But I was a fast learner and everything about Ripper had my body screaming he’s worth it, he’s worth it.
He pulled away from me, his expression serious, yet full of unabashed need.
And just like that, seeing that, knowing that look was for me, that it was all mine, the details no longer mattered.
“I ain’t never did this shit before,” he said quietly and I could hear the internal hesitation, the insecurity lacing his words. And, god , it only made me want him even more.
“But I ain’t never wanted pussy like I want yours and…Danny, I ain’t gonna touch another bitch, don’t even wanna. Fuck, baby, since that night at the lake, I haven’t done shit but jerk myself off, thinkin’ of you.”
How could someone so gruff and crude be so soft at the same time? Ripper was perfect. Perfectly flawed and everything I hadn’t known I’d wanted in a man until this…him…us.
He only wanted me. Only me.
“Wish I knew what was goin’ on in that head of yours,” he said quietly.
“Nothing,” I whispered. “I’m just…I think…I’m…”
Just say it. Say it, you chicken! Just say it!
“Happy,” I finished breathlessly. And excited and nervous and pretty close to bursting at the seams.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ripper loved riding. It was one of his few escapes from thinking about the hours of torture he’d spent at the hands of Frankie. So when he wasn’t working or sleeping or eating or fucking, he was riding. Constantly. No plan, no destination, no schedule…just him, his bike, and the open road. Riding gave him the peace of mind that nothing else could, not green, not booze, not pussy, nothing. Riding cleared his messed-up head and cleaned his shit-stained soul. For a little while.
With nothing but road stretched out in front of him and more road behind him, it was just him and his baby, completely in tune with each other. The past didn’t exist, his future didn’t matter; it was only right then, right there, she was him, he was her, they had melded together, had become not man and machine but one entity, lost to an endless stretch of road.
It was freedom and there wasn’t anything more beautiful than freedom.
And all that freedom had just been flushed down the shitter.
All he could feel was her arms wrapped around his middle, her hands resting just above his groin, her tight little body pressed into his, her muscular thighs locked around his hips.
From the moment Danny had climbed on behind him, he’d been hyper aware of everything about her, every slight movement, every part of her that was touching a part of him.
His heart pounded as wave after wave of heat rolled through him, blurring his vision, leaving him fairly certain he was going to run them off the road if he didn’t get his shit together.
Fuck me, she’d said.
He was ninety percent positive that had been the first time Danielle West had dropped the “f” bomb, making those two little words even hotter than they would have been without that knowledge.
Then Deuce had called and torn him a new one because he hadn’t gotten Danny back to the club yet. That’s when he decided this shit between them, whatever it was, whatever was going to happen, was going to have to wait until after lockdown, until they could be alone again…
… until her thighs clenched and her fingers began creeping down his abdomen, to the edge of his T-shirt where she paused, fingering the threadbare material.
His dick went rock solid. Probably punched a hole straight through his leathers; he was that hard.
No. No, no, no. Not now. He had to get her to the club before Deuce called again. If she kept this shit up, he was going to throw caution to the wind and be inside of her in about three seconds.
No? Who was he kidding? He was so fucked. Done for and completely fucked.
He wasn’t going to make it to the club. He wanted that pussy so bad he could fucking taste it. And he couldn’t keep pretending this was just about pussy either. It was more than
He pulled away from me, his expression serious, yet full of unabashed need.
And just like that, seeing that, knowing that look was for me, that it was all mine, the details no longer mattered.
“I ain’t never did this shit before,” he said quietly and I could hear the internal hesitation, the insecurity lacing his words. And, god , it only made me want him even more.
“But I ain’t never wanted pussy like I want yours and…Danny, I ain’t gonna touch another bitch, don’t even wanna. Fuck, baby, since that night at the lake, I haven’t done shit but jerk myself off, thinkin’ of you.”
How could someone so gruff and crude be so soft at the same time? Ripper was perfect. Perfectly flawed and everything I hadn’t known I’d wanted in a man until this…him…us.
He only wanted me. Only me.
“Wish I knew what was goin’ on in that head of yours,” he said quietly.
“Nothing,” I whispered. “I’m just…I think…I’m…”
Just say it. Say it, you chicken! Just say it!
“Happy,” I finished breathlessly. And excited and nervous and pretty close to bursting at the seams.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ripper loved riding. It was one of his few escapes from thinking about the hours of torture he’d spent at the hands of Frankie. So when he wasn’t working or sleeping or eating or fucking, he was riding. Constantly. No plan, no destination, no schedule…just him, his bike, and the open road. Riding gave him the peace of mind that nothing else could, not green, not booze, not pussy, nothing. Riding cleared his messed-up head and cleaned his shit-stained soul. For a little while.
With nothing but road stretched out in front of him and more road behind him, it was just him and his baby, completely in tune with each other. The past didn’t exist, his future didn’t matter; it was only right then, right there, she was him, he was her, they had melded together, had become not man and machine but one entity, lost to an endless stretch of road.
It was freedom and there wasn’t anything more beautiful than freedom.
And all that freedom had just been flushed down the shitter.
All he could feel was her arms wrapped around his middle, her hands resting just above his groin, her tight little body pressed into his, her muscular thighs locked around his hips.
From the moment Danny had climbed on behind him, he’d been hyper aware of everything about her, every slight movement, every part of her that was touching a part of him.
His heart pounded as wave after wave of heat rolled through him, blurring his vision, leaving him fairly certain he was going to run them off the road if he didn’t get his shit together.
Fuck me, she’d said.
He was ninety percent positive that had been the first time Danielle West had dropped the “f” bomb, making those two little words even hotter than they would have been without that knowledge.
Then Deuce had called and torn him a new one because he hadn’t gotten Danny back to the club yet. That’s when he decided this shit between them, whatever it was, whatever was going to happen, was going to have to wait until after lockdown, until they could be alone again…
… until her thighs clenched and her fingers began creeping down his abdomen, to the edge of his T-shirt where she paused, fingering the threadbare material.
His dick went rock solid. Probably punched a hole straight through his leathers; he was that hard.
No. No, no, no. Not now. He had to get her to the club before Deuce called again. If she kept this shit up, he was going to throw caution to the wind and be inside of her in about three seconds.
No? Who was he kidding? He was so fucked. Done for and completely fucked.
He wasn’t going to make it to the club. He wanted that pussy so bad he could fucking taste it. And he couldn’t keep pretending this was just about pussy either. It was more than
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