by Megan Lowe
“I met with Dean Toms,” she says.
“You what?” I ask.
She grabs my wrist in an attempt to calm me down. “I met with Dean.”
“Why?”
“Because I was sick of seeing you so broken. I couldn’t take it anymore, Jax,” she says, and my heart breaks, and swells with love at the same time.
I hug her to me. “I’m so sorry, darlin’,” I say into her hair.
She clings tight to me. “It’s not your fault.”
“I love you so much, Bentley.”
She pulls back and cups my face. “And I love you.”
“So what did dirtbag Dean have to say for himself?”
“He really wants you on his team, Jax. What he’s promising, it’s really fucking impressive.”
“Like what?”
“Everything. He reckons he can take your career and catapult it into the stratosphere.”
“Really?” I ask, still in disbelief that she would actually do this for me.
She nods. “He wants you bad, Jax.”
“Well, who doesn’t?” I joke, and earn myself a playful shove.
“What do you think?” she asks.
“I don’t know. It’d be weird to be riding for someone other than my family, but….” I trail off. “What do you think?”
She blows out a breath. “I think you’re a rider who loves what he does and still has a shitload to give. If your family doesn’t want to be a part of it, then I think you should go somewhere with people who appreciate your skills, and not only want to utilise them, but make you into a star.”
“A bigger star,” I correct.
She rolls her eyes. “Right, a bigger star.”
“But Dean,” I say. “Maybe I should wait a bit, you know, see if anyone else is willing to take me on.” Beside me, she fidgets. “What else do you know?”
“Nothing, just that the offer Dean has put forth is pretty impressive.”
“Bentley….”
She blows out a breath. “Mav and I went to some of the other teams on the circuit. We thought it would be a no-brainer, you being who you are and all.”
“But?”
“But your pop had already gone to them, begged them not to take you on.”
“He what?”
“He’s just trying to protect you, to keep you safe in his own way,” she says, and it kills me to hear her defend him.
“So Dean really is my only choice.”
She nods. “He’s a creep, no doubt about it, but he seems to know what he’s doing and he wants to do it for you.”
I think about what she’s saying. It’ll be strange not having the Ryan Racing logo on my bike, but what other choice do I have? I don’t want to stop riding and as much as I’m not a fan of Dean Toms, he’s the only one who’s offering me a way to keep doing that. Plus, if he comes through with everything that Bentley said, then it’s a pretty sweet deal. I’m not going to lie, Dean creeps me out a bit and the DeanStars are a bit on the wanky side of things but it’s an offer, right? I mean, wearing some dicky uniform while I ride isn’t going to be too much of a big deal. And what do I care about some gimmicky branding and a fucking awful slogan? Those things aren’t going to affect my riding, they just give me the ability to stay on my bike.
“So we’re doing this?” I ask.
“I’m in if you’re in.”
“Can you pass me my phone?”
Chapter 24
Jax
I thought riding out for the first time as part of the DeanStars would be weird. I mean, yeah, the name is dicky, but aside from that, everything is pretty much the same. When I’m riding, everything just fades away anyway.
Once I signed with Dean a month ago, things just took off. He had me competing anywhere and everywhere. The deals with Weet-Bix and Milo came through, as did a sponsorship with Lexus, and an offer for me to design my own clothing line, complete with some of the most kick-arse sneakers I’ve ever seen. So life is good. Life is very good.
Currently Bentley and I are on our way to Vegas for a showcase. Oh and did I mention we’re on a private jet? Because we are.
“You know,” I say to Bentley, “I never travelled like this with my family.”
“So signing with Dean was a good move then?” she asks as she sips her champagne.
“Fuck yeah,” I say, kicking my feet up on the coffee table in front of me. “Oh, before I forget, remind me to pick up a souvenir for Buttons while we’re away.” She gives me the “you’ve got to be shitting me” look. “What?” I ask.
“A souvenir for the cat? Really, Jax?”
“She is a valued member of our family,” I say. “Our only child, for the moment. I’m sure she already feels left out, and now you don’t even want to bring her a present to show how much we missed her?” I shake my head. “That’s cold, darlin’.”
Slowly she puts down her champagne glass and turns to face me. There’s a mischievous gleam in her eye, the rose-gold colour of her hair only makes them stand out more. “Cold, huh?” she says as she crawls along the bench seat towards me. I give a non-committal shrug. “I’ll show you cold.” She straddles my lap before grinding down hard on me. My dick springs to attention.
“Fuck, darlin’.” I throw my head back. She leans down and starts nipping and sucking at my neck.
“This cold?” she asks. She’s got me worked up to the point where there’s only going to be one end.
“You really want to do this?” I ask. “Here?”
“I’m not a member of the Mile High Club,” she says, “are you?”
The truth is, I am, a couple of times over, but I don’t know if she wants to know that. “Come on,” I say, grabbing her by the hips, keeping her wrapped around me and walking us towards the bedroom at the back of the plane. I kick the door shut behind us. “Hmm,” I say, considering how we’re going to do this. In the meantime, Bentley is still sucking at my neck and rubbing against me. “Fuck it,” I say, and push her against the closest wall. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” I take her mouth in a punishing kiss. She wiggles against me, her hand travelling down to my fly. She undoes it, and I put her feet on the ground, dropping to my knees. Hurriedly we get her jeans and panties off, and I pull mine down before picking her up again and sliding home. “Fuck, you always feel so good,” I manage to grit out.
“Mmm,” she moans, her nails raking across my scalp.
It isn’t long before we’re both coming hard. I flop back on the bed, keeping her on top of me.
“So was that as good as all the other times you’ve had sex on a plane?” she asks.
“What? What other times?”
She gives me the “don’t blow smoke up my arse” look. There’s a very subtle difference between this and the “you’ve got to be shitting me” look. Luckily for me, I’m an expert on all things Bentley La Roche, and am able to tell the difference.
“You think I don’t know you well enough to know when you’re avoiding a question?” she says.
I smile and hug her tighter to me. “I’m glad as fuck you know me well enough,” I say.
“Me too,” she says, and kisses me on the nose.
“But it was a good distraction, right?” I ask.
She nods, and lays her head on my chest. “A very good distraction. But you still haven’t answered the question.”
I push her head back so she’s looking me in the eyes. “Nothing I did before you in any way, shape, or form even comes close to comparing how I feel when the two of us are together.”
I see her melt. “You can be incredibly sweet when you want to be,” she says, lying on my chest again.
“I keep telling you that I’m perfect, but you never believe me,” I joke.
Just then the captain’s voice comes over the PA system. “If you could please take your seats, we’ll be landing soon,” he says.
“What the fuck?” I ask as we get up. “We’ve only been flying for a few hours,” I say as I check my watch.
“Why are we landing?” I ask her.
“We’re picking up another passenger, sir,” she says.
Even her calling me sir can’t distract me. “What other passenger?”
“I’m not sure, sir,” she says, checking we’ve buckled our seat belts correctly.
“Dean never mentioned anyone else was coming with us?” Bentley asks.
“Nope.”
We land, and the door is flung open.
“Yo, yo, yo,” Bishop Royal says as he steps on board. “What’s up, my travelling bros?” His thick Kiwi accent instantly grates on my nerves.
“You’ve got to be fucking shitting me,” I say, reaching for my phone.
“Jax, my man,” Bishop says, walking towards me, “how have you been? I heard you’ve been working hard to try and win your Extreme Games medals back. Good luck with that,” he says, and slaps me on the back as he walks to the back of the plane. “Phew,” he says as he walks into the bedroom, “smells like sex in here.” He turns to face Bentley and me. “Did you two partake in a little mile-high action?”
“I’m going to kill him,” I say to Bentley under my breath. She wraps her hand around my wrist and squeezes. “What are you doing here, Bishop?” I ask.
“Didn’t Dean tell you?” He says as he takes a seat, reclining back in it. “I’m your new teammate.”
Chapter 25
Bentley
It’s official, Bishop Royal is an arse. Jax was right; the guy doesn’t have one redeeming feature. The minute he drops his new-teammate bomb, Jax is out the door and on the phone. His ranting and raving can be heard clearly from where I sit in the cabin. A look out the window shows him pacing, running a hand through his hair. Meanwhile, Bishop is busy hitting on the flight attendant. His hand is wandering up her leg as he asks how many times she’s been in the Mile High Club.
“My travelling bros have already joined once today, maybe we can ask them if we can use the bed and join ourselves,” he says, openly staring at her tits. To be fair though, I’m fairly sure she doesn’t mind the attention. Hell, for all I know Dean could’ve paid her to put up with it. Come to think of it, he probably did.
We sit there for a couple of minutes, Bishop still shamelessly flirting with the flight attendant, before Jax comes back on board with a face like thunder. He storms towards me and drags me into the bedroom.
“Oh hey,” Bishop calls, “don’t mess up the sheets too much, me and Mindy are gonna hit them up later.”
Jax slams the door and starts pacing, pulling at his hair. “I can’t fucking believe this,” he says.
I try to grab hold of him so he’ll calm down, but he breaks away. “What’s going on?” I ask.
“Dean fucking signed him to the team.”
“Why?” I ask.
“He said the marketing potential with both of us on board was better. That cocksucking motherfucker. He knows I can’t stand that twunt.”
“Twunt?” I ask.
“Yeah, a cross between and twat and… C,” he whispers.
“Oh. So what happens now?”
“Now we go to Vegas.”
“And then?”
“Bishop and I compete and show the world what we’re made of.”
“But you’re still the top rider, right?”
“Co-top now,” he grits out.
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
He finally stops his pacing and faces me. “What can I do? If I want to keep riding, this is my only choice. That cocksucking motherfucker told me I would be his top rider, alone. Now I have to put up with Bishop fucking Royal? Fuck that. Fuck all of this. It was supposed to be me here. I was supposed to have the spotlight, be the star.” The look on his face is one of utter dejection. I walk over to him and take him in my arms. “I miss my family,” he says into my neck.
“I know, dude,” I say, “but at least you get to fly in a private jet.” I’m trying to make the best out of a bad situation, but even to me it sounds weak. “You’re not done yet, Jax,” I remind him. “You have so much more to give. You’re Jax Ryan, BMX god extraordinaire, remember?” I feel his lips lift in a small smile. “Don’t let this stop you from doing what you love.”
“I’m going to kill him if I have to spend too much time with him,” he says.
“Ask Dean to schedule you on different promos. Tell him you can cover twice as much ground if you’re separated.”
“I hate this,” he groans.
“I know,” I say, running a hand through his hair. I love feeling the thick strands in between my fingers, and I think it calms him as well.
“Oi, you two,” Bishop yells, banging on the door, “it’s been ten minutes, that should’ve been enough time for you to come twice, Ryan, now get your arses out here.”
“I really am going to kill him,” Jax says as we break apart. I give his hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Just remember, you’re not done yet,” I tell him. He nods and opens the door.
“About time,” Bishop says. “They wanna take off, but you two are holding us up.”
Jax gives him the finger as we make our way to our seats. I rub his shoulder once we’re seated, Jax’s hand moving to my knee.
Bishop looks at Jax’s hand before turning his sleazy gaze on me. “I’m Bishop, Bishop Royal, we haven’t met yet,” he says. His green eyes are piercing and at odds with his obvious Pacific Islander heritage. The tanned skin, dark brown hair, and glimpses tribal tattoos mixed in with the traditional designs on his arms are indicators of strong Maori heritage, but those eyes….
“I know who you are,” I say, grabbing Jax’s hand and entwining it with my own.
Bishop leans back in his seat, spreading his legs wide. Physically his presence isn’t intimidating. He’s even less built than Jax, and is shorter, I’m going with five seven maybe, but his attitude more than makes up for that. A bit of a Napoleon complex perhaps? “So you know I took your man’s medals at the Extreme Games then. A changing of the tide, they called it.”
“Or a Steven Bradbury,” I retort. “You know, only taking the win ’cause everyone else fell over.” Jax chuckles and kisses my temple. “I’d enjoy the spotlight while it lasts,” I continue, “because as you can see, Jax is on his comeback tour and he’s performing better than ever.”
Bishop shrugs. “Eh, I’ve seen your runs. They’re okay, nothing special though.”
“You know me,” Jax says. “I like a good finale. Wouldn’t want to burn out too early, now would I?”
“That’s what they say,” Bishop replies, his confidence faltering.
“Maybe.” Jax shrugs. “Guess we’ll see at the Games, won’t we?”
Vegas is another triumph for Jax. Ever since he’s come back, he’s been getting better and better. Like he told Bishop, he does have a little something in reserve for the Extreme Games. But seeing him out there now, it’s almost like he never had an injury setback.
Bishop takes third in the contest, pulling tricks Jax did before his injury. He was pissed, of course, trashing his rider area after the comp. To be honest, the amount of aggression he had was scary. It’s just another thing I have to add to my list of reasons why I don’t like Bishop Royal.
I’m trying to forget about him, however, as we’re currently at the competition after-party. I’ve recently learned that when you pair Jax with alcohol, he gets a lot more bubbly, something I didn’t think was possible, and a lot more handsy, something I also didn’t think was possible. Not that I’m not enjoying it. We’re on the dance floor, sandwiched together, Jax’s hands running all over my body. I love the feel of them on me. They’re a little rough from all the work he does on his bike, but gentle enough to show how much he cares for me. I never thought I’d ever be a “relationship” girl. I guess it stems from everything that happened with Ethan. Somewhere along the line, I just stopped picturing my life with someone.
I stopped looking for someone to share it with. Then Jax happened. I say happened rather than came along, because Jax isn’t something to come across gently. No, he’s something to experience, and my god, what an experience he’s been. I hope he’ll continue to be for a long time to come, too.
Just no ring. I don’t do rings.
“So what do you think?” Jax asks as we grind the night away.
“What do I think about what?” I ask.
“This,” he says, gesturing to the club, “the lifestyle, everything.”
“I think this is you to a T,” I say.
“Is it something you could put up with, say, forever?”
“I don’t know if I’d still want to be partying like this in ten years’ time, I hope by then we both would have matured, but being part of this world? Yeah, I could live with it.”
Jax takes my mouth in a relentless kiss, his hands moving to my arse, squeezing and kneading before pushing me into his erection. We’re interrupted by what looks to be two anacondas battling for supremacy. In reality it’s just Bishop and some bleached-blonde, plastic bimbo tongue wrestling and drunkenly stumbling all over the place. “But I could do with a lot less of him,” I say, nodding to Jax’s rival. Currently he has one hand underneath the hem of her dress; the other is massaging one of her balloon-like tits. I mean, seriously? They couldn’t get a room?
“That makes two of us, darlin’,” he says, resting his forehead on mine.
We decide to take a breather, moving to a cosy corner booth in the shadows. While it might be private, it means the chance of a waitress seeing us and coming to get our order are slim to none.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, giving Jax a quick kiss he tries to deepen, before getting up and heading to the bar, with a quick detour to the bathrooms. On my way back, I bump into someone.
“Oh, sorry,” I apologise, before I see who it is.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetcheeks,” Bishop says, grabbing me by the arse and pulling me to him. I try to get out of his hold, but he’s a strong little midget.
“Get your hands off me,” I say, scratching and pulling at his arms.