TRIGGER: A Motorcycle Club Romance Novel (10 page)

“Neither do you,” he growled. “You know perfectly damn
well you’re the best I could ever
fucking
hope for, so
don’t act like you’re doing me some favor right now.”

I croaked. Literally, like a frog, all I could do was
croak. My hands dropped away from my face and I turned to him, now oblivious to
the tears streaming down my face. His eyes weren’t angry anymore. They were
something else entirely.

“Why,” he asked, voice even but gravelly, “are you the
one crying?”

I couldn’t answer, my eyes trapped in his, our faces
locked, my jaw wired shut with confusion and shame and – radiating from where
his hand clutched my arm – desire.

“You don’t even fucking know, do you?” he finally
said. “You don’t have any fucking clue how much I want you?”

His grip on my arm hardened. He licked his lips,
seeming thirsty, and the way he looked at me…he seemed thirsty for
me.
But I couldn’t believe it, couldn’t
force myself to accept that this Greek god could want to have anything to do
with me…

Before I could form my thoughts into words, he was on
his feet.

“I can’t help it Cass,” he said, his voice all ember.
“I can’t fucking help it anymore.”

“What are you…”

The words were swallowed up as Trigger pulled me to
him violently, grabbing the back of my head again, his lips landing on mine,
hungry and demanding. The smell of his cologne drifted in thin tendrils up my
nostrils as his tongue opened my lips, tickling the roof of my mouth, demanding
my own tongue to respond, sucking it in until I was moaning.

I could feel, against my stomach, through his
sweatpants, his hardness, the massiveness of him like an arrow against my
belly. And then, without warning, I was airborne, Trigger’s arms lifting me by
my thighs as he carried me through the trailer to his room.

I clutched him around the neck to keep from falling.
His mouth never left my flesh, devouring my cheeks and neck and throat. I felt
like my entire body was on fire, the tips of my fingers and toes tingling with
electricity. When he threw me down on the bed, the cheap mattress bounced.

Before I could call them back, my hands were on his
shirt, pulling upwards, revealing his chiseled torso. And then I was kissing
it, feeling the heat of him beneath my lips, my ego erased in desire and
pleasure like I’d never felt before. I wasn’t Cass anymore; I was something
else, some wild beast, an animal in heat, the scent of him pulling me closer
and closer to some uncharted island of ecstasy.

His hands fell to my shoulders and he pushed me back
onto the bed with a growl.

“I’m going to take you now,” he said, covering my body
with his, hands coming to cup my breasts through my dress. He growled again, as
through frustrated, and in a single lithe movement had pulled my dress over my
head. He yanked down the cups of my bra, revealing my generous chest, nipples
hard as rocks already. His hands came to them, kneading, and his head lowered.
My heart raced, my slit dampening under his feral gaze.

When his lips closed around one nipple, flicking
upward slightly with his tongue, I felt as though I could explode right then
and there. I felt his hardness pressing against my panties, his hips moving
slowly, rubbing against the bundle of nerves at my center, making my mind spin
with heat and need.

“Trigger,” I moaned, and at the sound of my voice his
hands on my chest tightened, his mouth suckling harder, his cock sliding
against my virgin pussy promising impossible pleasures.

My cunt was so wet that I could feel the lips parting
underneath my panties as he rubbed against me. My hands fell to his head,
wanting his kiss again, wanting to look into his eyes. I pulled up and he
lunged, covering my mouth once more, the new angle making the head of his cock
press directly against my clit.

My knees raised automatically, instinctively, thighs
wrapping around his waist. He still wore his sweatpants, but I dropped my hands
to the waistband and yanked downward until I could feel the whole length of him
against my still-covered slit.

His hands moved to my hips, lifting my back slightly.
I felt empty. I felt open. I felt a need inside me like I’d never felt before.
I’d never had a cock inside me, but I knew it was the only thing that would satisfy
this hunger. And Trigger’s cock was so close, so tantalizingly close.

“Wait,” he said, pulling back, though I moaned and
pulled at him in protest. “Wait.”

“No,” I said. “I can’t
….I
don’t want to wait…Trigger, I need you…” I tried to lift myself to my elbows,
but he pushed me down, his eyes all business.

“This is your first time,” he said. “It’s going to
hurt unless…”

There was a long pause as his eyes travelled down my
body. All my self-consciousness had faded, erased in the desire of the moment.
He looked at me as though I was the only thing in the world worth looking at.

“Unless?” I asked, struggling against his grip as he
kept me pinned down. His eyes drifted back to my face. He smiled, and it was
like every dirty thought he’d ever had about me was sent straight to my mind,
my spine stiffening with expectation.

“Unless I get you so wet you could drown me,” he said,
his voice like warm lava in my ears, making my heart stiffen and quicken, my
flesh crawl with delirious pleasure. His free hand suddenly fell to my panties,
stroking my slit through the fabric, stopping just below my tender button. His
eyes never left mine.

“I’m wet already,” I said, nearly panting.

“Not wet enough,” he said just as he slipped his
finger over my clit, making my hips buck and thighs clench. His hand stayed
firm on my shoulder, holding me down. I felt his fingers curling around the top
of my panties, a blast of cool air as he pulled them down, exposing me
entirely. As though testing me, he slid a finger up my slit, just barely
entering me, drawing my juices upward to rub against my clit once more.

“Trigger, please,” I moaned. “I don’t know what you’re
doing to me, but…”

“Let me do whatever I want to you,” he growled. His
eyes were still fixed on
mine,
the way a lion might
look an antelope. “I promise, I’ll never hurt you.”

“I just…oh, Thomas, I need you,” I said, eyes rolling
back as his finger traced my slit again, this time pressing slightly deeper.
His head lowered to my ear, his mouth coming to nibble slightly on my lobe,
making my head thrash in his direction, the sensations in my body driving me to
an insatiable place.

“I’m going to fuck you so well, Cass,” he whispered.
“You’re going to be mine forever.”

“Yes, Trigger, please,” I moaned as he slid his finger
up my slit again, this time pressing even deeper, and then lingering longer on
my clit, circling it gently, making it throb and strain for more.

My thighs were clenched tight now, my muscles buzzing
with anticipation, my heart pounding. When he lowered his finger again, I could
feel the trailing wetness. And as he brought it up to my slit, my hips bucked
upwards. His finger hovered just inside me, and his thumb moved to stroke the
side of my clit.

“I want you to come for me now, Cass,” he whispered
into my ear. “I want to feel you spill your juices over my palm.”

“Yes, Trigger, please,” I repeated. “Please…”

He thrust his finger into me, curling it slightly, at
the same moment circling my clit hard with his thumb. My body exploded into
tremors, my thighs opening as my hips crashed upwards, my pussy convulsing
around his finger and releasing a flood of wetness.

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, for a long moment of
total bliss, Trigger’s teeth biting gently against the flesh of my neck, the
slight pain only making my orgasm more intense. Before it was even over, I felt
him roll himself onto me, one hand still pinning me down on the mattress, the
other coming to my hip and pressing it down, my thighs wrapping around him
again as he thrust into me, hard and fast, the first time any man had entered
me, filling me entirely.

“Too much,” I cried out, the sensation overwhelming,
pleasure and pain mixing in a delirium. “Oh, God…”

“No,” he growled against my flesh, holding himself
deep inside me as the last of my orgasm massaged his cock. “Not enough.”

He thrust into me again, the shooting pain of
penetration giving way quickly to a new, deeper hunger. I gasped, my eyes
fluttering open, though all I could see was white light. I held onto his
buttocks, thighs trapping him tight inside me, the head of his cock spearing
downward to a place inside me I’d never known existed.

“I want to fuck you for the rest of my life,” he
murmured into my hair, his hips moving now in small thrusts, as though his cock
was mining me for some deep and hidden gold, some treasure at the base of my
being that only he could uncover.

And with each thrust, my throat released a cry of
pleasure, my body so filled with him that I thought if he pulled out I might
actually die. He lifted himself slightly, moving his hands to support himself
over me, his eyes travelling down my body as he pumped his cock into me again
and again.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Cass,” he growled, his
thrusts speeding up, my virgin pussy wet and throbbing for him, sucking him in.
“Jesus Christ, I…I…”

His body moved against mine faster with each stroke,
his cock spreading me until I thought I might split. Flames fanned my face once
more, and I could feel a wave rising inside me again, a tide of bliss that only
grew and grew until finally, with a single thrust, he tipped me over the edge,
my second climax breaking over me in waves of ecstasy – he held himself deep
inside me then, and I felt something warm and wet bursting inside me. My pussy
clenched and swallowed him whole, it seemed, each spasm of our bodies
synchronized as we gave ourselves to each other, blind and deaf to the entire
world except each other’s heartbeat.

After, when I lay with my
head nestled into the crook of his shoulder, my hand laid on his gently rising
and falling chest, I let my fingers traced the tattoos across his chest. I’d
seen them before, briefly, but never let my eyes linger too long for fear of
him realizing that I was staring. Now, seeing them from this angle, I moved my
mouth against his skin to ask him about them. They were two skulls, each facing
a separate direction, one on each of his
pecs
. When
he answered, his voice was low and rough.

“One’s me, one’s my
brother,” he said. I curled in closer. He’d talked about his brother before, of
course, but never at much length. It was a subject that made him sore, I could
tell. And even now, with my ear pressed tight against his heart, I could feel
the slight change in its beating.

“You loved him,” I murmured,
still half drunk with love. “And you miss him. I’m so sorry.”

“Me too, baby,” he said,
closing his arm tight around me. “But you know? He’d be proud of me, I think.
And he’d have liked you. Always did have a soft spot for blondes.”

I smiled as he nestled me in
tight, my lips still pressed to his burning skin.

“That feels good to hear,” I
said. He pulled away slightly, raising himself above me, one hand slipping
around my lower back.

“It feels good to say,” he
said, moving his lips down to the hollow where my chest and neck met. “It feels
good to be here, to be with you.”

“Oh,” I said, as I felt his
hardness pressed against me once more, the throbbing warmth of him against my
pussy liquefying me immediately. “It does…”

“Nothing ever felt better,”
he said, pushing down into me again, spreading my legs with his hips, his teeth
just grazing my flesh as we clutched each other tighter and tighter, two bodies
seeking shelter in the cold night, love like an orchid coming to life between
us.

Trigger

I’d been planning that day
for a while. It was the first nice day of Spring, or at least it was supposed
to be. When I woke up, nose-deep in
Cass’
curling
blonde locks, my instinct, as always, was to snuggle back in.

I knew, by now, that she
would wake up soon after, and it wouldn’t take too much coy pushing-and-pulling
before she’d roll over, spreading herself for me with that smile I wanted to die
for.

Mornings were nice like
that,
you know? I would always remember the mornings best;
my hips pushing forward slightly, the way her butt would wiggle, then press
back, like she was
pretending
to
still be sleeping. Then a little stretch, a little squeaking yawn, her head
turning slightly towards mine, offering the soft pale incline of her neck to my
lips and tongue, and the murmured not-quite-words, the slow turning of her
hips…

But not that morning. That
morning I had a plan to dazzle her eyes out. At least, I hoped it would. Part
of me knew, deep down, that I was mostly doing it for me. Because it had been a
long time since I felt as free as I did when I had a motor running between my
legs. And I thought Cass, who’d likely never even been on a bicycle, would get
a kick out of it. A real kick. Hell, I hoped she’d get such a kick that she’d
beg me to keep the damn thing, or buy us one of our own.

The hog I was going to pick
up for the day was cherry, which is why I could only afford to rent it. And I
had to go two towns over to do so. Clint, a guy from the shop, had graciously
agreed to give me a ride out there. Frankly, I was surprised the guy didn’t
demand
I
drive out and leave the car
there as a deposit – I hadn’t quite gotten used to how amiable people could be
outside of New York, where it was every man for himself, in the worst of ways.

The whole ride there, all I
could think of was how damn good it was going to feel to have a motor between
my legs again. I hadn’t ridden since Brooklyn, and I missed it more than I’d
ever thought possible. Once I had the bike underneath me, though, and was
winding my way along those country roads, all I could think of was how good it
would feel to have
Cass’
arms clutched around my
waist, her knees squeezing around my hips.

I started speeding a bit as
I came into our town, impatient to wake Cass up and get her dressed and ready
to go. I’d prepared a few sandwiches that morning and thought we could ride up
to this little lake about an hour away, have a picnic sort of lunch and spend
the day exploring the countryside. My heart quickened with excitement as I
rounded the last corner before home.

And then my heart stopped
entirely. Before picking up so fast I thought it might actually beat the bike’s
engine for mileage. Right outside our door, three cop cars were pulled up, two
with their lights still flashing. Cass was in the door, screaming something
into the trailer while a cop held her by the arm, trying to pull her away.

My first instinct was not to
stop; just keep going, just ride on and away, leave the whole messy scene
behind me.

My second instinct was to
jump off the bike and barrel straight into that man who was holding Cass and
pulling her.

Seeing another man’s hands
on her blinded me to the situation, and saving her – protecting her – was my
only desire. She must have heard the bike approaching, because her face turned
to the road, to me, her eyes open and filling with tears, mouth screwed up in
turmoil.

I can’t imagine how she
recognized me, in my helmet. But, then again, I would have known her if she had
a paper sack over her head. The cop’s gaze turned to me as well. Cass opened
her mouth as though to yell at me, but as I drew closer, she stilled her body,
going limp in the cop’s hold. And all she did was shake her head. And mouth one
word.

Run.

But it was too much, even
that little bit was too much. I couldn’t hear what the cop yelled, but he must
have realized what had passed between us, and as I sped past the trailer, panic
in my heart like a hummingbird, I watched five more cops stream out of the
trailer, get into their cars, and give chase. I revved the engine, pushed the
bike to its limit, no idea where I was going to go, no idea how to get myself
to safety, only feeling an increasing dread.

Even then, I knew this
wasn’t going to end pretty.

I was proper fucked.

And all I could think was
how sorry I was.

Sorry for her. Sorry that my
past was going to come between us, after everything.

That I was going to abandon
her to pay for my sins.

I made it ten miles. Ten
long country miles. The sirens behind me blasting, the cars gaining on me, and
then suddenly, at a crossroads, two more cop cars, speeding around the corner.
I was going too fast – I couldn’t stop – they were going to run me off the road
– I’d be dead in an instant – that would be better – then I wouldn’t have to
remember her, miss her…

The squeal of the bike’s
tires as I turned and slammed on the brakes, nauseating skidding as the cop
cars advanced on both sides. I grit my teeth and prepared for death.

But it never came.

The bike stopped inches from
the grill of one of the police cars, and my leg whipped out automatically to
keep it from toppling over. Before I could even give thanks for my life, or
take my helmet off, I felt myself being pulled off the bike violently and
thrown to the ground, the helmet ripped from my head, a knee digging into my
back.

“Thomas Beaumont, you’re
under arrest for gang affiliation, sale of class 1 drugs, possession of stolen
property, and evading arrest
…..
”

As the cop who was holding
me down clicked on the handcuffs, another stood above me, reading off my
rights. All I could see was shiny, black boots. All I could taste was grit in
my mouth. But all I heard was the one thing they never said.

They never said homicide.

The cop took his knee from
my back, yanked me up violently. The sea of faces was grim, their official
disgust palpable.

“Long way to get home, boy,”
one said as I was shuffled past him. My hair, which had only grown longer since
leaving New York, hung in my face, obscuring my vision.

“She didn’t know anything,”
I said, finally, right as the cop whose hands were on me pressed down on the
top of my head to lead me into the back of the car. “She had no idea.”

“What part of right to stay
silent didn’t you understand, punk?” was the last thing I heard before the door
slammed shut, locking me in, locking the world out.

Those were the last words I
said in freedom for eight years. Everything else I said was to a lawyer in a
cell, or a detective in an interrogation room, or a judge in a courtroom, or to
my inmates at my own personal slice of hell known as
Rikers
Island.

And as for Cass?

Well, there was no one on
this earth I wanted to speak to more. And that want became my constant
companion, my sweetest friend.

Of course, she has a
different story to tell about it.

Sometimes, the truth is such
a bitch she might as well be wearing the dress you bought her on a date with
another man.