Page 25 of Trip (Sons of Hell MC #11)

I paused to unfasten my robe, letting it sweep silently from my shoulders.

The blue fabric glided down my arms and caught at my elbows.

I took a moment to drink in the view of my nude body and tried to imagine what Trip saw when he looked at me.

I never considered myself one of those girls, like the pretty ones who had men falling at their feet.

I knew I wasn’t a dog, but while most of my friends growing up preferred dresses and makeup, I was more of a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl.

I rarely used makeup. I never wore a fucking dress unless my mother threatened to scalp me bald, and I couldn’t care less about all the latest fashions.

Honestly, I was a tomboy through and through.

Yet, the way Trip looked at me made me feel as if I were the most beautiful woman in the world.

He had always shown appreciation for my body, but his enthusiasm for my curves—the way he was always touching me, as if he were memorizing every bend and curve like his hands mapped out a track he couldn’t wait to ride—set me ablaze.

A wave of loneliness washed over me as my hand lingered, tracing the contours of my body, each touch a painful reminder of what I would be missing if I chose differently.

My fingers, clumsy and desperate, fumbled with my clit, as my body begged, pleaded with me to change my mind.

Tears welled, blurring my vision as my fingers moved slowly, and a hollow ache spread through me.

That night at his house, when he told me everything, he didn’t just give himself to me; he gave me everything, his heart and his soul.

And when he made love to me, it wasn’t hurried or rushed.

He took his time and savored everything about me, about us.

That night he showed me another side of him, the real him, and that haunted me.

My breath hitched as desperation for him clawed at my throat.

My hand gripped my breast harshly, my touch rough and forceful, reflecting the inner turmoil I couldn’t contain.

The mounting intensity of my pleasure pushed me to the edge of desperation.

The need for release consumed every fiber of my being.

Then I felt him.

My eyes snapped open.

“Trip,” I breathed heavily as his arms slipped around my waist, then up to cup my breast.

“Let me, Slick,” he purred as he licked the side of my neck and pinched my nipples.

His hands moved with a purpose, his touch both possessive and adoring.

His lips found mine, his kiss deep and passionate, and I melted into him, my body responding to his with a familiarity that both excited and scared me.

I knew I should pull away, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Not when his touch ignited a fire in me that I had never known before.

Not when his kisses left me breathless and wanting more.

A moan escaped my lips as his hands moved lower, his fingers skillfully teasing and tormenting.

My body arched into his touch, my breath coming in sharp gasps as pleasure coiled tightly within me.

I could feel the tension building, a delicious ache that begged for release.

His mouth trailed down my neck, his breath hot against my skin as his hands continued their exploration, claiming me as his own.

With a final, shuddering touch, I cried out, my body surrendering to the pleasure that had been building. He held me tightly, his breath ragged as he whispered my name, his voice thick with desire.

I turned in his arms, my eyes searching his, and I saw the same longing and need that I felt.

Then he grabbed my ass and lifted me from the floor, my robe bunching at my thighs as I wrapped my legs around his waist. His eyes held mine captive, and the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine.

I felt exposed, my emotions laid bare, yet I couldn’t look away.

His hands tightened on my body, his thumbs brushing my sensitive skin, and I shuddered, my body responding instinctually to his touch.

I wanted to resist, to maintain some semblance of control, but my willpower evaporated in the heat of the moment.

My hands found his shoulders, and my fingers curled into his skin as I leaned in and kissed him.

A rush of emotions swept over me as he deepened the kiss.

I felt vulnerable, yet empowered. I knew I was giving in to my desires, but at that moment, I didn’t care.

Trip’s touch ignited a fire within me that threatened to consume me, and I wanted to burn with him.

I could feel his heart thundering against my chest, mirroring my own erratic pulse.

As our lips parted, I whispered his name, my breath hot against his skin.

His eyes, dark with desire, searched mine, as if seeking permission or assurance.

I offered him a small smile as my hands tangled in his hair and pulled him closer.

In that moment, I knew I had made my choice, but it was a choice my heart had made long before.

His hands moved to my hips, his thumbs brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.

I felt a rush of desire as he placed me onto the counter, our eyes locked, communicating a thousand unspoken words.

His touch was both gentle and demanding, sending shivers of anticipation through me.

I knew what was coming, and my body craved it with an intensity that surprised me.

His mouth found mine again, his kiss hungry and insistent.

I tasted the salt of my tears on his lips, a poignant mix of sadness and desire.

I ran my hands through his hair, holding him to me, unwilling to let go.

My heart raced as his hands moved up my thighs, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

I felt exposed, and vulnerable, and utterly his.

With a gentle touch, Trip parted my thighs, his eyes dark with hunger.

I felt a rush of heat as his fingers found their target, stoking the flames of my need.

My breath hitched as he teased and tormented, his touch both sensual and skilled.

I was putty in his hands, my body responding with a desperation that mirrored the turmoil in my heart.

I knew I should feel guilty, but right then, all I felt was a profound sense of longing and a desperate need for this man.

His touch was like a brand, searing me with a need that went beyond the physical.

I felt consumed by him, my body alive with a hunger that only he could satisfy.

In that moment, I knew I was his, and the thought both thrilled and terrified me.

My hands moved of their own accord and explored the contours of his muscular back, feeling the power that lay beneath the surface.

His kiss deepened, and I tasted the sweetness of our passion, a heady mix of want and need.

I could feel his desire, a mirror to my own, and it only fueled the fire burning between us.

His hands moved with a purpose, his thumbs pressing against my sensitive clit and sending shocks of pleasure through me.

I was aware of every touch, every sensation, as if my body had come alive for the very first time.

The world beyond the bathroom faded away until all that existed was the heat of our passion and the desperate longing that had brought us to this point.

I wanted to feel him, all of him, and my hands moved to the waistband of his pants, eager to return the pleasure he so skillfully gave.

With a growl, he lifted me further onto the counter.

His eyes never left mine. The intensity of his gaze held me captive, and I felt a rush of emotions—desire, fear, and a longing so deep it took my breath away.

I knew I was falling, surrendering to something far more powerful than I had ever known, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to look away.

His thumbs brushed my clit, and I arched my back, a moan escaping my lips as my pleasure coiled tighter, threatening to consume me.

“I need you,” he rasped as his arms tensed around me.

Then he pulled me off the counter and carried me into the bedroom before tossing me on the bed.

My robe forgotten, I watched as he licked his lips and kneeled on the bed.

He gripped both my wrists in one hand and held them above my head on the mattress as he flicked my robe aside. “You’re mine, Slick. All of you.”

His eyes devoured my body, a hunger in their gaze that made my skin tingle. Leaning in, he gently encircled my nipple with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth. He suckled gently before releasing my nipple, then lapped at the peak.

I knew I should have felt guilty for what I was giving up, but instead, all I felt was a profound sense of longing and need for this man.

A smile flitted across his face, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what he was thinking; yet, I laid there and watched as he slowly, deliberately removed his jeans.

He looked up, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he caught me peeking, and gave me a slow, knowing smile as he gently eased my thighs apart.

He slid his fingers through my slick folds and groaned, “Oh, Slick,” before slipping two fingers inside my wet pussy and stroking me.

My muscles contracted around him, and I jerked at his familiar touch.

His thumb massaged my clit with a touch that was both commanding and tender, and his eyes never left mine as he worked his magic.

I felt a rush of emotions as he worshipped my body with his hands and mouth, a heady mix of desire and vulnerability.

His thumbs brushed my inner thighs, sending shocks of pleasure through me, and I knew I was his.

I surrendered to the sensations, my body arching and begging for more.