She didn’t answer.

“Just ask.”

“Okay. That you will trust me no matter what.”

Trust didn’t come easy for him. He never trusted anyone, except the brothers. However, she was out of her comfort zone, and she was trusting him with her body, so the least he could do was trust her. Within reason.

“I don’t trust anyone like that.”

“Not even The Last Riders?”

“Except for The Last Riders,” Train clarified.

“And I’m not a Last Rider; is that what you’re saying?”

“Not yet.”

“You don’t give up, do you?”

Train shook his head with a grin. “Not when I care about something.”

“Do you care about me?”

Train held her stare, not letting her look away. “Yes.”

Her body became limp as she twined her arms around his neck. “Do me a favor?”

“You need something to eat or drink?”

“No.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when she licked a path from his neck to his ear.

“I need more action and less talking.”

10

Killyama allowed herself to become more comfortable. She wanted to switch the conversation from anything that concerned their emotions. Unsaid emotions couldn’t come back to haunt you. When they weren’t together anymore, she would eventually get over not having the sex, but feelings always came back to bite you in the ass.

He thought she was being shy, attending her first Last Rider party. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen it all before in the backseat of her car.

All the bitches were jealous. They had all wanted to come. Cade had put his foot down, though. Sex Piston had kept mumbling that Stud would divorce her if she ditched his race to go to a Last Rider party, and she had told Crazy Bitch she wasn’t going without her.

She let Train take over the kiss, knowing men liked that shit.

Killyama lifted one eyelash to see Ember had simply raised her short dress to her hips, sinking down on a condom-covered cock that Crash had readied.

“Holy Moses!” she said to herself, but Train had lifted his mouth from hers at the exclamation.

She hadn’t seen that in the backseat of her car. She would have bitch-slapped any of her friends who showed that fancy shave job to their current dickheads.

Killyama had never been brave enough to go completely bare for three reasons. Number one: it hurt like a mother to have a complete waxing. Second: she preferred the runway effect—it gave the dickheads somewhere to aim for. The final and most important reason: it seriously hurt like a mother.

She might have to reconsider. She didn’t want to be compared to Uncle Fester’s Thing when Train went down on her. A girl had to do what a girl had to do to keep her man happy. However, he had to pass the final test before she decided to keep him, and she was willing to bet the last dollar sitting in her wallet that he would fail. She had never wanted a man to prove her wrong so badly.

The scary part was she was falling in love with him, and she knew he didn’t feel the same. He didn’t tremble when she touched him, nor did he worry about her when she wasn’t there. When she had gotten shot, he had only come to the hospital with Lucky. She had even accepted that he would fuck around on her, which truthfully had never been a deal breaker with her.

Men could be faithful to a job, to their friends. Hell, they would even be loyal to their dog before they were faithful to their wives. That was why she had sworn never to get married.

She wiggled on Train’s lap when he squeezed her thigh before going back to her crotch. He took it as an invitation when, in reality, she couldn’t decide if she was into it or not. It was kind of distracting to see a woman get fucked a few feet away from where she was sitting. Therefore, she tried to focus on Train instead, but it was hard with the music blaring and the woman screaming, “Fuck me harder!”

She buried her head in his shoulder. “If I ever scream that loud, tape my mouth shut.”

Train gave a low growl. “It doesn’t bother me. I think it’s hot to know a woman is enjoying what I’m doing.”

“I don’t think it’s hot. I think it’s called self-control.”

“Don’t you ever just loosen up?”

“No.”

“Try. You might enjoy it.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“You don’t have to take my word for it. I can show you.” He sprawled lower in the chair.

His hard body was always a source of temptation to her. Adding to that, his dark eyes turned slumberous, sending a tingle up her back. The possessive way he looked at her instantly made her wary to what he would do next.

He slid down one tiny strap that held her top up, lifting her up slightly to use his mouth to loosen the material and expose a nipple to his seeking lips.

Killyama wasn’t thrilled about letting the club see her. Her fingers went to his hair, intending to pull him away, yet she somehow lost the will when his teeth bit down on the tender nipple.

She promised herself she would stop him in a minute. Then another one passed, and she found herself saying another. When he moved to her other breast, she almost jumped off his lap, but Train forestalled her, pinching the sensitive nipple he had been torturing and holding her in place as he licked her other nipple

“That’s not fair,” she gasped.

“I don’t play fair.”

She couldn’t move, pinned like an unwilling captive. She was beginning to understand the draw of The Last Riders. They had the uncanny ability to make the women comfortable in their sexuality. They let the women know nothing was off limits. Hell, it was encouraged.

Killyama tried in vain to drag herself to solid ground again. She rose up, gasping out, which only drove her nipple deeper into his suckling mouth.

Staring down at Train with his mouth on her flesh, she let go of his hair to put her hands on his shoulder. She didn’t know if she was trying to get away or give him more. He made up her mind for her, arching his hips so she could feel the hard ridge of his cock against her butt. Wiggling, she tried to ease the ache that had her growing wet, when the snap of her jeans was released.

As she put her hand over his to stop him, she became distracted as Ember and Crash came. She was so hot she felt as if steam was coming out of her jeans.

Train let her hand remain still as she got herself under control, making no effort to continue the heavy petting. Then, when Ember moved away and Crash went upstairs, she forgot all about the others in the room. No one could really see them, not unless they were standing at the bar, and most of them were dancing and playing pool.

Train slipped out of her grasp, and she let him slide his hand down the front of her jeans until he covered her pussy. She locked her thighs together, not to keep him away, but to increase the pressure. Then he stopped, pulling his hand back. She thought he would stop altogether. Instead, he lifted one of her legs over the arm of the chair then put his hand back on her pussy.

His shoulders blocked anyone from being able to watch as he pressed down on her, making circling motions that took all her willpower away. She wanted to stretch out her legs, but he controlled her movements, using his biceps to pin her. Killyama felt as if she were on a rack, breathlessly waiting for him to put her out of her torment.