Not A Peep: A Forbidden, Bully, Dark College Romance, page 25
I frown as I round the corner and head toward the parking lot in the back of campus. How is it that I can feel so torn about my current situation? The fact that I didn’t sign up for any of this should make my feelings on the matter quite clear. Instead, my stomach is in knots for entirely different reasons than worry and fear.
As the parking lot comes into view, I force my gaze away from it. I’m not excited, I’m not excited, I chant over and over even as my feet pick up the pace. My feet falter though when a shadow beneath a tree catches my eye. I turn my head and find a man standing deep within the shade of the tree, watching me. He looks older. Even with sunglasses on and a hat, I can tell by the hard press of his mouth and the slight beer gut that he’s not a student. Maybe he’s a teacher just hanging out? Or maybe he is a student, an adult coming back to school. I suppose that’s plausible.
So why is it that the hair on the back of my neck is beginning to stand up? Is it because of the intensity in which he’s watching me? I know he’s wearing sunglasses, but there is no doubt in my mind that his gaze is locked onto me.
Stop freaking out, maybe it’s nothing…
My gut is always something that I’ve listened to in the past, and it’s never led me astray. Student, faculty, or hell, even a parent, I don’t want to deal with anyone right now. Pulling my purse close, I quicken my pace. I skip down a few steps, hoping that I look more excited than terrified, and hold my breath as I draw closer to the parking lot. There are a few more cars here than normal.
None belonging to the guys though.
As casually as possible, I look over my shoulder. The strange guy is there, following lazily behind me. His hands are in his pockets now and a cigarette sits in his mouth. When he notices my attention, he smiles at me. It’s not a friendly one. Turning back around, I try to assure myself that maybe it’s just a coincidence. He could be heading to his car to go home. At the exact same time I am. To the exact same quiet parking lot. That no one ever uses…
I refuse to look back over my shoulder. This is just paranoia. Right? My resolve wavers. Maybe I should look over my shoulder. What if he’s right behind me? My breathing comes in rapid succession. I blame Joey for this. Before him, I was never a jumpy person. That night, when I came to help Pianna escape his wrath, I never hesitated. I ran into her house. I struck him with a baseball bat…
But then I hit him with my car and left his body in his trailer.
The roar of an engine causes me to jump. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief at the sight of Trip’s motorcycle as it roars into view. He pulls up right in front of me as my feet hit the pavement. He doesn’t even take off his helmet as he unhooks the second one off his side and hands it to me. As I slide the helmet on, I notice two things:
The first is that the guy who’d been coming up behind me is giving us a wide berth as he heads further out into the parking lot. The relief I feel is short-lived when I notice the second thing: my skirt is not made for straddling a motorcycle. I yank the helmet off quickly.
“I can’t ride your bike wearing a skirt!”
Trip pulls up his visor and gives me a once over. “Then you shouldn’t wear skimpy skirts knowing there’s a possibility you’ll be riding with me.” He pulls off his backpack and hands it to me. “Throw your purse in here and carry it for me.”
I grab it out of his hand and do as I’m told even as my cheeks grow warm. “It’s not skimpy! It’s a respectable length—”
“Get on, dollface. You want to wear a skirt and ride a motorcycle, then let’s show the world what a slut you can be.”
Before I can argue, Trip lowers his visor. My cheeks grow warm with humiliation. I pull my helmet on and try, as gracefully as possible, to keep my skirt from riding up while I get on. It rides up anyway. Thankfully, I can manage to keep most of my butt from showing, though my legs are exposed to the elements. I lean forward, pressing my body against Trip’s, and wrap my arms around him.
The motorcycle roars to life and we take off. The vibration of the motorcycle ripples through my body. I bite my lip, trying hard not to think about who my arms are wrapped around or how my butt is nearly on display for every driver we pull in front of. The further we head away from school, the more my skirt rides up. At stop lights, I attempt to fix it, but to no avail. Trip and I are honked at, and at one stoplight a guy even rolls down his car window and whistles at me. I don’t think I could be any more embarrassed.
And what’s even more annoying is I know Trip is taking the long way back to their place. I haven’t been there much, but I have a general idea of where it is. Purposefully, he misses exits and turns, driving in large circles around town. I quietly seethe behind him. He’s probably getting a kick out of knowing that I’m freaking out and unable to stop this madness. Psychopath.
Finally, Trip takes another turn, and we head out toward a two-lane road with a stretch of trees on one side. Then we take another turn, then one more until we’re out of sight of the main road. When he cuts the engine, I immediately climb off the bike and pull the helmet over my head. The backpack is tossed to the ground next, not caring if anything inside it breaks.
“What do you think you were doing?” I shriek, yanking at the hem of my skirt to pull it down to where it’s supposed to be. Trip doesn’t reply right away as he pulls off his helmet, still sitting on the bike. “We could’ve been seen by my boss, other students. And what about your clients?”
“So?” Trip shrugs as he leans forward and hangs his helmet off one of his handlebars. He flings his leg over the bike and stalks toward me. I take a step back as I study his face. The hard press of his mouth and the clench of his jaw are his tells. He’s pissed. Something upset him during the ride around town.
“They could’ve seen you driving around with—”
“—a doll on the back of my bike?” He doesn’t stop walking until our toes hit one another. His eyes are burning with fury as he glares down at me. “Here’s the thing, dollface. While we were riding around, I came to the conclusion that while your ass is fucking delightful, I don’t want anyone to see it. It belongs to me, Grant, and Jay. You allowed everyone in the world to ogle you, and you did nothing. Nothing. dollface.”
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’s jealous. 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?”
I think my 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.
Apparently done with the conversation, he turns and opens the door. I hesitate before following him inside. The smell of food hits me again, just as it had done the night before. I hang the helmet on the hook and place the backpack on the ground by the door.
Trip leaves me at the door, disappearing out of sight. Not sure what I’m supposed to be doing, I walk slowly through the living room and into the kitchen, where I find Jason pulling food out of a bag.
He looks up and flashes me a grin. “Hey, I ordered Chinese food for us. Hungry?”
Food does sound nice. However, last time I ate here, I wasn’t a fan of the seating arrangements.
“Depends. Do you want me on my knees to eat?”
Jason shrugs as he turns and grabs plates out of a cabinet. “Up to you. Do you want to be on your knees?”
Before I can answer, Trip comes back in from the room in the back.
“If you’re unsure, just know that I prefer you on your knees.” he states. Ah, there’s the asshole I know. I’m glad the gallant punch-an-asshole-in-the-face Trip has been put away.
I roll my eyes. “As if I care what you prefer.”
I turn back to Jason and take the plate he hands me. The three of us fill our plates and make our way into the living room. Both Trip and Jason flop down onto the couch and switch on the television. Again, I find myself hesitating. What do they want me to do here? It’s not like we’re friends. So how do I act? Do I join them? Am I expected to be doing something here? Should I ask if I’m allowed to eat? Immediately, I push that last thought aside. I will not be asking to do anything. Especially when it comes to a basic necessity.
Finally, I settle for eating at the counter. Just as I start to turn back around, Jason pats the seat beside him on the couch.
“Come here, dollie.”
I’m annoyed at the relief I feel at being given some direction. Picking up my plate and fork, I walk over and sit between the guys.
“Here,” Jason says and plops a dumpling onto my plate. “It’s pork, that ok?”
I nod and tear at it first. We’re silent as some action movie plays on the large flatscreen television. For the first ten or fifteen minutes, I sit there stiffly, eating and hyper aware of the two guys on either side of me. I can’t stop from stealing glances at them. Both Jason and Trip seem completely at ease. I guess I’m not their doll at the moment. The tension leaves my shoulders and I begin to relax. Soon, I’m tucking my feet under my butt and leaning back against the cushion, enjoying the movie.
It’s not until my plate is empty that I notice either guy’s position on the couch with me. At some point, Jason threw his arm to rest on the top of the cushion behind me and Trip scooted so close that our legs touch. I stiffen in surprise. Then, to my own amazement, I relax back into the cushion. This is… nice. Casual. Rather than be home on a Friday night by myself, I’m hanging out with two guys who want to hang out with me.
My stomach rumbles, letting me know that one plate is not enough to make up for the lack of food today. I get to my feet reluctantly.
“Anyone want anything while I’m up?”
“Yeah, I’d like some more lo mein, thanks.” Jason hands me his plate and I take it. Trip simply waves me away when I look at him. As I move into the kitchen, Jason says softly. “You want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” Trip replies even quieter.
“The blood on your knuckles.”
I pause mid step before shaking off the surprise. How didn’t I notice Trip was bleeding? And how is it that Jason saw it? He’s been facing the television the entire time.
“No.”
“Want me to clean that up for you?” Jason asks, unperturbed by the shortness in Trip’s tone.
There’s a pause before Trip asks, “How were you thinking about cleaning them?”
“Anyway you want.”
The suggestive tone surprises me. I look up from the food to watch Jason scoot across the couch, staring at Trip with a smile similar to the one he’d given me this morning. Trip grins at him and gives Jason his right hand.
“Lick it clean.”
Jason doesn’t hesitate. He takes Trip’s hands and laps at the wounds on his knuckles. My breath leaves me in a whoosh. Did he just… What is going on?
“Good boy,” Trip murmurs, pulling his hand away after a few moments. “Now how about you use that tongue for something else?”
Jason chuckles. “Beg me.”
Trip grabs Jason’s face and leans down so their noses touch. Before any begging can happen, Jason tilts his face up and kisses him. Trip groans as his hands go into Jason’s hair and his fingers dig into those curls. I know how that feels, gripping those soft curls. A shiver of awareness crawls through me.
I stand there pretending I’m not just a tiny bit jealous.
Jason breaks away only to scoot closer to Trip. He pinches Trip’s chin, kisses him again and then breaks it to begin to undo the zipper of his friend’s pants. Trip leans back against the couch to watch Jason pull his dick free. My breath catches in my throat as Jason leans down and takes Trip’s dick into his throat.
Grant told me about the three of them. This shouldn’t be a surprise. Yet watching Jason’s mouth slide up and down Trip’s dick… I feel like I’m intruding on a hot moment between lovers. That is, until Trip looks up and meets my gaze. My heart slams against my ribs as we lock eyes. Jason groans and lifts his head, looking up and turning to look at me too.
