Money Shot (23 page)

Zaira pulled him into her by the forearms and they kissed. He tasted better than last night. His kisses were certainly softer than they were last night, but then again, they had both been out of control. She pressed her breasts to his chest, not giving a damn about getting her clothes messy. She’d known better than to get fancy to come to a repair shop, so she’d settled for a short top and a pair of jeans.

They rolled her motorcycle inside and he closed the garage door.

“We’re closed on Sundays, so we shouldn’t get any regular customers,” Trent said.

“Regular?” She followed him back to the corner of the shop where he’d emerged from earlier.

“The shop is owned by Rugged Riders members. It’s opened for regular operations Monday through Saturday. We have about five employees on the payroll, but I’m sure I’m not the only one that stops by on the regular to maintain my ride.”

“Sounds convenient.” Zaira leaned against a worktable. “Isn’t this where you worked part time when you first moved here?”

“You actually remember all that?” He smiled and came over to the table and shuffled through some tools. “Between my side gig and looking for legitimate work, yes, this is where I spent most of my days and nights.”

“By side gig…do you mean gambling?”

Zaira observed as the Adam’s apple on his throat bobbed. “Yeah. Kind of like what you saw on Friday night. Gambling, sports and race betting…you name it. After my dad got locked up, I practically lived in Las Vegas when I was serious about it.”

“Well I can see that you were and still are successful at it.”

“Making money that way was the only thing I knew,” he said. “Growing up with my dad and no mother, we had to hustle day in and day out for a meal, sometimes two if we were lucky. We lied, we cheated, and stole to stay alive.”

“I can’t really talk for someone else, but when you told me your mom ran out on you and your dad when you were eight, I kept thinking there was some legitimate reason for it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “My parents divorced when I was young, mutually. It took me a while but I had to understand that they weren’t happy together. In the end, not having to hear them fighting every night over this and that was relieving.”

“Well, that’s pretty typical.” He exhaled. “But if you’re trying to get me believe that my mom being addicted to cocaine and running off with a pothead was a legitimate enough reason to leave me and my dad alone, it’s not going to work.”

That revelation hit Zaira like an arrow to her heart. She’d known his mother had left; he’d told her, but he hadn’t told her why—just that he didn’t really know. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” He took a tool, moved over to the motorcycle, and knelt down to work.

“Does she…do you still talk to her?”

“She’s been committed to a board and care facility out west,” Trent said, bluntly. “I check up on her periodically, make sure she has what she needs, but she doesn’t remember me. She seems to think I’m some secret federal agent trying to bust her and her boyfriend for dealing. She’s called me a whole bunch of other names too. She’s schizophrenic. My dad told me once that there were signs of it when they were dating. She told him the drugs helped her cope, hence her addiction.”

“Gosh,” Zaira said.

“And you wonder why I never talk about my past freely. It’s usually too much for anyone to take in.”

Zaira knelt down near him and caught his gaze. “It’s complicated, yes, but you have to give yourself credit. I’ve never met a man as successful and ambitious as you are. I had no idea…”

“Despite what people think of my dad, I give him all the credit because I would not be where I am today if he gave up when we didn’t even have a bucket to piss in.”

“Trent, I didn’t know everything.”

“Listen,” he said. They rose together until they were face to face. “I’m not trying to manifest some pity party. That’s not what I want from you. If I open up completely, maybe you will understand me more…and maybe you won’t.”

“I was too quick to judge…”

“No, you were smart like any good woman would be.”

His face was only inches away from hers and she closed the gap to kiss him. They kissed each other with urgency. She just couldn’t get enough of him. He trailed kisses along her face, down her neck and across her shoulders, and pulled her tightly against his rock hard chest.

“I want you,” he rasped against her throat.

“Then take me,” she urged.

Her top and bra came off in a haste and before she knew it, Trent had switched his center of attention to her breasts. He tugged on her sensitive nipples with his lips, kneading both breasts with his palms and licking them. She managed to slide her hands down into his basketball shorts.

She gasped when she found him erect and ready. He moaned as she stroked him from base to tip, luring him out of his shorts.

Trent lifted her onto the metal table and she kicked off her shoes. With one tug, he rid her of her jeans and panties. He extracted a foil package from his wallet before kicking his shorts aside.

He was big and erect, ready to fuck her.

“Oh, God.” She swooned as intense heat rushed down to her sex.

He tore the wrapper open with his teeth and sheathed his straining erection with a condom.

Zaira spread her legs on the table, showing off her pussy. Why pretend that she didn’t want something that brought her so much satisfaction?

Trent hooked his arms under her knees and pulled her closer to the edge of the table. He took her, slowly and deeply. Moving all the way out and then back in again until she was clutching at the table crying out for more.

“I don’t think I could ever stop after this, Zaira,” he declared.

“Keep going. Don’t ever stop,” she replied.

After those words, he became relentless, pushing her limits. As she sat on the table with her legs spread wide, back arched, and breast to the ceiling, he entered her pussy over and over again.

The little repair shop was filled with nothing but the table hitting the wall behind them, his hoarse declarations, and her cries of pleasure.

She lost herself that day, and for once she didn’t worry about the consequences. Not one bit.

Chapter Ten

No matter how hard Trent tried on Monday morning, he couldn’t keep his mind off of Zaira. It wasn’t that he wanted to anyway. The issue was that he had about twenty-four hours of work to do in what was usually a nine hour day for him.

Someone knocked at the door. Trent looked up, startled. It was Marcus.

“Hey Stone.”

Trent nodded. “Brooks.”

“So…I heard about Saturday night.” Marcus was grinning from ear to ear as he walked into Trent’s office.

“Word gets around really fast here,” Trent replied, giving his closest RR brother and best friend a fist pound.

Marcus sat down and leaned back in the chair. “What are you going to buy with your winnings?”

Trent shrugged. “Haven’t decided yet. Something to remember the night, I suppose.”

“Man…” Marcus leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You could be making a killing. You
were
making a killing as a gambler. Then one day you just quit.”

“I retired. I don’t quit,” Trent said. “You’re my best friend, dude. You know me better than that.”

“When most people retire, they cease working the normal nine to five,” Marcus replied.

“I work to keep my brain functional. After all, it is a muscle.”

“Then why retire from something that makes you more money than all of your other jobs combined?” Marcus asked. “And even if you have retired, I know you’re sitting on major bank roll. You told me this.”

“I told you because you’re the only one I trust with that information.” Trent sighed. “Marcus, I’ve been homeless and I’ve had the privilege of sleeping in billion dollar mansions. One thing holds true, money does not bring happiness.”

“Very true.” Marcus stood. “Well, we’ll talk later. Gotta get back to work.”

“See ya around.”

Marcus stopped at the door. “Someone said they saw you there with Zaira.”

Trent nodded. “We went together, like old times.”

Marcus chuckled. “You are something else. Are you two…um…having sex?”

Zaira appeared in the office entryway, in full business dress with briefcase in tow. “What business is that of yours?
Marcus?
”

“Uh…” Marcus scratched the back of his head. “I was just…yeah…good morning.” He exited the office leaving a glaring Zaira standing there.

“Really?” Zaira protested.

The first thing Trent noticed about her was her hair. It was pulled back and every strand except for some tendrils along her face was hidden. The hairstyle on her was exquisite. Her face was made up lightly and the rose coloring on her lips made them look extra kissable. Her black dress was tight, hugged her hips, and pushed up her breasts. As soon as his gaze dropped to her legs, he got a vivid vision of them wrapped around his waist.

By the time he was done assessing her from head to toe, his dick was rock hard and he couldn’t do anything about it.

Trent rose from his chair and greeted her at the door. “Good morning, Zaira. You look gorgeous today.”

It looked as though Zaira was trying to hide a smile, but her face brightened. “Morning. I had a meeting with a client earlier.”

He took her suitcase, her hand, and brought her toward the desk. “I’m not sure how much you heard, but I don’t want you to think that I was talking about what we did last night.”

She settled down in the second chair behind his desk. “I wasn’t eavesdropping either. I just happened to hear Marcus asking you if we had sex.”

“Marcus is my most trusted RR brother and my best friend. Are you okay with me telling him how I feel about you?”

Zaira leaned back in the chair and the sparkle in her eyes dimmed a bit and her forehead creased. He couldn’t tell if it was from indifference, worry, sadness, or something else entirely. Something akin to sympathy tugged at his heart, gripping it like a vice. He wanted to make Zaira’s doubt disappear; he’d do anything to make that happen.

He took her hand. “Zaira—”

“Trent…don’t. Not right now.”

“Then when?” he asked.

This was the part where he was supposed to tell her that he really, really liked her, had been infatuated with her since she almost ran over him with her motorcycle, and would do anything in his power to prove himself worthy of her trust. But he didn’t know how to say the words, they didn’t come easily. And he somehow knew that by opening up his heart again, he’d be vulnerable. But Zaira was different. He had to believe that, first and foremost.