TRIGGER: A Motorcycle Club Romance Novel Read online

  Instantly, as though hit by lightning, my cock was hard, painfully so, pressed against my zipper. I gulped, closed my eyes, tried to will the feelings away, feeling ashamed, so ashamed…

  “Trigger,” her voice was soft and sweet in my ear, a caress, her silvery tone like a bell, my balls churning as I imagined her moaning my name into my ear as I plunged into her, drawing forth the pleasure of her body like a fisherman pulls his line in at the end of the long and battled day. My teeth grit together, my lust turning to rage again, the tides changing, it was all happening so quickly…

  I felt my hand ball into a fist and I pounded it into my thigh, as though hurting myself could stop the emotions that roiled inside me. And then I felt her hand land, gentle as a bird, tentative, fearful, on my knee, her body leaning in towards mine, that smell of her intoxicating, and before I could stop myself my hand was wrapped around the back of her head, yanking her towards me, her short surprised gasp swallowed as my mouth pressed against hers.

  I pressed my tongue against her lips, her reluctance fading to surprise as she let me in, my heart racing like a sprinter as I pulled her tighter to me, as though we could fuse our mouths together forever. She made a sound, deep in her throat. I didn’t know whether it was pleasure or pain.

  But it jogged me out of my mindless desire, suddenly reminded me that this was Cass, and that I was never going to be able to give her the kind of love, the kind of gentle and caring love, that she needed. That she deserved. There was an audible sound as I released her and pulled my lips away.

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” I said, feeling shame burning down, tamping down the desire, for now, for the moment, the wide-eyed look she was giving me the opposite of an aphrodisiac. “I’m a fuck. I’m a fucking fuck. I’m sorry.”

  “Thom…” she started to say, leaning in to me again, her cheeks now flushed even in the sickly light from the TV. She was using my real name, which she only did when she was drunk or had something terribly important to say.

  But I rose and backed away, holding my hands out in front of me as though I were warding her off, as though she were some advancing army that I could hold at bay. And with her chest heaving and short, panting breaths, she might as well have been just that, an army of all the things I most desired but knew I could never have.

  “No, I can’t do this,” I said. “You’re Cass. It’s not…I don’t want it. I’m sorry. Good night.”

  Good night? Oh, you’re an even bigger moron than you seem, I thought as I closed the door to my room, separating us, putting an end to a moment that could have stretched out painfully, forever.

  I stood there, back against the door, head throbbing, cock throbbing even worse, for what felt like an hour. At some point, I heard her knocking. Light, so light, and her voice saying my name, sounding like she was calling to me from some other galaxy. I just shut my eyes tighter. I wouldn’t drag her down with me. Even if she didn’t understand…

  She only thought I was good for her because her father had made her feel she was rotten. But she was good, better than me, a million times better than me.

  I was a killer. A murderer. A broken boy from a broken home with no family and no friends and no sense of loyalty to anything or anyone.

  Except for her…

  …which was why I’d never let myself fuck it up.

  “So, ready for another round of Boxers, Bolsheviks, and balaclavas?” Cass said as she opened the book between them. He didn’t respond. She kicked herself for the stupid joke, the too-enthusiastic greeting.

  “Okay, so we talked about Poland last time. So, what were the repercussions of Poland’s resistance?”

  Again, he didn’t respond. Cass was slightly taken aback; she leaned in slightly, trying to catch his eye.

  “Thomas, what’s wrong?” She asked softly, seeing trouble in his eyes.

  “Nothing,” he mumbled. “What was the question?”

  “Come on, we’ve been meeting twice a week for a month now. I know that something’s up. We’re almost done with this unit. Are you anxious about the test?”

  At that, he finally turned to her, anger sparking in his eyes that made Cass shift backwards in her seat.

  “No, Cass, I’m not fucking anxious about the fucking test. There’s more important things than school, you know. We’re not all fucking gunning for Harvard.”

  “Oh,” she said, hurt by his tone. “I’m sorry. I just…”

  He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

  “No, I’m sorry. That was mean. It’s just…it’s nothing. I’m just getting myself all worked up over nothing.”

  Maybe he’s having problems with a girl, Cass thought, the idea putting a pain in her heart though she knew he must have throngs of girls available to him whenever he wanted. Still, the way he looked at her sometimes, made her want to imagine that she was special to him, somehow.

  Yeah, as a friend, she thought.

  “You can talk to me, if you want. But you don’t have to,” she said softly.

  He stared at her for a long moment.

  “It’s just my brother. He’s been gone for a couple days now. Haven’t heard from him. It’s no big deal, though. He’s just out doing business. He knows how to take care of himself. He just usually, you know, checks in. Likes to make sure I’m doing my homework and shit. Like I’m a kid. Fucking annoying, actually, but I don’t know…”

  “What kind of business is it? I’m sorry, that must be hard,” Cass said, leaning in again. Thomas’ eyes glanced away and then back. He shifted in his seat.

  “Uh, the kind of business a girl like you should stay away from,” he finally said. “If you catch my drift.”

  Prostitution? Cass thought, not quite understanding. As though reading her thoughts, he shook his head.

  “Just…dirty business. Can get a little risky sometimes,” he said. “Let’s get back to Poland.”

  “What about your folks? Do they know…”

  “My folks can suck a dick. They haven’t been part of the picture since I was in 7th grade. It’s just me and him.”

  “Oh,” Cass said. “That’s really tough, Thomas, I’m sorry. I know family can be…can be rough…”

  “You think you do,” Thomas said, lashing out again. “But when you get home, I bet someone’s there for you.”

  Cass winced, thinking about how opposite that was from the truth.

  “Not really,” she mumbled.

  Thomas saw the pain in her face and regretted his words. He didn’t even really believe them, although they’d come out of his mouth. A girl with eyes as sad as Cass’ had something gone terribly wrong somewhere. Plus, he could see for himself her bargain-bin style, the way she flinched at loud noises. There were times when, watching her, he wondered who could possibly hurt her. Then there were times when he wanted nothing more than to take all that pain away…

  Now, he did something he hadn’t been brave enough to do in the past. He reached out and grabbed her hand in his. It was so small and soft compared to his own. He felt her at first go rigid, then soften slightly, her eyes widening in shock, her cheeks flaming red.

  “Sorry, Cass,” he said. “I didn’t mean it. I’m just upset.”

  “It’s okay,” she said with a shy smile. He felt a sudden urge to lean in and cover that smile with his lips, to slip his tongue between her teeth, to feel her hair running through his fingers. Immediately, he felt himself hardening, the visions in his head of her soft mouth against his enough to incite a wild desire. He’d been with plenty of girls before, but he’d never been too big a fan of making out. Seemed a dumb prelude to the main chapter. Now, he felt he’d do anything to just kiss her once.

  But she didn’t need that. Didn’t need some soon-to-be dropout getting her heart all twisted up, leading her down the wrong road. He could see the path of his life before him, how crooked it was, compared to her straight-and-narrow. And, though he generally didn’t give a shit about what his actions might do to other people, especially girls, there was too much s
weetness in Cass for him not to care.

  He dropped her hand, shifting again in his seat, pushing it in closer to the desk to hide his erection. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Cass look at her hand as though it belonged to someone else, her face fire-engine red. She, too shifted in her seat, crossing her legs tight.

  “So, right, Poland,” she said, her voice thick. She watched his eyes scan the words, knew he still wasn’t really reading them.

  She felt distinctly uncomfortable, pressed her thighs closer together, a heat radiating from her sex that she’d never experienced before. The image that had plagued her more and more over time – their lips coming together, his hands wrapping around her, his body pressed tight against hers – was trying to take over. She, too, tried to read the words on the page, but they seemed to enter and leave her brain in the same instant. She leaned in, as though being closer to the page could help her focus. When she did, she could smell him, the slight fragrance of his cologne mixed with a smell that reminded her of damp wood. Her thighs clenched automatically, that heat sending a jolt through her. She pushed herself back, terrified that he would somehow know.

  “Listen, let’s just cut it short today,” she said quickly. “You’re obviously dealing with something and…”

  As she spoke, she yanked her messenger bag off the back of the chair and began to stuff her papers and books together.

  “Cass, wait,” Thomas said, but she was already on her feet.

  “Why don’t you, uh, make an outline of everything we’ve been going over, a cheat sheet, and, uh, we’ll talk about it on Thursday, okay?”

  And with that, she left, head down, her lungs opening in deep gasps as soon as she stepped into the fresh air. The whole walk home, she tried to think of nothing.

  But try as she might, all she could think of was him.

  Cass

  He wouldn’t talk to me after that.

  Well, barely.

  I knew he wanted to pretend like it never happened, so I tried to go along with it.

  Why would he want to remember that he’d almost put his dick in a fat, ugly hanger-on like me?

  He could have any girl he wanted. I wouldn’t have been mad if he brought another girl home. I knew he was…well, I knew he was pretty hard-up for someone to sleep with. I knew because all those mornings that he thought he was slipping out of bed before I woke up…

  Well, let’s just say it’s hard to sleep with a broomstick poking you in the back.

  That’s how I made sense of everything, anyway. He was a hot-blooded American teenager who was used to fucking girls left and right (presumably – he didn’t talk about it like that, but I wasn’t that innocent, even back then.) Of course he woke up with boners, and of course he was going absolutely stir-crazy with only me to look at all day and night. And the way he looked at me sometimes…

  Well, it wasn’t the way one friend looks at another. Sometimes it even made me feel like he might have actually genuinely wanted me…

  Because there’s no one else around for him to have, I’d have to remind myself. Girls like me didn’t get guys like that. Never mind that I already had him in my bed a few nights a week; that was different. That was mutual comfort, not raging lust and desire. Not like…not like…like that kiss…

  I guess it won’t come as any surprise when I say that was my first kiss. Not, of course, including Steel. I didn’t count that. How could I? As far as first kisses go, though, Trigger’s was…immense. It shot all of those fairytale kisses and 9th grade fumblings you normally think of straight out of the water.

  At first, I’d just been confused, my brain actually not registering what was happening as a kiss. I thought, wildly, that he had seen something on my face and was trying to help me get it off…with his face. But then his tongue had pressed against my lips so urgently, and I’d yielded, and feeling him against me, the taste of him inside me…oh, if I’d been standing, my legs would have given out.

  It was like being caught in a storm, something larger than yourself, an act of nature that spilled the contents of my soul out into the air. It had lasted forever and not long enough. He’d pulled away, I’d seen that look in his eyes, something like panic…my heart had plunged, knowing that look. It was the look of a man who’d made some terrible mistake.

  I’d wanted to pull him back to me, wanted to grab him and force him back to me, my body suddenly alive with need…but then he’d gotten up, and left me there alone in the dark room with the stupid sound of that stupid movie the only company I had.

  Meekly, I’d realized that he’d just been overwhelmed, mistaken me for something desirable. So I’d tried to tell him I understood, that it was okay, that I wouldn’t ask him for more, when I knew he could never provide more. But he hadn’t opened the door. And I’d just gone back to my bed, to lie on my back, staring at the ceiling in the dark.

  That was a night of two firsts for me.

  I tried to fight it. I was ashamed. The act itself was one thing – the places my mind went, another. But my imagination was unrelenting. Try and try as hard as I could, I couldn’t lasso my thoughts and pull them away from how his lips had felt, how his hand had felt, firm and demanding, buried in my hair.

  As my hand travelled down, slowly, shaking, I’d bit my lip and thought: no, Cass, no, you don’t deserve to think of him like that, he’d be so repulsed to know you’re doing this, lying in your bed and thinking of him, his body pressed against yours, his fingers brushing your hips as they moved downwards, pulling down your panties, parting your lips, brushing..

  I stifled a cry as I dipped one finger into my wetness, my first time touching myself, my desire overwhelming my sense of shame. I slid my finger upward, gingerly touching my clit, my body guiding me to its own needs. Pressing my face to the side, into the pillow, I thought of him, just across the trailer, his strong, lithe body, his stubble, his piercing eyes, all concentrated on me, on taking what he wanted from me. I wanted to give him everything, wanted to feel his thighs shuddering between mine…

  My mouth opened and I bit down hard on my pillow as I came, my legs squeezing tight together around my hand as it rolled over my clit. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, my hips bucking upward, my mind recoiling and rejoicing at the same time over this singular pleasure, hot and burning, of something I knew I could never have.

  That night, I had no bad dreams. Which was good, because I didn’t doubt he wouldn’t be there to comfort me. Ever again.

  The next day, he barely grunted a hello after coming home from work. The same went for the day after. Each night, I felt desire tugging at me as I lay in bed, but I denied myself again and again. Why should I get to feel that sort of pleasure, thinking of someone who only loved me as much as he pitied me? I reminded myself that he’d be disgusted to know the feelings he’d aroused in me. He wasn’t the first man I’d ever been attracted to, but he was the first to conjure up this sort of painful need.

  After a week of this, though, the thing that hurt most wasn’t not having him physically; it was missing him. I missed our movie nights, our talks over dinner. He was like a ghost in the trailer, sneaking around with a scowl on his face.

  I knew it was my fault – somehow, it was my fault. Maybe he didn’t feel comfortable having girls over because of me, and that was the root cause of all this. Then again, there was something more to his misery than unfulfilled lust – I knew that had to be true. I’d been to high school, and I knew what horny boys looked and acted like. Trigger was different. Something was eating him up inside, and he wouldn’t tell me, so how could I help?

  I decided – in a manner quite unusual for myself, I will admit – to take the first step in repairing our relationship. I wanted him to know that I didn’t hold what happened against him, that I understood he’d been confused, that I was always going to be there for him.