Train's Clash (The Last Riders Book 9)

  “Deal.” Killyama shut the car door.

  Train led the way to his bike, where she swung one leg over the seat after he did the same, snuggling close him. He shot her a look over his shoulder before turning on the motor, and then she hung on as he shot out onto the road.

  Killyama was willing to admit she might have bitten off more than she could chew. When he had offered the ride, he hadn’t appeared mad. However, the look he had given her from over his shoulder showed how angry he was about the insult she had thrown down. Her mama hadn’t raised an idiot, but her pride wouldn’t let her back down. Instead, she held him tighter.

  The trepidation vanished within half a mile. She loved riding on a motorcycle. She had her own, but when she rode by herself, she had to be careful, watching the road and the assholes who didn’t want to share it. With Train driving, all she had to do was enjoy.

  Loosening her hold when everyone was out of sight, she held him by his belt. Killyama had ridden motorcycles long enough to know that he was good. Better than good. He handled the curvy roads like a pro, slowing down for the curves then accelerating as they turned a corner. The bike glided over the pavement smoothly.

  His motorcycle was sick. It made hers feel like a bicycle.

  Her adrenaline pumping, she tightened her thighs around Train’s waist before lowering her mouth to his ear so he could hear her over the sound of the motor. “Let me drive!”

  She couldn’t hear his answer, but the shaking of his head wasn’t hard to understand.

  Seeing a straight stretch of road, she loosened her thighs to raise herself off the seat. Using her long legs, she tried to slide around to the front of him.

  “Are you trying to get us killed!”

  Train’s shout didn’t stop her. She found herself sitting in front of him, but it wasn’t in the position she had wanted. He had taken one of his hands off the handlebars, jerking her so she straddled him, her breasts pressing against his chest.

  Unable to prevent his gaze from catching hers, she looked down at his tanned throat. His neck muscles were clenched in anger as he slowed the bike down, pulling the motorcycle to a stop on the side of the road.

  “Are you fucking crazy?” His eyes burned with fury, his voice deadly low.

  She obstinately shouted at him, “You could have let me drive!”

  “No one drives my bike but me. Get off. Now.”

  She got off the bike. Then, instead of giving her time to get behind him again, he began pushing his motorcycle backward so he could make a U-turn.

  “You’re going to leave me here?”

  Train didn’t reply. He simply pulled back onto the road to leave her choking on his dust.

  Gaping after him, she couldn’t believe he had left her. Even as she started walking, she kept thinking he would be waiting around the corner. When he wasn’t there, she then thought he would be around the next one. When her high-heeled boots were beginning to rub her heels raw, she was forced to admit the son of a bitch was forcing her to walk back to The Last Riders’ clubhouse.

  “You son of a bitch! I’m going to kick your ass when I get there!” She began screaming every profanity she could think of to take her mind off the pain in her feet. “Your fucking bike better not be where can I get my hands on it!” she threatened in the silence of the empty mountainside.

  She had no idea how far she had walked before she saw him on the side of the road, waiting.

  “You fucking bastard!” Killyama yelled as she drew closer.

  With that comment, she was left eating his dust again.

  She tried to run after him but was forced to stop when she fell on the roadside gravel, where it took several minutes to choke back the fury and tears clogging her throat. Then, firming her lips, she shakily got to her feet. There wasn’t a man alive who could make her cry.

  It took five minutes of agony before she saw him again. She wanted to stubbornly walk past him, yet her pride had taken enough of a beating. Therefore, she gingerly climbed on behind him, not trusting him not to leave her sitting in the dirt again. She promised herself she would kill him when he dropped her off at her car.

  As soon as her ass was on the motorcycle seat, he took off. Angry, she wanted to rip his head off. The carefree abandonment that she had begun the ride with was gone. Now she had no problem keeping her hands to herself until he brought them to a stop in the parking lot where her nightmare ride had begun.

  Fuming, she didn’t spare him a glance as she got of his bike before limping toward her car. Instead of opening the driver’s side door, she opened the back one, reaching inside for the bat she always kept there.

  Her hand was around the handle when she was pushed from behind, falling forward, her face planted into the backseat. She turned her head to see Train standing over her in the door, one arm braced on the car door, the other one on the roof, blocking her exit.

  “Settle down before you hurt yourself.”

  His calm voice had the opposite effect he had intended, fueling her temper higher.

  “The only one who is going to get hurt is you! You left me with a sprained ankle in the fucking mountains!” She flipped onto her back, lifting her foot to wave it in his face.

  “Let me see.” Train’s frown of concern was too little, too late.

  When he leaned down to see her ankle, she used her good foot to kick out at him, nailing him in the balls. With a hiss, he fell forward, pinning her underneath him.

  Killyama took advantage, slamming her hands into his back and using her teeth to bite his shoulder.

  “Bitch, let go.”

  When she didn’t, she felt his teeth sink into her own shoulder.

  Releasing his flesh, she stopped struggling so he would stop biting her.

  Train looked up at her. “You’ve got a hell of a temper.”

  “Get off me!”

  “You going to hit me again?”

  “I’m going to wrap that bat around your fucking head!”

  “Why are you so mad at me? I’m the one you practically made roadkill. Besides, you could have called Beth or one of your friends to come and pick you up.”

  “Beth was having dinner, and so were my friends when I called.”

  “You told them you were stranded and none of them wanted to leave to pick you up?”

  Surprised, she lifted her brows in confusion. His voice had never risen when she had almost made him crash, or when she had cussed him out. He hadn’t even lost his cool when she had nailed him in the balls. Yet, it had taken him to think her friends had ignored a plea for help to get a rise out of him?

  “I didn’t tell them I was stranded. When they told me what they were doing, I told them I would call them later.”

  “That was a dumbass move.”

  “Why? Because I didn’t want to disturb their dinner? I can take care of myself.”

  The fight had left her. Exhausted from the long walk and the fight with Train, she sank into the seat. That was when she noticed he had been stroking the pounding pulse at the base of her throat.

  The sensuous touch of his fingers against her flesh had her sucking in a deep breath. His eyes grew even darker, and the shadow of his beard on his chiseled jaw gave the appearance of an outlaw who took what he wanted.

  She reached out to twine her arms around his shoulders, her lips twisting up into a sardonic smile when he flinched.

  “Scared?” she taunted.

  “Of you? I don’t get scared.”

  Killyama raised her lips to press them against his. Train remained still, not stopping her, but not participating, either.

  She pulled back a fraction of an inch to whisper, “Prove it.”

  Slowly, he opened his mouth. It was a kiss she wouldn’t ever forget. It was like being reborn in a burst of desire that was almost painful because it wasn’t enough. She needed more from him. She needed him to kiss her harder, to taste her the way she was tasting him.

  Her control withered when he took the reins, tilting his face to t
he side so he could widen her mouth, turning the tables on her as she found herself being kissed by a man who could kiss as expertly as he could ride a motorcycle.

  Train’s weight settled more intimately against her. She could feel the bulge of his dick through his denim jeans. The slick leather leggings she wore allowed him to notch himself in a way that made her wonder if he had pulled them down. She surreptitiously slid her hand down to make sure her pants were still on.

  “What are you doing?”

  There were a few things a woman hated to admit. The fact that she couldn’t tell him just when she had lost control of the situation was one of them.

  Killyama moved her hand from the slick material of her pants to his T-shirt, showing no rhyme or reason, other than she wanted to make a lame excuse to herself for more breathing room.

  When she tugged his T-shirt up, Train lifted himself, making it easier for her. Then his shirt slipped from her fingers, falling to the floorboard.

  “Damn.” She stared up at the magnificent chest she could see when the parking lot lights came on.

  Train stared down at her, his face a mask of seriousness. The two were frozen, neither one making a move, time standing still.

  Her thoughts were a jumble of emotions. She wanted to push him out of her car and hightail it out of there as if the demons of hell were after her. The parts of her below the waist, though, wanted to jerk him down and fuck his brains out. From his expression, Train was just as undecided as she was.

  When he started backing out of the car, she pulled him back down.

  “Fuck me.”

  Bracing his hands on the seat, he resisted her efforts. “You sure?”

  “Dude, you want to fuck or not?”

  Train started backing out of the car again. “I’ll pass.”

  Perversely, his hesitation had her wanting him more. She wasn’t a slut, but when she usually asked men to have sex, they couldn’t get it out of their jeans fast enough.

  Raising herself up, she pulled up her shirt, showing him the black lace bra that cupped her tits. “You sure?” she mocked, softening her voice into a seductive murmur as she trailed her fingertips down the tattoo on his bicep, losing the bitchy expression she usually wore.

  Her body wanted him.

  Train moved back inside the car, and Killyama gasped at his expression as he sensuously slid between her thighs, catching her mouth with his.

  She combed her fingers into his long hair. She usually hated dudes with long hair, but on Train, the clean, masculine scent of it put her pussy in overdrive.

  Train reached behind her to unfasten her bra, leaving her breasts free to brush his chest. She could feel the pounding of his heart against hers as their mouths dueled passionately.

  Killyama scooted down so she could lay under him full-length. The old car had a big seat, and they took every spare inch of it, both of their feet hanging out of the open car door.

  The close confines made it hard to struggle out of her tight pants, yet she managed while Train raised himself enough to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans to slide on a condom. Then, using his hips, he brushed the tip of his cock across the lips of her pussy.

  Having sex with him was like riding a motorcycle at high speeds—you didn’t know if you were going to reach the end or crash and burn. The searing heat of his entry scored her to her soul. She had expected him to fuck her in a heated rush. Instead, he started pinching and kneading her breasts. The pleasure had her squirming as he continued to thrust into her.

  Killyama wasn’t a small woman, but he made her feel petite as she was overwhelmed by the strength of the muscular body surrounding her. She was torn between fear and excitement. The sex she had initiated wasn’t supposed to feel this good. It hadn’t ever before. Then she realized that it was Train who was making the difference.

  He wasn’t only taking; he was giving her the pleasure that many were incapable of. He wanted her to enjoy it as much him. He was taking her on a ride that she never wanted to end.

  Dropping the last of her guards, she rocked her hips back and forth, fucking him back as she sucked in a deep breath to inhale the musky scent they had created in the confines of the car.

  When Train lifted her hips up to drive higher, her slick pussy gripped his cock, trying to keep up the furious pace he had set. Then, when he stroked his tongue on the tip of her nipple, she dug her fingernails into his back, unconsciously raking deep scratches into his flesh.

  “Easy, firecracker.”

  Killyama pushed his mouth away from her nipple. “Don’t call me no fucking nickname you’ve called another woman.”

  Train stopped moving. “I’ve never called anyone that before. If you want me to call you something else, then tell me your real name. I’m not calling you Killyama when I fuck you.”

  She almost told him to get off her right then, but the snug fit of his cock inside of her stopped her. Her mama hadn’t raised no idiot. The second lesson every woman needed to learn was when to give in.

  “You can call me Killy.”

  “I can deal with that.” Train started moving again.

  Her pussy gripped his cock tighter, trying to prolong the ecstasy that was rapidly building into the orgasm that he was so damn determined to give her.

  Killyama shuddered as she came, and Train grimaced as she felt him throbbing inside of her. The shared orgasm made her self-conscious, especially when he moved to the side and hooked an arm under her neck.

  “We’re supposed to be all cozy now?” Her usual sting was missing from her words.

  Train’s lips twitched. “I take it you’re not feeling a post-orgasmic glow?”

  She laughed. “I need a cigarette for that.”

  “Sorry, but I don’t have one handy.”

  “Damn, I need it. I haven’t had sex since I stopped smoking.”

  “How long since you stopped?”

  “A year ago.”

  Train sat up, folding her legs over his lap. Then he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a joint. “Will this do?”

  “You have a lighter?”

  He handed it to her.

  “How did you join The Last Riders?” Killyama asked as they sat, smoking the joint.

  “I was friends with Viper’s brother Gavin in the Navy. We trained as pilots together. It was his dream to form an MC when we got out.”

  “I’m sorry. Beth told me about Gavin when her and Razer broke up. She told us that another club member killed him.”

  “Memphis.”

  “I’d kill someone who betrayed a friend of mine like that.” She stared at his cold expression through the smoky haze.

  Train took the joint away from her, taking a hit. “How’d you meet Sex Piston and your other friends?”

  “Middle school. We’ve been friends ever since.”

  “They the ones who came up with Killyama?”

  “What? You don’t like it?”

  He shrugged. “It’s different.”

  She laughed, shaking her head. “My mother did.”

  “Your mother?” Train laughed.

  “Yep. Every time I got in trouble, she always said I was killing her.”

  “Jesus, you’re killing me.”

  “See? It’s contagious.”

  “I can imagine you driving her crazy. I bet you turned her grey trying to keep up with you and your friends.”

  “Nope. She had me when she was seventeen. My mama doesn’t have a grey hair yet. If she does, Sex Piston would have told me.”

  “Your mother is living?”

  “Yes. Yours?”

  “No, both of my parents are dead.” Train licked his fingertips before putting out the joint. “I better get going before Rider comes out looking for me.”

  She didn’t want to see him go. Hoping to convince him to stay a little longer, she trailed a finger down his chest to the V of his jeans, which he had zipped up but hadn’t buttoned. “You sure you don’t want another round? I’m better the second time arou
nd.”

  Train placed his hand over her teasing finger. “No, I don’t want to fuck you …”

  His blunt reply had her jerking her legs down. She picked up his T-shirt and tossed it at him as she maneuvered herself out of the car.

  “Get out.”

  “Wait. Listen to me—”

  “There’s nothing to explain.”

  As soon as Train stepped out of the car, Killyama slammed the door closed then opened the front door to slide in front of the steering wheel.

  He tried to hold the door open to keep her from driving away, but she reached inside the glove box and took out the gun she kept there.

  “Dude, either step back, or I’m going to shoot the first target I see.” She aimed her gun at his dick.

  He hastily stepped back, dropping his hand from the door. “Just wait a minute. I wanted to—”

  “Looks like neither one of us are going to get what we want.” She shut the door then started the motor, making sure to keeping the gun trained on him.

  Her car jerked as she backed out then turned the wheel, making him leap out of the way.

  “You fall asleep back there?” Hammer asked.

  “No, I was remembering the other reason I like Jonas better. He doesn’t talk as much as you on the way back to Jamestown.”

  “I don’t think you should go to the party tomorrow night. I’d feel better if you put some distance between you and The Last Riders.” Hammer sped up to pass a car that was going too slow to suit him.

  “Why?” she asked cautiously. Had he found out what she had done with Train?

  “For years, you told us to keep our mouths shut about our connection. Me and Jonas are going to hear shit from The Last Riders that we know you. Ever since they became buddies with the Destructors, they’ve been meeting Stud at the clubhouse in Jamestown. Jonas nearly pissed himself when he saw Rider and Train riding through town, and they almost saw him. Hell, how are we supposed to explain why we were in Kentucky?”

  “Tell them it’s none of their damn business. Besides, you don’t have anything to worry about. Those two shitheads couldn’t find their ass with their own two hands.”

  “Are you listening to this?” Hammer asked Jonas. “I just spent three weeks with Train in a shithole. I may have even made a few jokes about him calling Treepoint a hellhole, and he would have done better picking Ohio to live in.”