by Naomi West
Gary frowned, his lips tightening into a thin line for a moment. “I'm honestly a bit disappointed to hear that from you,” he told me. “To be frank, I think you're an idiot for throwing away the opportunities that you could have—and for what? So that you can be a slave to some local motorcycle club for the rest of your life?”
I shrugged a little. I wasn't going to be able to change his mind, I realized, and he wasn't going to be able to change mine. I didn't really want to talk about the shop anymore.
Fortunately, three other students whom I vaguely recognized came over to the table just then. “Hey Gary,” the guys chirped, sliding into seats with their beers as well.
“Who's this?” one of the guys asked, and Gary began the introductions.
Chapter Nine
Jessi
When I got home on Wednesday night, after another night of drinks with Gary and some of the other students, Dad met me at the door, looking a bit angry. “I've already closed up the shop for the night,” he told me.
I frowned. “But, Dad, you know that I planned on getting some work done in there tonight,” I told him. “I was going to lay out all those parts that you needed for Bryce's bike tomorrow, so that you could get right to work on it when you went in there. And then I was going to-”
“No, I didn't know you were going to get some work done in there tonight,” Dad interrupted. “I knew that you were supposed to get some work done in there. But it's ten o'clock at night right now, and I was beginning to wonder if you were even going to come home tonight, or if you were maybe going to stay over at a friend's place in the city. I know your class schedule; you should have been home hours ago.”
“Relax,” I said. “I had some studying that I needed to do, so I went over to the library after my classes. And then I was working on this project for my mechanics class. Plus, I just went for some drinks with Gary Ellsmith and a few other students from the department. They've been really great, helping me out with all sorts of design issues and things like that. I'm really starting to feel like I belong there now.”
“Jessi, you know what our work schedule is like at the moment,” Dad argued. “I understand that you need to work on your school projects, and I've been generous enough to give you plenty of time for that. But in the evenings, you need to come back here and do your work. That's what we agreed upon.”
“We agreed that I would study during the week and then work for the shop on weekends,” I said, shaking my head. “We never agreed that I would have to give up all of my evenings as well.”
“Stop being so childish, Jessi,” Dad snapped. “I'm busting my ass trying to come up with tuition money for you for the fall; I expect you to pull your weight around the shop as well. There's no reason for you to be out socializing when-”
“I'm networking, Dad,” I interrupted. “Gary Ellsmith is a big name in the design community, and I'm lucky enough to have him as a professor and a mentor. He's really been helping me a lot this semester, and he says he'll continue to mentor me for as long as I'm in the program. And he's got connections in the industry. He's already talking to this guy in Cleveland about getting me a two-week internship there this coming fall. It's with a big company, and-”
“And Greyhound Custom Motorcycles isn't good enough for you anymore, now that you're some city-slick kid,” Dad said bitterly.
“Of course that's not true,” I said. “You know that I'd love to take over the business one day. It would be an honor. But at the same time, as Gary says, it will benefit me to learn different design styles and to see how different shops run. I don't really have any experience with how bigger companies run, and it would be interesting to learn the ropes on some of the different types of machinery that they have. I-”
“Why is Gary so keen on giving you all this personal attention anyway?” Dad asked. “I'm assuming he doesn't do this for every freshman that he teaches, so why are you so special?”
I scowled at him. “Because, Dad. Unlike you, Gary is actually willing to see my potential. He thinks I'm really talented, and so do my other professors. If this were his shop, he said he would have had me designing and building custom bikes a long time ago. But that's because he actually knows what a woman could do in this business. He isn't so concerned about his masculinity that he wouldn't even give me a chance.”
Dad's face went through a complicated set of expressions. “Don't talk to me that way,” he said. “You're getting a bit too big for your britches if you aren't remembering that I am your father and you still live under my roof. You will speak to me with respect.”
“Yeah, because you show so much respect to me,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Dad, you're hardly even willing to look at my designs, and some of them are really good. Rip says there's one that he thinks would be perfect for J.T. even, and I know you still haven't come up with something that J.T. would like. Rather than wasting more time on a bunch of different designs, why don't we at least try to sell mine to him? We need to get started building it or else we'll never finish it.”
“Absolutely not,” Dad said firmly. “I refuse to waste J.T.'s time with your childish or impossible designs. You don't have a head for how the mechanics of things work, Jessi. It's one thing to draw a bike that looks cool, but it's another thing to design a bike that could actually work.”
“I don't have a head for the mechanics?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “Funny to hear that, since I'm currently acing my mechanics class.” I shook my head. “You refuse to see that I could actually be good in this business, but I really could. Gary sees that, and that's why he's helping me out. It's as simple as that.”
“Sounds like he's probably interested in something else,” Dad said darkly, and I practically blew up.
“Well, maybe he is, Dad,” I snapped. “Maybe he's just a perv and he really wants to get into my pants, so that's why we talk about motorcycles and only motorcycles all the time that I spend with him. But you know what? Even if that was all that he was interested in, isn't that something that I can deal with on my own? I'm not a little kid anymore, Dad. I don't know why it's so difficult for you to see that I've grown up, but I'm twenty-two years old, and I think I can handle myself well enough on my own.”
“You're going to have a curfew,” Dad told me. “Eight o'clock. Every night. I want you back to the house. You can put an hour of work in at the shop then, and I'll call that good. If you have big projects due, I might let you skip the hour in the shop, but I still want you home by eight.”
“Dad, what part of 'I'm not a little kid' are you not getting?” I growled. “I don't need a curfew. I'm busting my ass to get the best grades that I can at school, and if I want to get drinks and unwind a little-”
“Then you had better find your own place to live and your own way to pay for tuition,” Dad said grimly. “I'm sorry, but that's the way it's going to be. If you want to live under my roof, eat my food, and have me help you out with tuition, that's the way it's going to be. In the house by eight o'clock.”
“That's not fair!” I said, but there wasn't really anything that I could do about it. There was no way I could afford to live on my own, and I didn't want to lose the privilege of working in his shop either.
“And one more thing,” Dad said, narrowing his eyes at me. “You absolutely, under no circumstances, will be going away to some internship in Cleveland this fall. You have responsibilities here, Jessi, and you can't just go haring off for weeks at a time on a whim. I thought I'd raised you better than that.”
I gaped, then I narrowed my eyes at him. “Fine,” I told him frostily. “But I'm going to give my design to Rip and have him show it to J.T. Because, as I said, we can't lose any more time on that project.” With that, I stormed past him into the house and went up the stairs to my room, slamming the door behind me. Sure, it was a bit juvenile of me, but if he was going to treat me like a kid, I could act as sulky as I wanted.
Chapter Ten
Jessi
I could hear Rip come i
nto the shop behind me, but I didn't look up yet, still working on the design that was in front of me. It was a design for J.T.'s bike, and even though I knew that Dad would never even look at it, I wanted everything to be perfect.
“What are you working on?” Rip asked, coming into the shop behind me and leaning over my shoulder to see. He was close, well within my personal space, but I didn't mind. I could smell the spicy scent of his cologne radiating off him, and I was so tempted to lean back against his warm chest, letting him pull me into his arms.
It was funny, because I had never really thought of the man as attractive before, but now that he was here, leaning over me …
I looked back over my shoulder, smiling up at him. “It's just a design for J.T.'s bike.”.
Rip shook his head. “Watching you design bikes is so sexy,” he told me. “I can practically feel your designs purring between my legs.”
I raised an eyebrow at him, still smirking. “Does that interest you?” I asked him, reaching out daringly to trace the visible outline of his hard member against the seam of his pants.
Rip's eyes darkened, and I wasn't entirely surprised when he leaned down and captured my lips in a kiss, which soon spiraled off into something more …
I woke up from the dream feeling hot and desperate to come, but alone, there in the sheets. Of course it was just a dream. Rip would never think of looking twice at me. He was a biker, and I was sure that he had dozens of women at his beck and call over at the Hounds' clubhouse.
For a moment, I lay there, awkwardly trying to figure out what I should do now. I was still tired and really wanted to go back to sleep, but I wasn't sure I could calm myself down enough without …
With hardly a conscious decision from my brain, my fingers found their way down between my legs, stroking hesitantly at the cloth of my panties. Even that little pressure was enough to have me practically whimpering with desire.
God, if Rip could only see me now …
I let my mind fill with images of his face, with thoughts of what he might do to me, and of how he might use me.
“I've wanted to fuck you for a long time now,” I imagined he would say to me. “Ever since I first saw you working here.”
I would giggle a little, turning my head away, sure that he was just saying that. “But the girls in your club-”
“Have nothing on you. God, Jessi, have you ever seen yourself? These curves ...” He traced his hands slowly down my sides, his fingertips lingering against my bare breasts and my hips. “You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you.”
“Please,” I whimpered, already imagining how it would feel to have his thick length pressed inside of me. I didn't even think I needed preparation. I could already feel how wet I was becoming.
I slipped my fingers inside of my tight, warm hole, practically groaning with relief. I played there with the tips of my fingers for a moment, stroking and pressing at my walls, imagining that it was the tip of his member that I was tightening around. It was just this side of not enough, but I knew that it was the best that I was going to get.
I imagined Rip thrusting deep inside of me, rolling his hips so that his hard length stimulated parts of me that I had never even known existed.
I imagined us there in the office of the shop, with me sprawled against my desk, being fucked hard from behind by Rip, whose grip on my hips never wavered. Even though I knew that we could be found at any moment, I didn't ask him to stop, and he made no signs of wavering.
I sped up the movements of my hand to match my imaginings.
I could only think of the way he would dominate me, of the way he would control my movements, and the way his fingers would skim down my skin, scorching every inch of it with heat as he fucked the life out of me. I wasn't normally the type of girl for a rough-and-tumble one-night stand, but I felt that, with Rip, that was distinctly possible.
I wanted to open myself up to him, to lay myself bare for him to ravish. It wasn't just the dream talking, either; there was more to it than that. There was the fact that my father was so against my having anything to do with this lifestyle. There was the stress of college. But there was, above all, the fact that Rip had seen my designs and seemed to respect me because of them. That was a pretty foreign concept, as far as I was concerned. And I liked that.
I had to keep reminding myself that this wasn't reality, and that Rip wasn't here. But...oh.
I gave a soft sound of pleasure at the feelings between my legs. I wasn't even doing much, just playing around a little with my clit. But I could imagine that it was Rip down there, between my legs. Rip's tongue, maybe, playing across the smooth folds of my skin, and …
I came, feeling almost ashamed, but mostly just relaxed. I was going to have to do some serious thinking about this whole thing once I was fully awake, but for now, sleep was beckoning, and I was all too happy to let my eyes slip closed and allow blackness to wash over me.
Chapter Eleven
Rip
I could tell something was up from the moment I walked into the shop on Saturday morning, after taking a few days off for an extended ride. The tension between Mick and Jessi was so thick that you could practically see it hanging there in the air. “Whoa, what happened?” I asked. They couldn't be stressing about a deadline, could they? Had I really thrown off their schedule by missing the past few days? Mick had agreed to let me go …
“Nothing,” they said in unison, both barely glancing over at me. Okay, this was going to be a pretty awkward work day, I guessed.
“So what do you want me to do, boss?” I asked Mick carefully.
He shrugged. “Why don't you ask Jessi?” he asked. “She seems to think she's the boss around here anyway.”
Whoa. I wondered if that meant Jessi had finally told him about her design for J.T.'s bike. It must mean that, though. I was impressed. I hadn't thought she had it in her. It was about time she started standing up for herself and building her own designs.
I looked over at Jessi, who was frowning at her dad. “Dad, you know what needs to get done better than I do,” she pointed out. “I haven't been here for most of the week, except for the last few evenings; I'm still trying to figure out what the status is on all of our projects.”
Mick slammed a wrench down on the floor. “Well, Rip, why don't you and Jessi go to your guy Sanders and pick up the parts that I requested from him. He should have them packaged up and ready to go.”
“Okay,” I said, even though that was really the task for one person, not two. But maybe he needed some time by himself to get over whatever this tiff with Jessi was. And maybe I could ask her about it if I got her alone.
“My car or your bike?” Jessi asked as we left the shop.
I snorted. “You're never getting on this baby,” I said, fondly patting my bike.
Jessi raised an eyebrow at me but didn't question it. “Okay, so my car then.”
“I'll drive, though,” I told her. “It's easier than trying to give you directions.”
Jessi looked like she wanted to argue for a moment, but then she shrugged. “I swear, though, if you drive like a maniac, I'm going to make you pull over and let me drive,” she warned.
I laughed and took the keys from her. “Sure thing, darling,” I told her. “Get in.”
We drove in silence for the first part of the trip, as I thought about how to approach this. I kept glancing over at her in the passenger's seat. She had already changed some since she'd started school; I noticed the differences. She wore a little bit of makeup now—not too much, but a little eyeliner and mascara most days. And I could see the difference in her personality as well. She was a bit spunkier, and she kept the office more organized. She wanted this, and I appreciated that drive.
Of course, the Hounds of Hades were hoping to get Greyhound Custom Motorcycles into their own hands, as a front for some of our more illicit operations, so eventually, she was going to need to realize she had to find another place for herself. Based on the designs that I had seen
from her, though, that wasn't going to be a problem, and that was part of why I was hoping we did end up using her design for J.T.'s bike. Give her a little taste of success like that, and I was sure it would only be a matter of time before she was dreaming of working for some bigger company.
“What's up with you and your dad?” I finally asked bluntly.
Jessi startled a little and looked sheepishly over at me. “We just had a little disagreement, that's all,” she said, sighing softly. “He treats me like a child—he doesn't seem to realize that I've grown up.”
