Earning the Cut (Riding the Line Series, Prequel) (4 page)

“Shall we?” He held out his hand and helped her step into the vehicle. It was no fancy sports car or limousine, but it would do.

***

He hadn’t told her where they were going or what they were doing, just that she should wear sneakers. They exchanged anxious smiles as they sat huddled in the very last set of seats. There were a few others on the late bus, and he had to wonder where they were going. No one seemed to notice them, and he figured that was a good thing.

“I feel so naughty!” Trish giggled nervously.

He smiled. “That’s good. I like naughty.”

“Dax!” she said, in mock outrage, punching his arm.

He gazed at her, feeling desire heat his blood as he pulled her into his lap. Tonight was going to be the best night of his life.

***

When she saw the little set-up at the cove, he hadn’t been expecting Trish to cry. He held her hand as they walked down the steep hill, and then he directed her to take off her shoes. They walked in silence down the beach breathing the salty air. Then, Dax stopped and veered back up towards the cliff.

“This way.”

“Um, okay,” she said, as he led her to a large rock and directed her to sit down.

“Close your eyes ‘til I say, okay?”

Obediently, she closed them, pulling her legs beneath her and folding her hands into her lap. Dax went to work, pulling the blanket from his backpack. In no time, he had the tattered comforter from his bed laid out and a few candles he had borrowed from the Bodecker’s kitchen lit up and stuck in the sand. The spot he had chosen was sheltered from the wind by a hollowed out section of cliff that came out into the sand almost like a shallow cave. He set out a little leftover cheese and crackers along with a half-bottle of wine Mrs. Bodecker had left sitting in the fridge. Finally, he pulled the daisies he had jacked from the neighbor’s garden from his backpack. They were slightly crushed, but he tossed them haphazardly onto the blanket.
Not bad for a high school kid with no cash,
he thought to himself. Then, he approached his girl, who perched on the rock, waiting expectantly.

Dax climbed up behind her. “Don’t open your eyes yet,” he whispered into her ear, knowing that his warm breath against her sensitive flesh would tickle. Sure enough, Trish let out a low gasp as he nuzzled the spot at the back of her neck, settling himself behind her on the boulder. He pulled her back into the protective circle of his legs and wrapped his arms around her, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

Dax closed his eyes for a few seconds, letting the security and comfort fill his soul. When he was with this girl, he felt connected to something, grounded. The wandering anxiety that seemed to pervade his body at other times receded into the background of his awareness. He didn’t need anything else when he was with her. “Okay,” he breathed. “You can look.”

The candles flickered against their sandy backdrop, illuminating the hollow rocky shelter behind it. The white and yellow daisies made little splashes of color against the blue blanket canvas. For a few agonizing moments, Trish said nothing. Nothing at all. He wondered if he had made a grave mistake. Maybe he should have pocketed some jewelry from the mall. Then he realized that tears were slipping down her cheeks. Dax jumped down from the rock.

“Baby, did I do something wrong?”

“Dax…it’s just…I love you so much.” She launched herself into his arms, her mouth connecting with his so hard their teeth clacked together. She was a lot smaller than him, and he plucked her right off the rock, picking her up as though she were a child. Laying her carefully on the blanket, Dax kissed her reverently until she gasped, her blue eyes dilating with passion.

“So, is this my birthday gift?” she asked huskily. “You?”

“If you want me.” The words held a lot of different meaning for Dax. Part of him still couldn’t believe that this smart, beautiful girl was attracted to him, loved him. He realized that other than Trish, he couldn’t recall anyone ever telling him they loved him. His heart swelled so much it actually began to hurt.

“I want you, Dax. More than anything. I’ve never felt this way before…” Her hand snaked into his waistband, her fingers slipping around the hot, raging flesh that struggled in the confines of his jeans. “Looks like you want me, too,” she commented saucily.

He could hear the smile in her voice mingling with wonder as she moved her hand slowly up and down, her thumb grazing the sensitive tip of his cock. Now, it was his turn to gasp. “Darlin,’ if you keep that up, this won’t go much farther,” he ground out.

“There’s something I want to do, Dax. Please?”

Suddenly, she was on top of him, urging him to lie down on his back with a gentle nudge. Her hands went under his shirt, feeling the muscles there. “God, Dax. You have, like a man’s body.”

The feel of her soft, small hands on his chest made him grunt with pleasure as she squeezed, testing the muscles there. Her voice floated to him. “I want you to close your eyes now. And don’t open them ‘til I say.”

He nodded, unable to speak. It was hard for him, he realized, to obey her command. But, it was sexy too. He closed her eyes and nothing happened for several long seconds. Then, he felt her fingertips ghost down his belly, her nails leaving light trails of sensation. She traced the blond trail of hair that ran from just below his navel to disappear into his jeans. Then, her mouth followed the same path as her hands and he felt his buttocks squeeze involuntarily.

“Darlin,’ what…”

“Shh!” she silenced him. Dax lay there, quivering with anticipation as her hands went to the front of his jeans.

Hearing his zipper being drawn down was an erotic torture all on its own. He was so hard he ached. Trish reached into his boxers and it was all he could do to avoid coming right there. Hazily, he recalled that night was supposed to be about her! It was her gift. He had planned to draw out her pleasure as best as he could in an attempt to make their first night of passion more memorable than a clumsy premature ejaculation. A girl’s first time hurt, and he didn’t want to hurt Trish. No, just the opposite. He wanted to make her scream his name over and over again. He opened his mouth to tell her so, that she needed to stop, or their night of passion would be over before it began. Before he could get out a single word, he felt her tongue on his cock, and he hissed with the novel feeling of pleasure. She hadn’t ever done that before.

“Wait!” he gasped, as his balls tightened against his belly. Then, her sweet, pink mouth engulfed him and he arched into her mouth, his hips working reflexively.

“Jesus!” The feel of her warm, wet mouth sucking gently on the swollen head of his cock was his undoing. Dax cried out, his hands entangling in her hair. His orgasm rocketed through his body, starting at the tips of his toes and exploding into her mouth. He fell back, heaving with pleasure. Trish leaned over him, a grin on her face as she stuck out her tongue to collect a single pearly drop that lingered at the side of her innocent-looking mouth.
How could she look so naive and seductive and the same time?!

“Now that we have that out of the way,” she said, straddling him, “we have all night to do everything else.”

Dax raised a brow and her saucy comment. “Where did you learn that?!”

“Let’s just say I’ve been doing a little online research.” Trish said, a blush darkening on her cheeks. “I want our first times to last.”

At that, Dax laughed aloud, shifting so she was beneath him. He levered up on his elbows to stare into her eyes. The night was warm and the breeze was as soft as the sound of his own voice. “Take off your clothes, darlin’. All of them.” Her eyes widened at the dominant undertones lacing his command. Then, she obeyed.

***

Dax could hardly recall getting home. He rode the early morning bus back with Trish and insisted she let him walk her back up the hill. He wasn’t satisfied until she signaled him by flashing her bedroom light. If he had felt protective of her before, his feelings had now increased tenfold. He made it into bed about forty-five minutes before the sun came up. Dax spread his comforter back onto his bed. The scent of their lovemaking lingered on the blue fabric and he felt himself hardening again as the smell of sex tickled his nose. They had done it twice, but it wasn’t enough. He wondered if he would ever get enough of that feeling of sinking into a woman, taking her body, making it his. The look on her face when he had thrust home, feeling the thin barrier yield, and capturing her yelp of pain in his mouth to kiss it away, had changed him. He was a man now.

***

Trish was applying for colleges, and as usual, he accompanied her to the library while she wrote her essays and the like. He snorted derisively when she plunked down a set of applications in front of him.

“Come on, girl. Me? College? It’s not for me, darlin’.”

“Dax, these are for community colleges. You can get financial aid. There’s one in every city, near the colleges my Dad wants me to apply to.”

“Yeah, but what’s the point? I don’t really see myself becoming a fuckin’ stockbroker or whatever.”

“Well, what
are
you going to do? I mean, I’m going to be in school for a really long time, Dax. I’m going to be interning and studying. I think you need a plan, at least.”

He felt his jaw tense. Trish was his light, his sun, his everything, but sometimes she had a tendency to make him feel, well, dumb. He had no plans. In fact, part of him figured that the last year had been nothing more than an amazing dream. He was terrified that he would wake up one day and find out that he had been in a terrible accident or something and that everything that had happened was nothing but an injury-induced fantasy. Dax shrugged, looking away.

“Could you at least just fill one of these out?” She shoved the pile of applications at him.

“Fine.” Dax shoved the pile of paperwork into his backpack and forced a smile. “I gotta go, darlin’. I’ll catch you later.” He spent that afternoon holed up in his attic room, the applications strewn carelessly on his desk, planning their next sexual encounter.

They met every few nights, and one time they even did it at her house when her parents were both at a weekend conference.

***

Man, he was restless. Dax looked in the mirror and wasn’t sure who he was looking at. The same blue eyes, spiky blond hair, and wise-beyond-years demeanor stared back at him, but he didn’t recognize himself. It was as if his relationship with Trisha Wagner was starting to transform him into a completely different person. Who was that person? He had no idea. Apparently, Trish wanted that person to be a college boy with a plan. A prickle of discomfort rippled through his chest. Suddenly, he wanted to punch something.

The trellis that climbed the side of the house made for a nice ladder, as Dax had discovered the very first night in the Bodecker’s place. After lights out, he was on the street, heading for the strip; a small stretch of road downtown that bordered the next town. Dax wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he found a welcome distraction from the inner restlessness and internal disquiet that threatened his fragile sense of security.

***

The row of bikes outside the place drew him immediately, like moth to flame. Dax didn’t remember much about his father, but from the vaguely recalled comments and the few old photos he had seen, the man had obviously been in a motorcycle crew. The door opened and a slew of women spilled out into the dimly lit street. Dax stuck his hands in his pockets and tried to look inconspicuous but he couldn’t help but stare as the little slice of light gleaming from the slowly closing door offered him a glimpse of pool tables and men in black leather vests. Raucous laughter floated out into the night air before the heavy door silenced it.

Dax looked down at his hands and realized that they were shaking. In fact, his whole body was trembling with a strange feeling of familiarity and recognition. He had always struggled with his identity and he had never felt at ease in his own skin. While the image of himself as a college boy remained faded and out of focus, the notion of being a badass biker, an outlaw, seemed to fall over him seamlessly, like a comfortable leather jacket. He could almost smell the exhaust, could practically hear the rumble of an imagined tailpipe as he stood there, frozen in thought outside of a seedy biker bar.

“Hey, cutie! You lost?”

The voice was husky, adult, and female. The sound snapped Dax out of his bizarre reverie. He shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head, ducking his gaze to avoid their attention.

“Come on, honey. I don’t bite…much!”

A peal of tipsy laughter followed her suggestive statement. Stung, Dax pulled himself up to his full height and realized that he towered over the three women who leaned casually against the brick wall taking long pulls of their cigarettes. His eyes widened as his they wandered over the tight shirts, overflowing cleavage, and red lips. The three females who stood there were significantly older than him, but he caught the furtive, appreciative glances they exchanged before turning their collective attention back to him.

“How old are you, baby?” a woman with stark, red hair queried.

“Old enough.”

His response elicited another round of laughs, which irritated the hell out of him.

“For what, baby?” She emphasized the word, “baby,” almost like she was calling him one.

Dax had the distinct impression that these drunk biker broads were making fun of him. And he didn’t like it. Not one bit. He felt a surge of something raw, male, and dominant fill his body as he squared his shoulders. A cocky, lopsided grin came out of nowhere and settled on his face like it had always been there. His eyes narrowed and one eyebrow lifted to form a condescending expression he wasn’t aware he had in him.

“Darlin, a used up whore like you won’t ever find out.”

A screech of outrage followed his swift departure down the dark alley, and a beer bottle whizzed by his ear to shatter against the wall.

“Fuck you!”

Dax smiled to himself, half-expecting the three of them to run after him and pummel him with their heeled leather boots. He supposed if that happened, his best bet was to try to outrun them or take a beating. He wouldn’t hit a chick. No way. Not even if she was a trashy fucking harpy like the ones he had just taken leave of. He made it to his rusty old Schwinn and hightailed it home, but the experience sat heavily in his mind for the next few days. He couldn’t stop thinking about that place, and the people inside it. What kind of lives did they lead? Did they ride from town to town? Did they have a clubhouse? Like an itch inside his brain that he couldn’t seem to scratch away, the pesky thoughts accumulated until he was downright obsessed.