by Nicole Fox
I shrugged a little. “Yeah, well. Like I said, we might start officially dating. But I still-”
“Just be careful,” J.T. said. “It all comes back around to the same thing. We're a relatively young motorcycle club, and that means that we don't have all of the clout that some of the other clubs have when it comes to the authorities. And that means that things like beating up Gary Ellsmith don't go unnoticed.”
I scowled at him. “So what, I was just supposed to let him-”
J.T. held up a hand. “Of course not,” he said. “What I'm saying is that, if there were ever a time when we needed some sort of legitimate side business, it's now. Just remember that.”
I shook my head. “J.T., I don't think I can get Greyhound Custom Motorcycles for you,” I admitted honestly. “Jessi loves that place, and she's had her heart set on working there for her whole life. I couldn't just take over the place from her; that wouldn't be...” I trailed off, feeling embarrassed by what I was saying. I was basically admitting that I had feelings for Jessi that were stronger than the brotherhood feelings that I had for the other members of the Hounds of Hades.
J.T. was laughing, though, and he clapped me on the shoulder again. “I had a feeling you might say something like that,” he said. “So I bought out Greyhounds' competitors. I figure your girl can keep her dad's shop, and you can franchise the place and run the other shop.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “I don't know that we have enough business that it would make sense to franchise the place already,” I said slowly.
“Maybe not, but you will eventually,” J.T. said. “I saw that portfolio that you left lying around here this afternoon. Your girl is pretty talented.”
I grinned a little. “Yeah, she is that.” I glanced at my watch and downed my drink. “But, speaking of my girl, I have to get to dinner, and I guess figure out some way to tell her that you're planning on franchising the shop.”
“Maybe save that for your proposal in a month or two,” J.T. said, his eyes glinting again.
I rolled my eyes and flipped him the bird as I headed out the door.
At Jessi's place, I rang the doorbell and waited impatiently for her to open it. She beamed at me when she did. “Hey,” she said.
I held out the flowers that I had picked up last-minute on the way over there, and she blinked down at them, looking surprised. “You didn't have to bring flowers,” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “Of course I didn't,” I said, leaning in to kiss her. “But I wanted to.”
“Thanks,” she said, sounding almost shy. She took the bottle of wine from me as well and led me into the house, down the hall and into the kitchen, where Mick was standing at the stove.
Mick glanced over at me and then whistled lowly. “Well, don't you clean up nicely,” he said.
I shook my head. “J.T. said that too,” I complained. “It's not like I look horrible in jeans and a tee-shirt.”
“No,” Jessi agreed. “But you look ...” She cut herself off, glancing guiltily over at her dad, and I wondered what exactly she'd been about to say.
I couldn't help smirking at her. “So, are you going to give me the grand tour of the place?” I asked.
“Dinner's almost ready,” Mick interrupted. “But maybe afterward, she can. For now—sweetie, could you help set the table, please?”
“Sure thing, Dad,” Jessi said. I watched her move easily around the kitchen, pulling down plates, glasses, napkins, and silverware. She handed the plates and napkins to me and led the way out to the dining room, where we began to set the table.
“I'm sure you already know this, but those slacks make your ass look incredible,” she muttered under her breath as she folded the napkins.
I laughed a little and reached out to lightly trace her own bum, sliding my hand up under her skirt for a momentary grope. “I'm sure you already know this, but your ass looks incredible no matter what you are or aren't wearing,” I told her, my tone just as serious as hers.
Jessi flashed me a smile and gave me a quick kiss as she went past on her way back to the kitchen.
“So now that J.T.'s bike is almost finished, what were you thinking of doing with all the free time you're about to have?” Mick asked over dinner.
I took a thoughtful bite of my pasta, chewing slowly. “Well, as a matter of fact, I was wondering if you'd consider letting me stay on as a part-time employee,” I said. “Even if Jessi isn't going back to school in the fall, it wouldn't hurt to have three of us on the shop. We could pick up more business and maybe expand the place a little.”
J.T. would have been proud to hear that response.
Mick frowned at that. “And how exactly are we going to drum up the extra business that would necessitate having all three of us on payroll?” he asked.
I shrugged. “There are other MCs around the city besides the Hounds,” I pointed out. “Plus, with some of Jessi's designs that were in her portfolio ...” I trailed off, looking over at Jessi questioningly. I should have talked to her about this ahead of time. I didn't know if she was okay with her dad seeing some of her latest designs. I knew that she was trying not to rock the boat too much.
Mick glanced between the two of us. “I'd like to see your designs sometime,” he told Jessi, after clearing his throat. “And I think that you should go back to school in the fall still. Things will be fine around the shop with Rip continuing to work here, and I'm sure that you're learning a lot of useful things in your courses.”
Jessi gaped at the man for a moment. “Dad,” she started, but then she stopped, looking like she didn't even quite know what to say.
Mick took another deliberate bite of his pasta. “Jessi, I've been thinking a lot about all of this over the past little bit,” he finally said, after he had chewed and swallowed. “I only wish that I'd had some sort of a mentor to help me achieve my artistic best. Maybe that's why I wasn't able to design a bike that J.T. wanted. I just don't know enough about designing bikes that I can design one for other people, rather than just for myself. You have some incredible vision, and I can already see the way your work around the shop has been changing. I think you'd be doing yourself—and Greyhound Custom Motorcycles—a disservice if you quit with your classes. Now that Ellsmith isn't going to be in the picture anyway ...” He trailed off with a shrug.
Jessi picked at her pasta, looking as though she hardly dared to look up at her dad. I reached out under the table and squeezed her knee, hoping to give her some little bit of comfort, to remind her that I was sitting there as well and that everything was going to be okay. “I thought you didn't want me to have any part of this world,” she said.
Mick sighed. “I'm not saying that I'm thrilled with you dating a biker dude and working in the shop,” he said. “But I guess it's my own fault for raising you half in the shop anyway.” He grinned a little. “Plus, I have to say, I did always kind of hope that my daughter would be into bicycles and classic rock...”
Chapter Thirty-One
Jessi
After dinner, Rip and I cleared the plates, and I washed them in the sink while he dried everything and Dad put away the leftovers into various containers. Then I turned towards Rip, wiping my hands dry on a towel. “So, you wanted the grand tour?” I asked, looking almost nervously toward Dad.
“Yeah,” Rip said. “I mean, if that's okay.” I could tell from the way that he said it that we both knew what was going to happen the minute we ended up in my bedroom. And from the knowing look that Dad gave the two of us, he knew as well. But it wasn't as though he could say anything. I wasn't technically missing my curfew if I was already there, and he had given me some permission to see Rip. He hadn't said that I wasn't allowed to have the man back to the house every once in a while.
“Yeah, let me show you around,” I said. “You've already seen most of the first floor, of course.”
When we got up to my bedroom, Rip very carefully shut the door behind us, raising an eyebrow at me. “So this is your bedroom,” he said.
“
This is it,” I said, glancing around and hoping that there was nothing too embarrassing left out in plain view. The place was pretty clean, but it was a bit cluttered at the moment, with all of my schoolbooks taking up practically every available surface.
Rip moved carefully into my personal space, resting his hands against my hips and leaning down so that his forehead was pressed against mine. “Not going to lie, I've been various shades of turned on since I groped you down in the dining room,” he said.
I laughed a little. “Oh, really?” I asked. “Maybe there's some kind of lesson there.”
“Get here early so that we can have sex before dinner next time?” Rip asked cheekily, and I couldn't help giggling.
Rip's fingers came up to play with the hem of my shirt, asking a clear question. “Is this okay?” he said. “I know last night-”
“I don't want to think about last night,” I told him.
“Okay,” he said simply, and he set about helping me forget all about Ellsmith's advances and everything else.
The kiss was tender and sweet, his lips moving almost lazily against mine. I stumbled a little toward him as his arms came around me, dragging me forwards, but he caught me easily and steadied me. We made out sloppily until my lips were swollen and my whole body was flushed with pleasure, and that's when he finally pulled back and slid my shirt off over my head.
He blinked down at my naked breasts and reached out to experimentally roll one of the nipples between his fingertips. “You're not wearing a bra,” he said, surprise coloring his words.
I blushed a little. “It's more comfortable this way,” I told him, “and we weren't going anywhere, so… Plus, I knew you'd have me up here sooner or later.”
Rip shook his head and leaned down to kiss my pulse point, setting my heart rate fluttering and fast. “You're quite the minx, aren't you, darling?” he rumbled, his fingers sliding sensuously down my sides and tugging down my skirt and panties in one easy move.
I stood there naked in front of him, biting my lower lip a bit as I watched him strip off his own clothing, piece by piece, moving slowly and letting me catalogue each new swath of skin that was revealed. I couldn't help making a soft noise as he slid off his boxers, his prick bouncing in the air between us. I reached out a tentative hand and thumbed at his slit, finding that it was already a beading damply with precum.
I dropped down onto my knees in front of him, leaning in so that I could get my mouth on him, something I'd been replaying over and over in my head since I had blown him that night in the clubhouse. Rip groaned his appreciation as I sucked at his tip and then mouthed my way along his shaft, swirling my tongue along the delicate skin there.
He wasn't demanding, as he had been at other times. Instead, it seemed like he was content to let me set the pace of everything this time. I wondered if he was worrying that he might scare me after the whole thing with Ellsmith. Or maybe he just wanted to let me call the shots for once. Either way, I appreciated how he was holding off. It was sexy when I knew that, if he had his way, he'd already be thrusting deep into my mouth.
His hand did come down to tangle in my hair, but he didn't use it to pull me or guide me in any way. Instead, it just stroked softly through my hair, his fingernails scratching lightly at my scalp so that I shivered a little in pleasure as well. I couldn't help dropping a hand down between my legs, playing with my clit as I pumped at his prick.
Rip reached down to put a hand on my shoulder, halting my movements. “Bed,” he said, sounding and looking just as turned on as I felt, his face a little flushed and his eyes gone dark with lust.
I pulled myself to my feet and scooted over to the bed, swaying my hips a little more than I normally would, feeling Rip's eyes tracing my curves as I went.
“God, you're sexy,” Rip said, and I giggled a little as he clambered on top of me. He grinned down at me, spreading me out there on the sheets and then leaning down, just staring at me for a long moment.
“What?” I finally asked, when his eyes refused to leave mine and yet he refused to do anything else except stare at me. I squirmed a little, missing the hand between my legs.
As I tried to go back to touching myself, Rip caught my wrist, shaking his head, still grinning at me. “Oh, no,” he said.
“Rip,” I whined. “If you're not going to let me ...” I gasped as he trailed his fingers across my nub, and I couldn't help rocking against his hand, moaning again as the very tips of his fingers dipped inside my entrance. He continued to caress the soft folds there and then pulled back, wrapping a hand around his package and stroking himself to full firmness.
He plunged inside of me, penetrating deep into my warmth, and we both groaned in unison.
“Fuck,” I whimpered, unable to explain how perfectly he completed me in that moment.
“Yeah,” Rip agreed breathlessly. He began to move his hips in a slow, circular motion that dragged at my pleasure points and had me clinging to him within moments. On each drawn-out upstroke, he seemed to bury himself deeper inside of me, until I could feel his member in every fiber of my being, as though we were being melded together, never to part.
I twisted my head to the side, pressing my face against his forearm where he was resting his weight against the bed. He slowly lowered himself down so that he could kiss me sloppily once again. The kiss was firmer than before, and I shivered as he filled my mouth with his tongue, even while he filled my needy pussy with his thick cock.
He pulled back from the kiss just when I was becoming breathless, but he didn't give me time to recover. Instead, he gave a few quick, hard thrusts into me, sending me spilling over into oblivion. I came hard, feeling as though my whole body fell suddenly slack, like a marionette whose strings have been cut.
I was shaking by the time Rip came, and I could hardly breathe as he fucked me through it all, ignoring how overstimulated I was, ignoring the way I gasped and clung to him. He spilled into me in seemingly endless waves of passion, and then finally fell still.
We lay there for a long moment, until he finally dragged his head up, grinning crookedly at me even as his fingers slid between my legs, offering me more. I practically sobbed as my pleasure started to build again. I could already tell it was going to be a long night.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Rip
I glanced over at Jessi's face, seeing the excitement and nervousness there in her eyes. This was it—the big moment that she'd been waiting for. J.T.'s bike was finished, and it was time to give the keys to him.
The bike had really turned out well, I thought. We'd made a few modifications to it from the original design that Jessi had come up with, mostly at Mick's suggestion, but everything seemed so perfect for J.T., to be honest. I couldn't believe that she had managed to capture the man's essence so easily, especially given that she hardly knew the guy.
But then again, having grown up around Greyhound Custom Motorcycles, I guess she had to know the biker type, and J.T. was about as stereotypical as they came.
“Relax,” I said to Jessi, reaching over to squeeze her hand lightly.
She tried to smile over at me, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. “What if he doesn't like it?” she asked fretfully. “I mean, it's one thing to see the thing, but when you're riding on it, there's so much to the feel of the bike as well. What if it-”
“You rode it, didn't you?” I asked.
“Yeah, I took it out yesterday afternoon,” Jessi said, bouncing a little on her feet, clearly impatient to get this whole thing over with.
“Then you know exactly how it feels,” I pointed out. “Would you have changed anything about it?”
“No, but I'm not J.T.,” she said, shaking her head. “What if-”
“Jessi, if he doesn’t like the bike, I'm sure you'll find someone else who wants to buy it off you,” I interrupted. “Seriously. She's a nice bike.”
“You never rode her,” Jessi protested. “I'm the only one that test-drove her—even Dad didn't have a chance to d
o that. So you're just saying that. He really could get on the bike and hate it. It doesn't matter that I think it felt great. It just matters what J.T. thinks, and I'm telling you, he's going to get on that bike and-”
I grinned cheekily over at her, heading off the rest of her panicked ramblings. “You think I never rode her?” I asked. “I took her out a few nights ago, before we finished all the detailing. I wasn't about to tell J.T. that we had built the perfect bike for him without knowing for certain that we had built the perfect bike for him.”
Jessi gaped at me for a moment and then reached out to punch my arm. “You're not supposed to do that!” she cried. “And what, then you reset the odometer to zero?”
“Of course,” I said. “I wanted you to think you were getting on a brand-new bike as the first person to ride it.” Jessi scowled at me, and I laughed. “No, actually—that was how I found out that the odometer wasn't working. That's why we did work on it the next day.”
