by Naomi West
“I know,” Rip said. He was still watching me. “I'll do everything that I can to protect you.”
I thought of him punching Hollande and sighed. I wasn't sure that his protection was anything that I wanted, but it wasn't like I really had any choice in any of this. “Thanks,” I finally said.
I lay back against the bed and closed my eyes, even though I was fully dressed and still on top of the covers. I wouldn't be falling asleep for hours anyway, even if I wanted to; my mind was an absolute maelstrom of thoughts and feelings at the moment. I itched to call the police, but I didn't know what would happen to me if I did so. But then again, sacrificing my own life might be better if it meant I could save everyone that Cat had a vendetta against. I couldn't imagine going to prison, though, and especially not since I knew Cat must have connections both inside and outside of the prisons. Either way, things looked bad for me.
My hand crept towards the motel telephone, but when I picked up the receiver, the line was dead. I checked and it was plugged in, but it definitely wasn't working. “Stupid cheap motel,” I muttered under my breath.
I wasn't able to bring myself to leave the room, even though I knew it would be easy enough to walk downstairs and ask to use the reception phone, which I figured must be working.
It wasn't just that I was caught up in this, either. Part of me was reluctant to turn Rip over to the police. Even though I knew that it was just lust, that I was just longing for this sense of adventure to be reawakened. He took too many risks and was too foolhardy to even realize he was taking so many risks. I kind of admired his ability to trust in these random strangers just because they were all part of his biker gang, but I also didn't know how he managed to turn a blind eye to all of their flaws.
I dropped the receiver and fell back against the bed, wondering what I was going to do. Rip came back into the room, and I pushed myself up onto my elbows.
“That didn't take very long,” I commented.
Rip rolled his eyes. “There's a liquor store right next door,” he said.
“Oh.” I watched as he poured himself a few fingers of whiskey into one of those plastic water cups, knocking back a healthy swig. “Can you pour me a drink too?” I asked plaintively. He paused, looking at me for a moment and then grabbed the other glass.
“I didn't bring anything to mix with,” he warned.
“I don't even care right now,” I said, although I didn't normally drink alcohol, and I definitely didn't drink it straight. But what the hell. I needed it right then.
The first sip burned on the way down, and I coughed a little, eyes watering. Rip looked amused but didn't say anything, calmly pouring himself another drink.
It wasn't long before we found ourselves sitting face-to-face on the bed, watching one another. “I shouldn't deliver the packages, I know that,” Rip said suddenly, still looking tired as he ran a hand back through his hair. “I should never have gotten involved in this. But there's no way to really back out now. Cat has friends and supporters everywhere. I'd be dead by the end of the week.”
I had the feeling appealing to his morality and mentioning all the other people who would be dead by the end of the week wasn't going to help anything, but I struggled to think of anything I could use to argue against his continued involvement in this scheme.
“Don't you see how risky this plan is?” I finally asked. I was a risk assessor, after all. Why not try that tactic? He must have some sense of self-preservation or he wouldn't have even made it this far.
“Romeo,” Rip began.
I shook my head. “Romeo might not be the only person checking bags,” I interrupted. “Or maybe he'll even be sick. Or reassigned to a different place tomorrow. You'd be a sitting duck as soon as you walked in there with that package. If anything went wrong, there'd be no way for you to get out of there without raising suspicion at the very least.”
“Cherri wouldn't have proposed that plan if she thought something might go wrong,” Rip said confidently. “Even if Romeo gets sick or something like that, he'll show up. And even if there's someone else checking bags with him, he'll make sure that everything happens the way that it needs to.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “But don't you think you might raise some suspicions when you show up three times this week and get your bag confiscated every time? Especially given that you'll be showing up to see your ex-fiancée, apparently.”
“Maybe we've rekindled our romance,” Rip said. “No one else is going to know what's in the package. For all anyone knows, I could be trying to smuggle her, I don't know, sex toys or something like that. They'll know it's contraband, but they won't realize it's guns. Romeo will 'destroy' the contraband, and that'll be the end of it.”
“Have you ever even written to this ex-fiancée while she's been in jail?” I asked impatiently, wondering why he didn't seem to understand the risks. Did he think he was invincible or something? Maybe I was dealing with someone even more foolishly dangerous than I'd realized.
But Rip was silent at that, staring impassively at me as he took another long sip of whiskey. “I'll give you that,” he finally said. “You're right, it's a bit weird. But I don't think I could bring in all three packages at the same time. They wouldn't fit into a single backpack, and then Cherri would have to find some way to slip all three of them to Cat at once. It makes sense for me to bring them one at a time. And there can't be three different ways to slip contraband into the place; the prison system isn't that bad.”
I sighed. Well, acceptance of the risk was the first step. Now to get him to think beyond that…
“What do you care anyway?” Rip asked. “I would have thought you'd be glad to get rid of me.”
“I will be,” I snapped, even though I didn't really know what I was feeling for him at the moment. I remembered reading once, in my freshman pysch class, about Stockholm Syndrome. That must be why I was having these confusing feelings of lust and whatever else for him. Nothing more than that…
I shook my head. “The thing is, if you get caught with these packages, I'm afraid I'm going to get into trouble as well. There are plenty of people who can link the two of us together over the past few days, from motel staff to waitresses to Barry and Hollande and Cherri. I'm just looking out for my best interests.”
“I don't believe you,” Rip said succinctly. He shrugged a little. “I saw you with Barry. You were out the door before you'd even really thought things through. You just knew he was your brother and that you had to help him. Whatever the consequences. You're a good person; you don't just look out for your own best interests.”
I shrugged a little, wondering what he wanted me to say. “Well, I'm not just looking out for your best interests,” I finally said, but didn't elaborate.
Rip grinned at me and took my cup, setting it beside his on the night-table. Then, he reached for me, leaning down to kiss me. “No,” he agreed, his breath ghosting across my lips. “I don't suppose you are just looking out for my best interests. But I'd say that you have some personal interest in keeping me safe, don't you?”
I blushed but with the whiskey singing in my veins, I didn't push him away when he leaned in to kiss me again.
Chapter Thirteen
Liv
Rip was surprisingly gentle when he kissed me, and I could tell he was giving me plenty of time to pull away, if that was what I wanted to do. I appreciated that level of respect from him. Underneath it all, I could tell that Rip wasn't really a bad guy, for all of his machismo and seeming lack of moral inhibitions.
I whimpered into the kiss, wordlessly begging for more. My hands roved over his pecs and out to his biceps, fingertips digging into his muscles as I tried to find something — anything — to ground myself with. I felt practically consumed by fiery passion, though, as though all the bickering and tension of the past few days was culminating in this moment. As one of his hands slipped down my side and landed against my lower back to pull me even closer, I groaned, dropping my forehead down to rest against
his collarbone.
“I want to take you apart, until you're practically screaming my name,” Rip growled, pushing me back so that I lay flat against the bed as he crawled on top of me. He settled over me, catching the hem of my shirt in his hands and tugging it unceremoniously up over my head. He grinned down at me, catching a handful of my breast and squeezing it through the bra. “That's a pretty bra you have on, considering that you were practically kidnapped...”
I blushed a little and squirmed beneath his touch, already desperate for more. I bit my lip as he reached behind me and deftly unhooked my bra, pulling it away to reveal my pale boobs. He leaned down to nibble and suck at the nub of my left breast. I couldn't help the gasp that slipped out, and I arched against him, wanting so much more. He grinned up at me and moved to the other breast, repeating his ministrations until both my nipples were puckered and pert.
Belatedly, I reached up to undo the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel skin-on-skin contact. But the buttons kept slipping from my shaking fingers as he explored the area between my jaw and my breasts using his tongue, teeth, and the rough pads of his fingers.
Finally, he pulled back, laughing a little, and began removing his own shirt, revealing plane after plane of tanned skin and solid muscle. I licked my lips, feeling the sudden urge to taste every inch of the skin that he uncovered. “Like what you see?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
I stared unabashedly at him, not even sure what words to use to convey just how much I liked what I saw. I could feel my panties becoming wet, though, and I was sure that would be indication enough, if he would ever quit teasing my areolas and move someplace lower.
Suddenly unable to take it anymore, I moved my hands to my own jeans and started to undo them, needing to feel more than teasing touches through the fabric. But Rip caught my hands and pinned them up above my head. “I don't think so,” he said, leaning in to murmur against the shell of my ear. He trailed the very tip of his tongue down to the earlobe and grazed his teeth gently against the fleshy bit of skin there, making me writhe against the sheets.
“Rip,” I whimpered, twisting my wrists in a vain attempt to free them. “Please, I need more. Please.”
“How long has it been since a man touched you like this?” Rip asked, grinding down against me and igniting my need even more, if that was possible.
I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut. “Please,” I tried again.
“How long?” Rip repeated, pulling back almost entirely, so that the only points of contact between us were his hand pinning my wrists and his knees on either side of my hips.
“Eight months,” I finally gasped, even though I was embarrassed by the admission. “I haven't ... in eight months.”
“Hollande not interested in it?” Rip asked, sounding surprised.
I shivered a little. “I wasn't,” I told him. “Hollande wanted to ... a couple times. But I wasn't...” I could feel shame taking over my expression, but Rip leaned down to kiss that away.
“Good,” he said gruffly. “I figured you must be smarter than all of that.”
I giggled a little, hardly believing when the noise came out of my mouth. But almost as a reward, he moved his mouth down, trailing it below my navel and spreading my thighs. He lingered there for a moment, tasting the skin between my navel and my core, making me tremble with desire. But finally, he reached for the closure of my jeans and swiftly removed them, replacing the warmth of my panties with the warmth of his mouth.
“Oh fuck,” I gasped, surprised by the touch. “That feels...” I trailed off, pressing my face against my arm but still keeping my wrists pinned up above my head. I whined, wanting to touch Rip. But I wasn't going to go against what he wanted…
“Oh yeah?” Rip asked, grinned wickedly up at me.
He continued to flick his tongue over my nub, trailing his fingers over the sensitive parts that his mouth wasn't touching. Just the very tip of his tongue breached my entrance, and I whined, needing more than that. But he continued to take things slow, to draw hushed noises of pleasure out of me.
Suddenly, it was all too much, and I shifted my hips desperately, suddenly wondering how much he wanted me to lie there and take it and how much he wanted for me to fight against him, show him the pleasures that he deserved to receive. There was, of course, no denying that he wanted me to come before the night was over, but that didn't mean that was all he wanted.
I looped my feet behind him and urged him back closer, trying to slot my lips to his. This kiss was more frenzied than the previous ones that we had shared, and I wondered if underneath it all, he was just as turned on and over-stimulated as I was.
“Yes,” Rip suddenly hissed, his voice low and needy-sounding as I ground up against him.
I couldn't help my amusement, my face twisting into a grin as he ground down against me, trying desperately to get the same angle, where I could feel his hard, thick length pressing in between my folds. “Take these off,” I whispered, tugging at his pants.
Rip pulled back for just a moment before complying, pulling a condom out of his pocket before revealing first his boxer-briefs and then his naked form. He was every bit as impressive as I'd expected him to be, and I couldn't wait to feel him inside of me, now unfettered by our layers.
I pressed my head against the pillow and reached for my own panties, pulling down the flimsy, pink thong before he even had a hand on it. “You have no idea how badly I need you,” I informed him as I flung my panties carelessly off to the side.
“Oh yeah?” he asked, dipping a hand down between my legs.
“Yeah,” I agreed breathlessly, pressing down against his fingers. No matter how much I willed my hips to stay still, I seemed to have met my match, faced with his thick fingers plunging towards my core. He was hitting all the right spots, making me whimper and gasp with need. I could come easily like this, I realized, with his fingers scissoring ruthlessly inside of me.
And he kept changing up the angle, the rhythm, the feeling, every time I started to get used to the feeling of him there inside of me. I couldn't help moaning against the sheets, digging my heels in as I shivered against him. “Could come so easily,” I informed him breathlessly.
He smiled down at me, looking pleased with himself. “So come for me,” he murmured, lips ghosting along my jawline. He changed the rhythm of his fingers one final time, dragging them down the walls of my pussy, and I cried out as my climax washed over me in wave after wave of pleasure.
Before I'd even managed to string together a coherent thought, he was there, pressing the tip of his member up against my hole, pushing slowly in. I could feel my sheath shuddering against him already, trying to accommodate his wonderful girth. He finally bottomed out, and I reveled in the feeling of having him there, all around me and filling me from the inside too.
He paused like that for a moment, and given the look on his face, I didn't know if he was giving me more time to adjust to the breach or if he was pausing to give himself a chance to calm down a little so he didn't come right away.
When he actually started moving, beginning with just a few slow movements back and forth, sliding easily through my slick passageway, we moaned almost simultaneously. He pulled out until just the very tip of his penis was still inside of me and then shoved back inside, and I arched against him, hands scrambling to find something to hold on to. I clung to him as he repeated this movement, increasing the pace until it was almost too much for me to bear.
My body drew taut with pleasure, and my soft pleas grew louder and louder. With one final, quick push into me, he sent me spiraling through yet another climax. This time, when I orgasmed, he did as well, his hips jerking against mine as he lost the rhythm and then stilling as he spilled.
He collapsed down onto me, but I didn't mind the weight. I enjoyed the closeness and the warmth, and it grounded me a little, brought me back to where I was. Finally, he pulled away, and I blinked muzzily up at him. “That was—”
Before I could finish the
thought, he put a finger over my lips, shushing me. He carefully arranged us both under the covers, pulling me back to rest against his chest. “That was sex,” he told me. “Nothing more, nothing less. Just sex.”
Something inside of me ached at hearing that, but I knew that was true. Once these packages were delivered, I definitely was never going to see him again, and I was going to make every effort to make sure he couldn't find me even if he wanted to. This was just sex. Just lust, just attraction, just getting out some tension. Just sex.
I fell asleep with those words playing through my head. Just sex.
Chapter Fourteen
Rip
The next morning when I woke up, I could almost believe that nothing had happened the night before, except that Liv and I were both still naked there beneath the sheets. But she was over on the far side of the bed, her back to me, and we weren't touching. It was just a normal morning.
