Page 18 of Trip

“Sorry, I guess I made it a thing by not wanting to make it a thing. It’s just… sometimes people act weird after I tell them, so I don’t. I just eat what I want and don’t mention why I chose a salad.”

“No apologies needed; I get it. I have a friend who’s vegan and I see the way people look at her when we both order a salad, but I do it because I’m on a diet and she does it for the animals, as she says. People look at you weird for personal choices sometimes. I say live and let live. But hey, you better not give me those puppy eyes while I’m chowing down on meat. I won’t look at you differently if you promise the same.”

Trip loved that she was just chattering away and cooking for him. “Never, babe.”

“Good. Now try that and tell me how I did.” Trip took a bite and moaned. It was heaven. Not that the food wasn’t something he’d eaten a million times, but because she made it for him. The old saying is true, you can taste the love.

“Oh, here. I assume it’s still your favorite?”

JJ set an enormous bottle of Texas Pete hot sauce by his plate. She remembered.

After dousing the burrito in red deliciousness, Trip pseudo proposed. “Fuck, Jessika, will you marry me because I can’t live without you if this is how life could be?”

He said it in jest over hot sauce, but if she said yes, he’d have no problem hauling her ass back to Vegas and making it happen.

JJ gave him a flirty look. “Well, not sure my adoring fans would like it if I married. So, I’m going to have to pass, but that doesn’t mean you can’t donate a few more orgasms to my not-so-starving artist fund.”

Trip stopped mid-bite. “Fans?” Shit, she had fans. Was she in a show on the strip?

“Yep. I’m with Neon Talent. I mostly do small business modeling. Local stores and lines, but it pays the bills and I love it.”

Neon Talent. He knew the name. Where had he seen— “Holy shit, you’re JJ Mac. You did the calendar and the shoot at the garage.” As secretary, Trip had handled all the paperwork on the shoot with Neon. He didn’t know she was that close to him.

He’d planned to go to the shoot, but he had to do Ozzy a solid that day and missed it. His brothers told him about the hot models. Most drooling over JJ Mac. Fuck. Taps had practically popped wood on the spot when he talked about her straddling the custom, and Whiskey had been little better because it had been his bike.

“I’m going to kill them.” Every word about her tits that had flown past Taps’s lips was a rubber chicken finger flinger he would shove up his ass. Maybe an acid bath would wipe all traces of her from Whiskey’s sled.

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who are you planning on killing?” Trip hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.

“Taps and Whiskey and any other Phantom who ogled you that day. Did any of them touch you?”

“Why, Cristofer James Adams, are you jealous?” she asked, with sugar dripping from her lips and batting her eyes. Trip snagged her around the waist and pulled her in close, nuzzling her belly.

“You bet your sweet ass I am.” He yanked her down in his lap. “Now tell me,” he demanded, while rocking her back and forth over his growing cock. A possessiveness unlike anything he’d felt before took hold of him.

JJ didn’t answer, just closed her eyes and matched his motion with a moan. “I like you like this,” she panted.

If she liked him jealous, then that’s what she’d get. One hand rose to her neck, applying pressure until her eyes flew open. “Take my cock out.”

JJ fumbled around blindly because Trip didn’t allow her room to look down and he never broke eye contact. This wasn’t something he did often but found he couldn’t help himself with her. When she freed him, he forced them both to stand, helping her drop his pants. He sat and she adjusted herself on his lap. “Now fuck me.”

She moved her underwear to the side and slid down his cock, sighing when she was sitting back on his lap. Trip rested his other hand on her hip while she moved up and down his cock. “Tell me.”

His grip wasn’t punishing, nor did it stop her from talking. “No. I mean, not more than…anyone I meet.” That wasn’t the start to an answer he liked, but he knew his brothers wouldn’t push past what a woman allowed.

“Did they say anything inappropriate?” He gritted the words out between her hypnotic movements. It was all he could do to not toss her on the floor and fuck her into the linoleum.

“Of course… they’re bikers.” She rolled her hips and Trip almost shot his load. “But they… were harmless.” She came on the last syllable and Trip followed.

When he caught his breath, he stood and carried them back to bed.

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