Blood & Bones: Trip (Blood Fury MC Book 1)

by Jeanne St. James

  He braced.

  The rush of booted feet, the howl of frustration, then the impact of her against his back. Fists pounded him, more of an annoyance than anything. But it wasn’t until she yanked his leather skull cap off his head and grabbed a fistful of his hair, just about ripping it out of his scalp, that he decided it was time to end this shit.

  Time for him to get things straight with her.

  Time to lay out the rules.

  Because she was not leaving that bar, or even town, if he had anything to say about it.

  He spun on his heel and brought a fist up to break her grip on his hair. And when he did, he clamped his hands on her wrists, trying to control her flailing arms. Her face was nothing but a twisted mask of pain, frustration and exhaustion.

  He recognized it because he’d been there. He’d been in her shoes.

  Somehow he needed to convince her that he wasn’t the bad guy. He wasn’t out to hurt her. Or take what little she was clinging to.

  When her boot made contact with his shin, making him suck in a breath and then release it in a loud, “Fuck!” he... was... done.

  Completely fucking done.

  He jerked her around and shoved her against the back counter, bending her over, pinning her hands under her chest and holding her down. With one hand he grabbed a handful of her hair and used it to yank her head up. He dropped his next to hers. “You fuckin’ done?”

  Her answer was her spitting at him. With his hand to the back of her head, he forced her right cheek against the counter, holding her still. “You ain’t fuckin’ done. Tell me when you’re done.”

  “I’m not letting you take what’s mine, Trip. So, fuck you.”

  “We’re back to that again? We already established whose fuckin’ bar it is. So, you can fight me all you like. I can do this all fuckin’ night, Stella. And I know you won’t last all night because I can see how fuckin’ exhausted you are. Can see the shadows under your eyes and the desperation in them, too.”

  “Fuck... you,” she hissed between gritted teeth.

  He put his mouth against her ear, whispering, “I’d be happy to give you what you want, Stella. Just add a few words to that demand.”

  “Fuck... you.”

  “Still missin’ those words,” he growled, then sank his teeth into the top curve of her left ear. He tongued the small hoops that pierced the upper curve of cartilage. “You wanted a kiss all those years ago, I can give you so much more than that. Just say the words.”

  “You’ll just take what you want.” Her words barely discernible between her panting. “Just like the bar.”

  She was stoking his flames by poking at the embers, trying to create an out of control bonfire within him.

  But prison had taught him a lot of things.

  One being how to control his temper. The reason he’d ended up in a concrete box in the first place. The reason he’d ended up in the hole time after time until he learned that hard lesson.

  “Fuck that. Not endin’ up back in the joint, just so you can get me outta your hair. Not gonna work. Pussy ain’t worth prison. No matter how tight, sweet or wet it is.”

  Her jaw was clenched but her words came out more breathless than pissed. “You think I want you, but you’re wrong.”

  No, he wasn’t wrong. Another lesson learned the hard way. How to read people. It kept his throat from being sliced and his asshole from being stretched.

  “No? How hard are your nipples right now, Stella? How wet’s that pussy? How much do you want me to rip down your jeans and fuck you hard just like this? From behind.” By tilting his hips, he showed her just how hard he was for her. How much he wanted her.

  But he wouldn’t take her. Not like that.

  A whimper then a shuddered breath escaped her lips and her eyes squeezed shut.

  “You don’t want this?”

  She spoke no answer but her heavy breathing gave her away. And that wasn’t the only thing. Her ass began to rock against his hard dick.

  “Tell me you don’t want this. You tell me and I’ll fuckin’ stop, let you go and you can get your shit and get the fuck out.”

  She growled and ground against him even harder.

  Yeah, right. She didn’t want him to let her go. But she needed to be a pain in his fucking ass right to the very end. Because she was too stubborn to admit she was wrong. She was too stubborn to admit outright what she wanted.

  She liked to fight, to give as good as she got. To make things more difficult than they had to be. She’d never be sweet and pliable. Everything would always be trying with her.

  Every-fucking-thing.

  But she had no idea how he fucking ate that shit up. That her being defiant made him even hungrier.

  He lived for challenges. That was how he’d survived in the Marines and also in prison.

  He fought hard for what he had, everything he wanted.

  And he’d fight hard for her.

  If she didn’t want to admit out loud she wanted him, then fuck her. She didn’t need to. Her movements and the noises she made gave her away.

  “Want that dick, Stella?”

  Again, no answer.

  “Gotta tell me you want it, or you ain’t gettin’ it. Need to hear it loud and fuckin’ clear. Won’t give up my freedom for a quick fuck.”

  “I can’t... can’t give it. You need... to take it.”

  All the air rushed from his lungs. Was that consent? There was no fucking way he was fucking her without her consent. No fucking way.

  “Just take it!” she screamed.

  Goddamn.

  Did that mean she wanted him to give it to her hard and rough?

  This better not be a damn trap. “Stella...”

  “Stop being a pussy and just fucking take it!”

  Fuck.

  His brain might still be unsure, but his cock wasn’t. His dick was an enthusiastic all-systems-a-go.

  If he had a lick of fucking sense, he should just walk away from her. He wanted her but he wasn’t sure it was worth the risk.

  “Goddamn you, Trip, just fuck me!”

  For fuck’s sake, that was pretty fucking clear.

  She began to squirm. He thought she was trying to get free and was about to let her go, when she managed to shove her jeans and panties down to mid-thigh, exposing...

  Fuck.

  The roots of the tree tattooed onto her back became visible along the top curves of her ass and those roots spread all the way from one hip to the other... But it was that ass...

  His balls tightened uncomfortably as he released her and stepped back. He gave her plenty of time and freedom to change her mind as he purposely took his time to pull out his wallet, snag a wrap and tuck it between his teeth. The jangle of his belt buckle as he unfastened it made her body jerk against the counter, but she didn’t straighten, she didn’t bolt. She didn’t make a move to escape. In fact, she widened her stance as far as her dropped jeans would allow, then she settled in. Waiting.

  His heart beat furiously as he dropped his own jeans to his knees, rolled the wrap down his throbbing cock, and shuffled forward again.

  Sliding a finger down her tempting crease, he ignored the tightening of her anus as he slid over it until he found her slick heat. Just like he thought.

  Her breathing was loud, ragged and quick. His was the same. But he held it as he slipped the head of his cock between her lips until he found his target.

  The spot that would change everything.

  Fuck. He should walk away from this. Sex between them would create problems. More than they had already. It could take the mess they were dealing with and turn it into a full-blown disaster.

  But if that happened, he would deal with it. Like everything else.

  Because Stella might be a pain in his ass, but she was going to be his pain in the ass.

  “What the fuck are you waiting for?”

  Damn. If she wanted to be like that...

  He seated the tip where it needed to be, dug his fin
gers into her hips and slammed it home. He actually had to pause, take a breath, gather his scattered brain cells. Because, fuck, it had been a few months. In fact, the last pussy he had was when he was down in Shadow Valley.

  But this wasn’t a sweet butt. This wasn’t just any pussy.

  This was Stella.

  She was soaking wet and the inside of her hot, slick pussy rippled around his dick, massaging it. Squeezing it to the point where if she kept that up, he’d fucking blow his load way before he was ready to.

  But she wasn’t going to get that satisfaction. Fuck no.

  “You’re gonna make me work for this. So, it better be worth my fuckin’ while.”

  “Shut up and do it.”

  He gritted his teeth and almost pulled out. That would show her.

  But then that would fuck him, too. And not in a good way.

  Since after this, there was no way he was letting her go anywhere, they had plenty of time to get shit straight between them. But now was not it.

  Instead, he gave her what she wanted. What he had fantasized about since the first time he walked back into Crazy Pete’s and saw her. Even before he realized who she was.

  With each pounding thrust, their skin slapped together, her ass rippled, and air rushed from her parted lips. Her fingers now free from being trapped beneath her were digging into the counter. Her cheek was still pressed to the countertop, her eyes closed, her back arched, as she gave him full access to her ass.

  “Harder.”

  That single word was enough to cause a build up of pressure within him. He was riding the edge already, so he couldn’t give it to her much harder than he had been. If he did, he would shatter in seconds. He was struggling to keep his shit together. But he also wasn’t slowing down. He wasn’t making it sweet.

  He was giving it to her how he wanted to, how she wanted it. Because her growl of defiance was long gone. Every deep plunge caused a whimper she tried to muffle. A cry she tried to hide.

  Why the fuck she’d want to do that, he had no fucking clue.

  But he wasn’t holding back. With each slam of his hips, she milked his dick, pulling a low groan from him. In a desperate attempt to make it last, he’d pull out, pause, before powering forward once again with a grunt.

  He wanted to see her face, see her tits, take her mouth. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight. No, because this was a fucking power play between them. A way to break the tension. To claim what would be his.

  Fuck that. What was his.

  She could fight him on that. But she would lose.

  “That pussy’s mine. Claimin’ it right now. That ass and mouth will be mine, too.”

  Her next “fuck you” came out on a ragged breath, the exclamation point a gasp.

  “Yeah, I’m fuckin’ you and you can’t get enough of it, can you? You like my dick in your cunt. You want more.”

  “Can’t give me more, can you? Not without breaking.”

  Jesus fuck. “Think you’re goddamn tough. Won’t ever be tougher than me.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Trip. I’ve got nothing left to lose.”

  His pace stuttered and almost came to a halt.

  He knew what that was like, too, having nothing left to lose. It could make someone dangerous from their desperation, their will to survive.

  “Told you. You can’t give me what I want,” she taunted him.

  “Bullshit.” He took a handful of her long black hair with those goddamn blue highlights and gripped it tight. He yanked her head up, forcing a gasp from her and her eyes to open. “Want it hard? Want it fast? Want it until it hurts? You fuckin’ got it.”

  “Shut up and do it,” she hissed.

  Even getting fucked, she still hung onto the anger. Still provoked him. She wanted him to hurt her.

  Why? Why the fuck did she want that?

  Why would anybody prefer the pain over pleasure?

  She reached back and grabbed his forearms, digging her black-painted nails into his flesh, ripping his skin.

  He grabbed her hands, torquing them up behind her back until he knew it had to hurt. His arms had been held like that one too many times, right before the cold metal cuffs took his freedom.

  He couldn’t give her the bite of handcuffs, but he could make her hurt in other ways. If that’s what she wanted...

  He took both her wrists in one hand, holding them mid-back, ripped her hair to the side and bit the back of her neck hard.

  She cried out but didn’t tell him to stop as he drove his dick into her even harder.

  It was raw. It was brutal and this wasn’t what he had wanted.

  But it was her words now driving him on. Encouraging him to continue on one breath, while cursing him with the next.

  He wanted to bring her to orgasm, but she was fucking with his head. Her teeth were bared when she sneered, “You can’t make me come.”

  He’d had enough. “Fuck you,” he growled. He released her wrists, jammed his hand between her and the counter, found her swollen, slick clit and pinched it so hard, she bucked against him.

  He ripped her head back again by her hair and sank his teeth into the side of her neck almost hard enough to draw blood.

  She exploded around him, cursing him, the intensity of her orgasm pushing him to his own.

  He drove deep one more time, grunted against her skin, around the hold his teeth had, as his balls emptied. Never in his life had he had such an intense release, his dick pulsing like it had its own heart as he filled the wrap.

  After a few moments, he released both his hold on her neck and her hair and tried to catch his breath. His heart was pounding so hard, his thoughts in such a tailspin, he couldn’t move.

  Not yet.

  His whole being had splintered and he was having a hard time gathering the pieces.

  What the fuck had happened? What the fuck did this all mean?

  “Get the fuck off me.”

  Nothing, apparently. “Gimme a sec.”

  She began to scream, “Get off me! Get off me! Get off me!” causing him to wince.

  What the fuck was wrong with her?

  He straightened and stared down at her as he secured the wrap at the base with his fingers and carefully pulled out, hoping it didn’t spill inside her because it was that full.

  Before he could pull it off and get rid of it, she spun around and shoved him hard, making him stumble back.

  “I hate you!”

  Tears were streaming down her face faster than she could wipe them away. She gave up and jerked up her jeans, securing them, her face pale, her eyes holding a whole mix of things Trip couldn’t even begin to decipher.

  “Stella...” He slipped the condom off, knotted it and tossed it into a garbage pail tucked under the bar nearby.

  “Get out my bar. Get out of my life.” No anger drove those words. Instead it was desolation. Loss. Giving up.

  “Stella—”

  She pointed toward the door, the tears coming unchecked now. “Get the fuck out.”

  He yanked up his jeans. “I’m not fuckin’ leavin’ you like this.”

  “I don’t need you.”

  The deep-seated disgust and pain in those words twisted in his chest. Were they for him? Or herself?

  And then it hit him...

  It wasn’t him she’d wanted, him she’d needed.

  It was punishment. She had needed the harsh punishment for some reason.

  Jesus fuck.

  She had used him.

  Used him to get whatever she needed.

  She sucked in a deep but shaky breath, then screamed, “GET OUT!”

  Before he could catch her, she collapsed to the floor.

  “Stella!”

  He dropped to his knees next to her, sweeping her long hair out of her face. She was conscious but her eyes were empty, even though she was still sobbing hard enough that each one wracked her body.

  “Jesus fuck, woman,” he murmured, scared she had some sort of mental break
.

  Had he drove her to it? Was this his fault? Had he pushed her too hard?

  It was never his intent to hurt her.

  For fuck’s sake, if he caused this...

  “I can’t do it anymore,” she cried. “I can’t.”

  “Hey—”

  “I can’t take anymore. I can’t.”

  “Stella—”

  She wasn’t hearing him.

  “I can’t. I have nothing left.”

  She wasn’t seeing him.

  “I’m empty. I’m empty. I have nothing left.”

  She rolled to her side in the narrow space between the front and back bar. Pulling her knees into her chest, she pressed her face to them and wrapped her arms around her head.

  “I have... nothing left,” came on a broken sob and it fucking pierced his heart.

  He scooped her curled up body into his arms, her fingers automatically burrowing into his shirt under his cut.

  “Nothing,” she repeated, her voice thin as she clung to him.

  He strode to the door leading to the storage area behind the bar and kicked it open. Without missing a stride, he carried her through the dark but clearly empty area which should be full. With boxes of liquor. Empty kegs. Cases of beer. Cases of snack foods. The things needed to run a successful bar. There was none of it.

  He’d deal with that problem later.

  But now he was dealing with the woman in his arms.

  Right now she was his priority.

  He carried her up the back steps to the apartment above the bar. He didn’t want to kick the door in and break the lock, so he hoped it was unsecured.

  It was.

  By shifting her in his arms, he managed to both hang onto her and open the door, using his boot to slam it shut behind him.

  A light over the stove was the only light in the dark apartment until he spotted a switch by the door. He flipped it and muttered, “Jesus fuck,” under his breath.

  The apartment was a complete shithole.

  The furniture, the décor, the wallpaper and carpet from the early ‘80s, if that.

  The place was like an efficiency. There was no separate bedroom. Everything was in one open space and not a big one at that.

  A bed was in one corner, in another an outdated galley kitchen with the old almond-colored appliances, and next to that was what looked like a door to a bathroom, which hung crookedly on its hinges.