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I glare up at him, hating the way my body responds to his nearness. I can feel my nipples straining against my bra. The dampness in my panties could be because of the vibration of his bike, but I know better. I know why I’m wet, and I hate that too.
“What was I supposed to do?” I demand.
Trip’s fists clench at his sides before they come up and unravel before taking my face in his hands. He leans down and kisses me, hard. Our teeth clash together. His grip on my face is borderline painful, but I like it. I enjoy how rough Trip is with me. I can tell myself how much I loathe this and him, but I kiss him back just as passionately. My arms wrap around his neck, and I lean into him. The hard length of him tells me all I need to know at that moment. Trip Baniker is jealous, and he’s ready to stake his claim. A shiver of excitement races through me. Trip’sjealous. I love it.
His hands drop away from my face, and he growls into my mouth as he grabs my hips. With an ease that will never cease to amaze me, Trip lifts me before taking us both to the ground. My back hits the grass and dirt. Dust kicks up around us. I don’t notice any of it. All I can think about is how feral Trip is and how I want so much more. He pulls his mouth away to nip at my neck and fondle my breasts. I arch up into his touch. The action earns me another growl, this time against my neck.
His hands come down the outer side of my thighs to grab and pull my skirt upward. When his fingers find my underwear, he tears them away without ever dragging his lips from my skin. When they’re gone, he fumbles with the zipper of his jeans.
While he’s distracted, I bite his lip hard, willing to risk his wrath to egg him on. His hiss is music to my ears. He barely takes a second to position himself at my entrance before he dives into my wet pussy. I try to cry out at the sharp pain that comes with such a hard move. Trip captures the sound just as it turns into a moan. He thrusts into me ruthlessly, our bodies slapping together without much rhythm. This is desperate. Animalistic. A claiming of my body. I’ve never felt so wanted. I moan as he drives into me harder and faster. I try to help, tilting my pelvis in shallow thrusts as best I can as he pins me to the ground.
The orgasm that washes over me, comes swiftly. My pussy wraps around Trip’s dick with such a grip, he’s forced to slow down. I pull my mouth away as I shout out into the universe, loving how explosive and wild I feel. Trip doesn’t stop. He drills into my body even as his own release is triggered. I can feel his cum spilling inside of me, but he continues his claim until he’s completely finished. When he’s done, he collapses beside me. Both of us lay there, breathless.
“What are you smiling about?” he demands after a few moments of silence.
Am I smiling? It takes a second for me to control my expression. When I’ve managed the appropriate scowl, I roll away and get to my feet.
“What are you? An animal!” I snap at him. Trip’s release leaks down my leg as I take a step away from him. “You can’t just throw me to the ground and have sex with me whenever you want. Stupid, young, and reckless. That’s what you are. What if someone had seen us do this? Then what? Would that be my fault too?”
Ithinkmy outrage sounds legit.
Trip stands and stuffs his dick back into pants. He shoots me an unreadable expression before stalking over to the backpack. He yanks it up and unzips the main pouch.
“Are you deaf now? Explain yourself!” I don’t need him to explain himself. I know what that was and I’m not nearly as unhappy as I’m coming off. But I can’t let him think that I’m starting to enjoy this shitshow I’ve been thrown into.
Rather than reply, Trip pulls out a t-shirt and throws it at me next. I don’t know what he expects me to do with this and I don’t ask. Instead, I reach down and clean myself up. When I’m about to toss it to the ground, Trip moves and snatches it out of my hand.
“Your body is mine, inside and out. That means even this belongs to me,” he snaps and shoves the t-shirt back into the bag.
I huff and roll my eyes. “Whatever.”
“Get on the bike,” he orders, walking over to it himself.
I hesitate only a moment before I follow Trip. A few minutes later, we’re back on the road. Feeling oddly content, I hug Trip’s body to me and enjoy the ride to his apartment. We’re about a quarter of a mile away when we stop at a red light. A white truck pulls up next to us. I try to ignore it, knowing that my skirt has ridden right back up.
“Hey! Hey!” A voice calls to me, muffled by my helmet. I turn to find the driver of the truck with his window down, waving at me. He winks and whistles before yelling out, “How much would it take for you to climb up into my truck? I could show you a good time, honey!”
My gasp is lost beneath my helmet. Underneath my grip, Trip’s body tenses. His foot hits the kickstand. Surprised, I sit up and let go of him. Without missing a beat, Trip throws his leg over his bike and closes the distance between us and the truck. Before I get the chance to lift my visor and call to him, Trip’s reaching into the driver’s window. He grabs the owner of the truck by the neckline of his shirt, then slams his fist into the guy’s face once, twice, a third time, and then a fourth for good measure, apparently. My mouth doesn’t have room to hang open so all I do is stare as Trip steps back, turns around, and climbs back onto the bike.
Just as he settles onto the seat, the light in front of us turns green. My hands fall to his waist, and we take off.
Leaving the truck behind.
Twenty-Six
When we arrive at the apartment, the shock still hasn’t worn off.
We climb off Trip’s bike, and I follow behind him quietly as he leads the way up to the apartment. It’s not until he’s putting his key into the door that I stop him with a hand on his shoulder. Trip freezes, taking his time to look back at me over his shoulder.
“Thank you.” My voice is soft, subdued as I meet his dark eyes. “No one has ever—”Stood up for me, defended me, cared enough to react like that. I can’t say any of that, not to him at least. “—anyway, thank you.”
Trip looks away from me, but he doesn’t continue to try to open the door. He’s silent for a moment before his hand drops away from the doorknob and he turns to face me.
“When are you going to get it?” he asks, glaring down at me.
“Get what?”
“That you’re ours, dollface. No one messes with what’s ours.” He shakes his head.
