Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“That sink in yet?” he asked.
“Trip, you need to stop. I don’t understand why you’re doing this. The bar I do, but me?” She shook her head. “There’s no reason for it. We made a mistake, it’s now over and let’s move on.”
He dropped his head until his breath was beating off her lips, but he didn’t kiss her. No. He let that warm breath sweep along her jaw and up her cheek as he slid his nose along hers. “You were born club property,” he said softly but firmly into her ear. “I’m reclaiming what belongs to the club. That means you belong to me.”
That means you belong to me.
Was it wrong that heat rushed through her and everything clenched tight? Her nipples, her pussy, everything except her lips which parted, and a ragged breath escaped.
Yes, it was wrong. So, so wrong. “Sounds like slavery to me.”
“Then you weren’t listenin’.”
“I heard you, Trip, loud and clear. As much as you want to think you can ‘claim’ someone, you can’t own a person. Not without their consent. Hell, maybe not even with their consent.”
“Then tell me no, baby. Tell me that’s not what you want. Tell me you didn’t feel what I did in my kitchen this mornin’. And don’t lie.”
“Having sex with someone is not even remotely similar to having someone claim them.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Maybe if you’re into some kinky shit.”
“Maybe I’m into some kinky shit.”
Stella pulled her head back so she could look at his face. Her hand which she had pressed against his chest to give them as much space as possible, curled into his T-shirt, gripping it hard. “Are you?”
“No, but if you are, I’m willin’ to try whatever the fuck you’re into.”
Holy shit, this man! He was fucking crazy!
She pressed her lips tightly together and pushed at him. He didn’t budge. Of course not.
“I can tell you what I’m not into... You being a bossy motherfucker and trying to control my life. You’re not asking, you’re telling. That’s bossy. And I don’t like it.”
“Don’t you?”
She sucked in her stomach as his callused fingertips traced the waistband of the leggings she had put on earlier. They slid lower until he cupped her mound. She was afraid he’d discover just how damp the crotch of the stretchy cotton was.
Because even though she didn’t want to be claimed as some biker’s woman or ol’ lady, she definitely wanted to have sex with Trip again.
As crazy as that was.
Her brain reminded her it was a mistake and would make things even messier, but her body disagreed. Besides the other night downstairs in the bar and again this morning in his kitchen, her blood hadn’t pumped like that in a long time.
Also during that time, her black and white world had taken on a little color. Just like when the top of the morning sun hit the horizon. Creating enough light to start chasing away the darkness.
He dropped his head until his mouth lightly touched hers and he gripped her mound tighter. “Want my mouth on you there. Want you moanin’ my name as I eat you ‘til you come. Want you beggin’ me to give you my dick. Want you drippin’ wet as you claw my back and bite me hard enough to leave a mark because you’re losin’ your fuckin’ mind as I fuck you.”
His tongue slid quickly along her bottom lip, then was gone. Simply a taste before he devoured her.
“But when I do all that, when I take you like that, wanna know it’s all mine and only mine. I don’t fuckin’ share, baby. Want my name on your lips as you come and no other man’s.”
“We hardly know each other, Trip. We’re different people than we were twenty years ago.”
“Know what I see and know what I want. Also know what I’m feelin’.” His middle finger slipped deeper between her thighs tracing the damp line of cotton. “And what I’m feelin’ doesn’t lie.”
“Can you give me space to breathe, to think?”
“Nothin’ to think about.”
“There’s so much to think about, Trip.”
So much happened in the last two decades. He was no longer a fifteen-year-old boy and she certainly wasn’t an eleven-year-old girl. He hadn’t even wanted—or, hell, liked—her back then. He and Sig and most of the other boys considered her and the other girls pests.
So, what changed?
It certainly wasn’t her sparkling personality.
And he said she was too skinny. Plus, she was so broke, her meals basically consisted of oatmeal or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
What did he see in her that made him want to claim her?
She just couldn’t wrap her head around it.
She needed to switch gears and help him understand exactly what he said. How he said it. See how wrong it was.
Because while she wanted to have sex with him, she did not want to sell her soul to the devil. “Your father took what he wanted, whenever he wanted. As did a lot of who you call the Originals. But that was his downfall. Do you want to end up just like him?”