by Marata Eros
Painful.
I was dry, and he didn't care. Allen pounded when I said it hurt.
My vagina felt abused for two days afterward.
I didn't tell Sam what had truly ended it emotionally for me. I was too ashamed.
But why don't I feel proud now? Now that I've terminated an unsatisfying relationship?
Allen seemed hurt—that's why.
I lean back in the driver's seat and take a sharp, sucking inhale. Letting it out slowly, I grip the steering wheel with both hands.
Well, he hurt me too.
And that's the bottom line. Treating people like you don’t care too many times makes them stop caring too.
So I did. Allen says he loves me, but his chilly eyes don't agree with his words.
Then there's Trainer.
I groan out loud.
Trainer did for me in one hour what Allen couldn't do in nearly two years of dating: shared glances, hand holding, sex, eating together, socializing…
I wasted all that time on Allen, time I can't get back, in hopes that Allen had potential.
Trainer has more potential in his pinky finger, though.
My pussy gives a little sore pulse of agreement, and a giggle escapes me. The idea is so juvenile but true. Trainer has a monster-sized penis. When I saw that thing coming for me, my heart just about stopped.
But the look in his eyes told me I had to trust him.
I couldn't let this fragile connection that had started between us be snuffed out because of my fear of death by cock.
Another bursting laugh flies out of me. God, I need help.
I sober up when I realize that despite all his bad-guy attitude and manner, something deep down told me I could trust Trainer. He's not a predator. He's a protector.
So I welcomed him inside my body—and my heart.
I close my eyes again.
It'll be nothing shy of a miracle if I can finish what I set out to accomplish with him as a learner, which is how I think of my students.
But I don't know. The way he had held me after—until we were dangerously close to when Corina would appear—was every tender thing I'd never shared with Allen.
Then there's the simple fact that I sexed him in an elementary school, on a table. Completely unlike me. “Out of character” doesn't cover what we did and where. How come I even took that risk?
I'm not sure I can be his teacher and lover.
I don't even know if I have a choice.
There are things I don't know about Trainer. And the scary part is that I'm not sure I care.
I wasn't planning on hurting Allen or having him run into me and Trainer dry humping against my car in the public parking lot.
I put my face in my hands and think about how I fucked things up.
On top of that, I remember how earth-shattering sex with Trainer was. It changed everything. I couldn't remain the same after what Trainer and I shared.
A rapping of knuckles on the glass startles me into making one of those annoying girl noises. I yank my eyes to the window. Even in the poorly lit parking lot, I can see who it is.
Trainer.
Frowning, I crack open the door. “What are you doing here?” I ask quietly then give an uneasy laugh, adding, “You scared the shit out of me.”
His crooked smile melts me on the spot. “Heard you tell Allen you were meeting him here.”
That's right.
“Had work to do for the club, thought I'd come by after and see that you were okay.”
My brows pinch together. Of course I'm okay. “I'm fine.”
We sort of stare. The silence isn’t exactly comfortable, but it's not bad, either. I think Trainer's just not a huge talker. Even if he was born that way, it wouldn't have lasted long with his family life.
Trainer's eyes search the parking lot restlessly. They find me again.
“Ya still wanna be with me?”
Oh yes.
The crystalline green of his irises pierces the night like emerald shadows.
That's the Trainer I'm beginning to know. No pretense. Just straight talk without inhibition or filters.
“Yes,” I answer softly, heart in my throat.
His smile is as luminous as his eyes. Radiant.
Trainer opens my door the rest of the way. “Get out.”
Okay. I slip out of my car, reaching for my small clutch purse and turn.
He shuts the door and tows me into his body. “I was worried, Krista.”
I pull away slightly. “Worried?”
“Yeah. Don't like Allen.” His serious eyes search my face. I can see why he doesn't like me seeing Allen since Trainer and I sort of made us “official” with the christening of my teacher's table.
“Not that,” Trainer says intuitively, eyes still everywhere. “He reminds me of somebody… somebody bad.”
I don't know how to respond to that. Allen made me uneasy too—especially tonight—even though he didn’t say one wrong thing.
And maybe that’s why it’s so noteworthy. Allen should have been pissed, sad, or something. But he just wore this expression of resignation—like a mask. He was neutral. Too indifferent. Too pleasant. Pleasantly creepy.
“We're through,” I announce.
Trainer stares into my eyes for another intense moment then dips his chin in a decisive nod. “Good.” He pauses for a second then asks, “Wanna go for a ride?”
Huh? Oh. I find his bike only two spots away from the Fiat, sitting there like a dangerous metal bullet. It’s engine is still ticking from cooling off.
Why not? Slowly, I nod.
For now, I feel as though I'm waking from a deep sleep, like I was dreaming during Allen and I'm waking up to Trainer.
His smile is back. I can make it out in the discs of light thrown by the streetlamps.
Trainer takes my hand and tugs me toward the waiting bike.
*
“So I'm gonna give you the five-second lesson.”
Oh? My lips twitch. “Five-second lesson?”
Trainer gives a solemn nod. “Take a lot of shit for wearing a helmet, but my mama made me promise to wear one. I don't break no promises.”
“I don't break any, either,” I agree.
Trainer leans forward and kisses my forehead. “I like that about you too, Krista.”
He cups the mound of my pussy, and my breath sucks in with a hiss.
Holy shit.
“And this.” His thumb cleaves me between the thin folds of my fashionably ripped jeans, and my pussy gives a deep hiccupping pulse in instant response.
“Ah,” I breathe as he watches my expression.
“Like that noise.” He leans forward to kiss me deeply as his finger presses harder on my clit.
I don't care about lessons anymore. I just want to be taught by Trainer.
A total role reversal.
He breaks away. “Anyways…” His hand leaves my heat, and he turns, pulling a brand-new helmet from what he calls the trunk of the motorcycle. “I got one for ya.” Fine sparkles throughout the deep-violet paint glitter underneath the streetlamp. “It's pretty.”
“Safe,” he says, though he ducks his head as if he’s shy about the compliment I gave him.
“Yes, safe.” I put it on and tighten the chin strap.
“When I do corners, you move your body with me. One body, one movement.”
“Got it.”
He continues, “When I stop, just rest against me. We're taking a short ride, out to Orting. Prez has a place up there I'm borrowing. Guys have scraped—uh… forget it.” His hand rakes over his dark hair. A few strands refuse to lie down, and he flicks them back, re-tying the entire thing into a stubby ponytail at his nape. “I'll tell ya more when we land.”
He gets on and turns his face so that half of his profile is lost to the night and shadow. Trainer nods.
I approach the bike and place a hand on his shoulder. Whipping my leg around, I seat myself snuggly behind him.
Thankfully, I forg
ot to take the peacoat that Allen returned out of my car, so I won’t freeze during the ride.
Trainer hands me a hair tie.
With deft fingers, I quickly braid my nearly waist-length hair then tap his shoulder, signaling that I'm ready.
The bike starts with a roar, making me jump.
Trainer shifts slightly, and I put my hand to my heart with a little laugh.
He grins, turning back to the front of the bike. He'd backed into the parking slot, so all he has to do is take off.
But Trainer sits there for a moment. And I definitely get the feeling he's a still-waters-run-deep kind of guy. He's not reactive and thoughtless. Though I think if the right circumstances presented themselves, Trainer might react very decisively.
He takes my slightly chilled hands around his flat stomach and covers them in leather… and him.
My fingers have to be like ice, but he doesn't seem bothered.
Trainer warms them with his body as we speed off.
Chapter 13
Trainer
Feels good to finally have a lady on the back of my ride. A real one.
Not a sweet butt for the night, or one of a ton of club whores I can have. Krista’s not like them.
She's got real class. She went to college to get that degree that lets her teach. Noose says she has a good family.
Dated that Allen prick. I scowl at the thought as the cold wind blasts the uncovered parts of my face that the helmet doesn't cover. I smile in the next moment—she dumped his lawyerly ass.
Maybe for me.
Not sure.
We'll sort shit out tonight. I want to fuck her again, and I figure we got the whole weekend. But better than that, I want to tell her about Arnie and the court shit. The reason why we even met.
Krista's gotta know who she's with. I'm not a classy, slick guy who can bring her home to meet my parents.
Mama is a whore.
My dad was some dude who probably doesn't even know I exist. At least, he split before I was outta my high chair.
I work as a mechanic for the club. They don't care that I can't read. And the place before that didn't care, neither. But most jobs are gonna care. A lot.
As near as I can figure, I don't have much to offer a lady.
But the brothers have put some cash in the kitty to build me a small house in the foothills of the Cascade Range. Not too far from where Wring, Snare and Lariat live. It's not much, but it'll be mine.
I got money—plenty of money—but it's wrapped up for this court thing that might happen. So I gotta save the cash, just in case.
The brothers are fronting me. I pay them back when I can.
It'll be good to permanently get outta the dump of an apartment I was living in. Vipe's been good to let me stay at his cabin digs out here, but… I wanna start fresh. Have my own spot.
Rolling up the long, gravel road, I slow down to keep the dust from flying up. It's been rainy the last week, so the dirt’s not up. Don't want Krista sucking grit.
The headlamp illuminates the ribbon of green grass that bisects the driveway as it climbs the quarter mile to the Prez's small cabin.
How many fucking Sundays did I ride up here and mow the grass? With a small shake of my head, I answer my own question: too many.
Now grass duty belongs to Storm and whatever guy's dumb enough to sign on. Course, Road Kill MC took some getting into. Being a prospect for eighteen long months was torture. But I can't think of where I'd be without them.
Probably nowhere.
Carefully, I maneuver around an island of plants, carefully laid river stone, and a thick-trunked, towering evergreen tree. “Probably been there since the cabin got built back around 1900,” Viper said.
Wish I could have a place just like this. Don't need much. It’s got a bedroom, a bathroom, and a large area with a couch and a fireplace.
Kitchen's in there somewhere too.
Feel the crooked smile on my face—simple is good.
I park in front of the ancient wooden steps and look up. Pine needles shaken loose by the light breeze fall like rain all around the bike, smelling vaguely like fresh-cut wood. New growth isn't visible because in June, all the new stuff is just coming on.
Old stuff sloughs off when the wind kicks up. No sounds. Just the tick, tick, tick of the engine, still hot from the ride.
“Wow,” Krista says from behind me, inhaling deeply, then releases her breath on a sigh.
I hike up on my pegs, half-standing, and give her room to dismount. Krista sorta awkwardly falls off, catching herself on my shoulder. Laughs. I've never been with another girl whose laughter makes me think of music. Or crystal tinkling. Or some other awesome shit.
Flicking my foot forward, I swing the kickstand out and settle the ride. Dismounting gingerly, I watch Krista.
She spins slowly, trying to see everything, though it's so damn dark, I doubt she's having any luck. The breeze continues, lifting all the fine hairs that came outta her braid during the ride.
A rare clear night reveals stars above us. I gaze upward, enjoying the solitude. It's just me and nature.
And Krista.
“Is this your place?”
“For now,” I say, looking away.
“Hey,” she calls softly, and I turn, watching her walk back from inspecting the house. “I love it. Doesn't have to be yours for me to love it.”
Then Krista moves my legs apart with her hips where I lean against the bike, pushing her way between them. “I'm sorry, Trainer.”
I wrap an arm around her and tilt my head, eyeing her up. “What for?”
“I want to teach you. I'm meant to. But I also want to explore what this is between us.”
I nod, think of a joke, and feel so great about coming up with it that I can barely hold it in. “It's my cock, right?” I ask slowly, making the words crisp.
Krista bursts out laughing, small hands flying to her chest. “Well, it's not a bad thing!”
I draw her to my body, loving the way my words made her eyes twinkle. “Nope, like using it in ya.”
I feel Krista's smile against my chest.
“That makes two of us.”
She snuggles her face in deeper, and we stand there for a minute.Then I ask, “Ya cold?”
“No.” She shakes her head at me, only my heartbeats between us.
“Wanna go inside and talk?”
Krista leans back, studying my face for a sec. “Among other things.”
I feel a slow smile spread across my face. Hot damn.
*
I press the strange push-button-style light switch with my index finger, and with a snapping sound, a center ceiling fixture bursts to life. It illuminates the space, leaking light into the cramped kitchen.
“This is so cute!” Krista says, walking to the large river-rock fireplace that spans nearly the entire wall, leaving only a door at the end, leading to the single bedroom.
“Local rock, I guess,” I say, remembering Vipe telling me that his great-grandparents built this place by hand. Hauled the rock to make the hearth and surrounding fireplace.
People worked in those days. For every piece of their lives. The puzzle of their existence wasn't put together without sweat and tears.
Krista's palm runs along the polished stones in various colors of tan and gray. Some of the rock is black and jagged, giving the hearth a rough texture.
Never paid a lot of attention to stuff in here. It was comfortable, neat, and met my needs. Seeing it through Krista's eyes is interesting.
“You said something about your friends helping you out with building something?” Krista asks, turning to study me.
My eyes sharpen on her. “You don't forget much.”
Krista shakes her head. “No. The important things stay like barnacles on my ass.” Her lips curl.
I chuckle. “You're funny too. I got lucky, Krista. Meeting ya.”
She turns, resting a hand on part of the hewn old-growth log that is now a mantle for the massive f
ireplace. Viper said the tree was felled to build the house and that piece was probably just a sliver of the original. Every piece of wood used in the cabin's construction came from just the one tree.
Hard to believe.
“Not as lucky as me, Trainer.”
Krista's words bring me back to now. I need to get the rest off my chest. Now or never. I study my boots. “So, I gotta tell ya something.”
Krista glides to where I stand. “Do I need to sit down?” she asks with a little laugh, obviously trying to make the moment less serious. Her gray eyes seem deep with only the center ceiling light to illuminate them.
My eyes hold hers. “Maybe.”
We walk to the couch and sit down. “So the reason I gotta take this reading thing with you is because I might have court come up soon.”
Krista's dark-brown eyebrows pull together. “This is a first time thing for me too, Trainer. I mean…” She whips the tail of her messy braid behind her back. “I've only taught early elementary before now, and the details of your past, and that of Dwayne and Corina, have been purposely kept from me. I just know I need to teach.” She takes my hand, and I fold it inside mine.
Actually, her hands are so small, it's a joke—her holding my hand. I turn her hand over and cover it with my own.
“You don't have to tell me anything, Trainer. I feel like I do about you just because.”
She smiles, and that wonderful look of happy climbs right up to her eyes.
“Just because.”
My inhale is harsh. “Gotta come clean, Krista.”
She squeezes my hand. “Okay.”
“So there was a hot chick in a bar…”
Krista's brow rises in a delicate arch.
Yeah. Better rip off the Band-Aid. “And we were gonna hook up.”
The other eyebrow rises, joining the first.
Shit. I rake my hand through my hair, tearing out the hairband thing and snapping it. “Anyways, long story short, I tore into three guys in the parking lot that were making her do a bad thing.” I look up again, and Krista has a soft look to her face. “Somethinʼ she wasn't wantinʼ,” I add.
Krista squeezes my hand. “Go on.”
“So I hurt ʼem pretty good. Next thing I know, about a year later, they start talking about how the lady was willing.”