let out a frustrated growl from the other side of the shop. “Mick, this-” He broke off, tossing a wrench across half the shop, letting it fall with a clatter against the concrete floor.

  “Hey, now,” Dad said, frowning at the man.

  “Look, why don't you let Jessi do this?” Rip snapped. “Her fingers are far nimbler than mine, and she'd be a great asset if you didn't have her doing the most menial tasks ever at all times.” He looked over at me. “What are you even doing right now?” he asked.

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “Trying to buy the last of the parts that we're going to need,” I told him. “We still need-”

  “Half of those parts we aren't going to need until weeks from now,” Rip interrupted. “There are far more important things that you could be working on right now. Like helping me out with-”

  “I don't want Jessi working on this bike,” Dad interrupted, barely glancing over at me. I was sure he knew just how angry those words would make me.

  I scowled. “Dad,” I snapped. “This is my design, and it's my bike. I have every right to-”

  “No, Jessi,” he said, his eyes blazing with an anger that I had never seen there before. “You went behind my back to make sure that your design was the one that J.T. chose—no doubt only because Rip vouched for it. You're lucky that I've agreed to build from your design, rather than kicking you out of the shop as I ought to do. If you were working for a big automotive company and you pulled a stunt like that-”

  “I didn't do anything, Dad,” I protested. “Rip is the one who submitted my design to J.T. I didn't even know that he had done that until the same time that you did. And-”

  Dad scowled even more darkly. “Hush, Jessi,” he said, and I quelled immediately, giving Rip a helpless look.

  Rip looked as though he wanted to say something but didn't quite dare, and I wondered if his sudden silence had anything to do with what we'd gotten up to the previous night. If it hadn't been for that, I was sure that he would have stood up to my Dad and made sure that I could work on the bike.

  I wondered if maybe in fucking Rip, I had lost a very powerful potential ally around the shop. But it was too late to go back now.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rip

  I should have known that screwing Jessi was just too good to be true. She'd led me to believe, that night, that she was the perfect sort of one-night stand. She’d pretended as though she didn't have a care in the world, as though she was reckless, as though nothing would change between us. But that couldn't have been further from the truth, I was coming to realize that Sunday morning.

  She wasn't frosty toward me, per se. But she wasn't particularly friendly towards me either. I mean, she'd barely said good morning to me. It made me roll my eyes, but really, I hadn't expected any better from her, so I tried to convince myself that it really didn't matter.

  It was her silence that bugged me the most. I didn't know why she wouldn't stand up to her father, or why she wasn't cracking jokes like she normally did. But it was driving me nuts.

  It was only when she started to almost cry, after I'd snapped at her, that I started to wonder if maybe she had more feelings tied up in this than she had originally let on.

  And that worried me.

  See, I wasn't the kind of guy to deal with feelings. Sure, I was certain that I'd left a trail of broken hearts behind me. I was sure that there had been women who I'd slept with who had thought that maybe this was forever and who then had been disappointed when I'd moved on to someone new. But, usually, I was able to cut those women out of my life at the first sign of clinginess.

  Not only was I not able to shut Jessi out of my life, given our current work situation and the shop, but I honestly didn't really want to shut her out either.

  I wasn't sure what to do about that.

  # # #

  A few days later, I'd had about all I could stand of Mick's pointed questions about Jessi, because of course he knew that she had snuck out on Saturday night. There was no way that she was good enough at sneaking out that he hadn't been able to catch her in the act. And given that Jessi had already told him that she planned to come over to the Hounds' clubhouse, it must have been obvious where she had gone.

  Of course, because Mick had no proof and because I was the only one helping him make his deadlines at the moment, he couldn't fire me. But that didn't mean that I was immune to his suspicions.

  “Look, I like Jessi, okay?” I gruffly admitted one afternoon. I was working on changing the oil of another bike—a task that Mick loved to assign me, I had realized, given that it was notoriously messy. But I didn't mind; I liked getting my hands on things around the shop and making them run smoothly again. Oil was just one part of that.

  Mick stared at me for a long moment. “Don't you lay a fucking hand on her, or I swear to god, Rip Harris, I will castrate you. I don't care what sorts of connections you have with the Hounds of Hades or anyone else, I will castrate you.”

  I grinned a little, having expected that response. Of course the man was protective of his daughter. And it wasn't like I was any dad's idea of a good catch.

  “Look, you want Jessi to be happy, don't you?” I asked him. “Trust me, I think I can make her happy.” I thought back to the other night in the alleyway and smirked a little. “I'm not asking to date her or anything like that, but she could use some friends outside of school. You said yourself that she's getting a little too full of herself hanging out amongst those collegiate kids. -”

  “What would be in it for you?” Mick asked, rolling his eyes. “Of course—a good orgasm or two. You'd use my daughter like toilet paper and then you'd be done with her. I've heard your stories about your conquests. And my daughter is not going to be just another one of your whores.” His eyes glittered dangerously, and for a moment, I could see precisely why the Hounds of Hades did so much business with this man. I had a feeling that J.T. must respect him—and now I knew it was likely because the man was fiercely loyal and ready to go to battle if and only if it was necessary.

  I paused, frowning. Because, see, normally that was the way I used women. He was right. He had heard enough of my stories. But at the same time, there was something about Saturday night that had left me aching inside, craving more of her body. I'd tried to go out with a different woman on Tuesday night, but I'd left midway through the evening, finding that I just wasn't interested in her and that I was comparing her curves to the ones that were always hidden beneath Jessi's work attire.

  “You've already slept with her,” Mick realized flatly.

  I was so startled that I dropped the wrench that I'd been using. “Yeah,” I admitted a bit sheepishly, not sure why I felt embarrassed to tell him that even though I had told him about all those women before.

  Mick gave me a piercing look and then pointed a finger at me. “Rip Harris, I swear to God-”

  “Hey, what's going on?”

  Speak of the devil. It was Jessi herself coming into the shop just then, dropping her bag like she always did,
seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room. Mick and I both swung around to face her, and I couldn't help staring, not with the leer that I normally fixed her with, but with something more appreciative of her beauty rather than her sexuality.

  Clearly something was wrong with me.

  “My afternoon class got cancelled, so I figured I'd come home and log a few extra hours,” she said. “And maybe then I could stay out past curfew one night this weekend?”

  I was surprised to see her eyes flicker towards me as she said that last bit.

  Mick looked like he wanted to get angry with her but was restraining himself. “Well, seeing as how you already disobeyed me and went out last Saturday night, I'd say that these extra hours count towards that,” he said.

  Jessi stared at him in disbelief. “Dad,” she complained. “That's not fair! I-”

  “You're walking on very thin ice, Jessi,” Mick interrupted. “If you want to continue going to university and-”

  “Okay, okay,” Jessi said, but I didn't miss the half-desperate look that she shot my way. Was she hoping that I would intervene on her behalf? Was she maybe desperate to have me fill her up once more? I wanted to get her alone and ask her, but there was no way that was going to happen with Mick's watchful eyes following us around the shop.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jessi

  It was another Saturday night, and I was back at the Hounds of Hades clubhouse. I knew I shouldn't be there, and especially not when Dad seemed to have realized that I had snuck out the last weekend to meet Rip. But at the same time, I couldn't help myself. I was a fly drawn to the bright light.

  The bouncer at the door recognized me when I nervously crossed the street, and he let me inside without my having to say anything. I blushed a little as I passed him, realizing that from where he was standing, he must have been able to hear every moment of Rip's and my fucking the previous weekend.

  The thought turned me on in ways that I couldn't even begin to describe.

  I looked around the smoky bar, hoping desperately that Rip would be there again that night. Because if he wasn't, what was I going to do? Sure, I knew another couple guys from the club as they'd been in the shop to get work done on their bikes, but that didn't mean that I felt comfortable hanging out with any of them. And I could feel some Hollywood horror lurking in the back of my mind, insisting that the other guys in the club probably already knew what Rip had done to me the previous weekend and that they would want to do the same things to me as well.

  So it was a relief when my eyes found Rip. He was sitting back at a different table this time, surrounded by guys, rather than being alone with some busty woman. I was a bit surprised, but it also made me wonder if I was intruding. Maybe he had something important going on that night and he wouldn't have time for me.

  Maybe I should have messaged him first, before just showing up in the clubhouse.

  One of Rip's buddies tapped him on the shoulder and pointed over to me, and I stood, caught like a deer in the headlights. It was too late to flee.

  Rip looked surprised to see me there, but he didn't look unhappy. He turned back, said something to his friends, and then stood up, coming across the room towards me. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” he asked, a dangerously predatory smirk on his face.

  I swallowed hard, not even sure what to say to him.

  And Rip frowned, looking fierce. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Did that bastard Ellsmith do something to you?”

  I shook my head and realized that I needed to find some sort of verbal answer or else he wouldn't know which of those questions I was answering. I cleared my throat, which somehow felt rusty from disuse. “I'm fine,” I told him thickly. “Really, Rip, I'm fine. It has nothing to do with Gary. I just...” I trailed off. I just what? Wanted him to take me out into the alley and repeat what he had done to me the other night?

  “Come on, let's sit down. I'll get you a drink,” Rip said, nudging me over towards the corner that we'd occupied the previous Saturday night. I wondered if that was his spot with all his women, but realized I didn't want to know.

  After a few minutes, Rip came back and set a drink down in front of me. “All right,” he said, sitting down across from me, rather than next to me. I frowned a little, missing the warmth of his arm slung over my shoulders or the way that our thighs had pressed together before. The rejection stung a little, until I heard what he was saying.

  “Jessi, I like you, okay, but I'm not a dating kind of guy.”

  I snorted and shook my head. “And thank fuck for that, Rip,” I said. I shook my head. “Honestly, I shouldn't even be here. I shouldn't have let you...” I shuddered a little, remembering the things that I had let him do to me. Things that I would happily have him do to me again, if I had the chance.

  “So why are you here?” Rip asked.

  “Guys aren't the only ones who need to let off some steam sometimes,” I informed him, tossing my hair a little, trying to appear nonchalant about this whole thing. But that bravado only lasted so long. I ducked my head and looked up at him through my eyelashes. “I was kind of hoping for a repeat performance.”

  Rip looked consideringly at me and then smiled sharply, showing his teeth. “I don't do repeat performances,” he told me. “But I'd consider a different sort of fuck. Get up.”

  I stood up hesitantly and let him lead me over to the other table. He didn't bother introducing me, though. In fact, it was as though I didn't even exist anymore, except that he still had a hand pressed warmly against my shoulder, guiding me along.

  He slid back into his seat, and with the hand still on my shoulders—which was now pressing down hard, digging into my skin—he pushed me down to my knees, guiding me forwards under the table in front of him. I blinked around me, wondering just what I was doing there, when it suddenly became obvious.

  I watched in fascination as Rip's hands deftly undid his fly, pulling his thick cock free of its confines. He was already half-hard, as though he'd been waiting for me, and I licked me lips a little, realizing that he meant for me to taste him like this—down under the table, surrounded by all his friends. There was something so naughty about that.…

  I could feel my own panties growing slick with every twist of my hand against his soft skin. By the time I brought the tip of his penis to my lips, I was already pretty desperate to get off as well, and I couldn't keep myself from fingering my clit under my skirt, through the flimsy, sheer mesh of my panties.

  I put my mouth around Rip, tentatively swirling my tongue around his head and pressing lightly at the slit so that I could taste his pearly drops of precum. But my gentle explorations didn't last long. Rip's hand came down around the back of my head, forcing me down further, until I was practically choking on his length. I felt tears sting my eyes, and I wasn't sure if it was from the choking or from feeling so dirty, down under there. All his friends had to know what we were doing.

  And I liked this.

  For a moment, my own pleasure spiked, and I couldn't help but moan around Rip's rod, glad that the sound was at least partially muffled by his flesh. But I wondered if everyone above us could hear me, if they heard the slick sounds of my mouth moving in a frenzy against him.

  Even if they couldn't hear those signs—when I sucked hard against his heat and fluttered my tongue across the thick vein at the underside of his prick, I heard him falter a little in whatever he was saying, and I heard one of the other guys laugh and clap him on the shoulder.

  But Rip didn't get up and bring me somewhere else, like any sane person might have. Instead, he stayed right there, his hand now stroking gently through my hair.

  It was all suddenly too much for me, and with my mouth still wrapped around Rip's cock, I came, shuddering hard as wave after wave of pleasure hit me right down in my core. My panties were practically soaked with my desperate juices, but I could hardly think about that now. I could tell from the way that Rip's balls were pulling up tight that he was getting close.

&nb
sp; I played with his sac a little and continued plying my lips around his length, even though I knew that I was getting a bit sloppy in my post-orgasmic haze. But Rip didn't seem to mind as long as I kept furiously bobbing my head back and forth along his member, showing him the attention that he deserved. It wasn't long before he was coming as well, shooting seed deep down my throat.

  When he had spent himself entirely, I pulled back a little, resting my head against his knee, feeling suddenly exhausted and sated in ways that I could hardly explain. Rip's hand came up to tangle in my hair, his fingernails lightly scratching my scalp, and I felt a rush of warmth.