Excerpt From Book Two: Possessive Like Travis

Excerpt From Possessive Like Travis
Danica


This was how it always ended up. I had known Trip my entire life, from the time I was a little baby. Our parents called us 'belly buddies' which was weird since I had been in love with the man since I was twelve years old. Maybe longer.

We were next-door neighbors and our mothers had been pregnant at the same time. He was born three weeks before me, but we spent our entire childhood together, in his living room.

Once we became teenagers, he tried to act like he thought he was a macho older brother that needed to protect me and it annoyed me. I didn't need protection.

Looking back on that now, I understood that I did need protection. I needed to be protected from myself, my own heart. I fell for someone I shouldn't have and it pushed me to bad places, pushed me into being a house mouse. I hated that term. It knawed on my nerves and got under my skin.

I never thought I would be a motorcycle gang's whore. Not until Trip revealed his plans to join up. He wasn't Trip then. His name was Travis. Travis Murphy.

Me? I was Danica Diamond. I was prim, proper, and a virgin. I had barely drank. I had never done drugs and I envisioned giving my virginity to the man I loved, Travis.

Travis and Danica. That was my fantasy and dreams. That was all I wanted.

Which was why I pledged myself to the Black Stallion's as an MC girl. It was for him, my best friend, my love.

Needless to say, my life didn't work out how I planned or I would be a Den Mother, a wife to a patched member, Trip.

In this life, a woman could be so few things. A house mouse, a whore to all members that wanted a piece of her. An Untouchable, property of the high ranking officers. A Den Mother, wife to a patched member. A Bred In, the daughter of a patched member.

My parents weren't a member, I was single, and I had no children, so I was still a bottom feeder after twelve years.

"Are you going to keep being like this, Dee?" Trip snapped and I huffed, facing the window. We had just left Derek's Bar and Grill, the unofficial public clubhouse. We had an official public clubhouse, an unofficial public clubhouse, and a private clubhouse. I lived at the private clubhouse with Carrie, another house mouse, and Crank, the most senior member of the gang. Not because of rank, that was Gunner, but because of his forty-plus years of service.

I was pissed at Trip because he had the gall in his drunken mind to kiss me in front of everyone. I didn't want to cause a scene in front of Jenny, Gunner's new girlfriend. She was an Untouchable and a Bred In all rolled in one. Her dad was the founder of the Black Stallion's and now she was screwing Gunner which made her the most important woman in the chapter. She was a diamond amongst grains of sand. She was sweet, nice, and I could see she wasn't in it for the title. She was in it for Gunner, and I was happy for him. Out of all the members, Gunner had always been nice to me, me and the other girls. His mother had been one of us a long time ago, a house mouse, so he had personal reasons for being respectful.

"You know why I'm like this, Trip." I sneered and pushed my hair out of my face. Out of all the guys who had demanded I Fuck them in the gang, Trip was the one I denied, and he didn't tell anyone or fight me on it. He had his reasons for feeling shame, and he deserved it.

I had never, ever had sex with Travis 'Trip' Murphy. In the twelve years I had been a house mouse or before. Fuck him. He hurt me, and he knew it and I refused to let him reap the benefits I had offered him long ago, benefits which would've ended my torture long ago. All he had to say was I love you and I want to be with you. He never said those words to me, though. When he was drunk or high, he got handsy and I let him. Sometimes.

I would let myself fantasize that he actually wanted me and I would dry hump him, kiss him deep and hard, and whisper all the naughty things I wanted him to do to me. He would groan and beg me to take his dick out. If I was inhibited enough, I would take it out and blow him, but that was all. Nothing more.

I didn't let him go down on me. I had never allowed Trip to stick his dick in my pussy.

He was allowed to kiss me on specific occasions and on the rare occurrence, I would suck his dick and I let myself enjoy it.


All other sexual situations I found myself in, I hated, but not with Trip.

"You haven't had an issue with me kissing you before and, if I remember correctly, you were enjoying it." I wasn't an idiot. I knew he was with Desiree, one of the other house mouses, just last night. That was the thing about us club whores. We talked a lot. We talked about what men visited us, when, and for what reason.

I did enjoy it. Trip was an amazing kisser. He gave those toe-curling, heart-racing kisses that I craved from the lips I craved them from, but I couldn't let myself fantasize that he was only giving them to me.

I knew he wasn't. He had screwed most of the thirty-nine other house mouses. I was the only one he hadn't sunk his dick into and it would stay that way. I would not give myself to Trip, and he wouldn't force me to. Maybe if he did, I could force myself to stop being in love with him. Did I really need him to rape me for me to stop wanting his unconditional love and affection? He clearly didn't feel that way about me. The things he told me before I joined the gang as a house mouse was him trying to let me down easy, listing obstacles with the purpose of pushing me away, not to give me something to fight against. It was simple and I couldn't fault him for trying to be decent. What I could fault him for was pretending he loved me back before he became a prospect for the Black Stallion's.

If he had told me that I was just a friend, that he didn't see me being his girlfriend ever, I wouldn't have pledged myself to the Black Stallion's. Yes, my heart would've been broken, but I would've gotten over it and given my virginity to someone who deserved it, not Alexander 'Gunner' Davenport.

Trip didn't know that little detail. That it was his boss, the president, that had my v-card.
Maybe he would've done a shot with Gunner for owning that? Maybe he would've gotten himself killed by trying to defend my honor? Who knows? All I knew was I didn't want to find out.

All patched members knew that bit and the fact that the president had taken my virginity made me like gold to them. Like maybe my pussy danced or something. I wasn't sure.

All Trip knew about me losing my virginity in the clubhouse was that the biker who took it was gentle which was the truth. It was one of the many reasons I respected Gunner so much. He could've thrown me down and fucked me hard until I bled everywhere, but he didn't. He didn't make me cry. When I said it hurt, he stopped. When I said it was okay to start again, he did.

For added measure, he stayed with me in that room all night so no one would try to take advantage of me while still in pain and sore from losing my virginity.

I felt dirty, but not from anything he had done. It was because he wasn't the man I loved, and he knew it, but luckily, he was understanding.

"Fuck off, Trip." He slowly pulled up to the private clubhouse and all the lights were off. I was about to jump out to escape him when the asshole locked the doors. I threw a dark scowl at him and his expression was unreadable. "What. The. Fuck. Is. Your. Problem." I sounded out each word in case he lost his ability to comprehend the English language in the last five seconds, and he snorted, a chuckle stuck in his chest.

"My problem? You're my problem, Dee." He pulled me to him by my wrist and held my hands close to his dick, but only close enough that my face was an inch from his. His musky, special scent invaded me and almost stole away my self-control.

"No, I'm not. I'm the gang's problem. I'm Crank's problem. I'm the girl's problem. Maybe even Gunner's problem. I am definitely not your problem, Trip." He huffed and I sucked in the breath he let out, needing to taste his scent.

"Yes, you are. You always have been my problem, Danica." I hated how he said my name. Anytime he said it now, all I could remember was that one time he had that accusing look on his face.

What the hell have you done, Danica?!

Yup, and it pissed me off.

"I told you before. Don't call me that. Call me Dee, Dani, bitch, skank, whore, you with the face. Don't call me Danica."

"So, Jenny can call you Danica, but I can't?" He looked offended. Good.

"Yup. She has my respect. You lost it long ago. Therein lies the difference. You don't hear me calling you Travis anymore, do you? I haven't called you Travis in twelve fucking years. Grow up." I tried to yank my hands away, get some space, but he wasn't having it.

"And our history means nothing to you?"

"You've got that right. Our history means nothing when one of us shits on it." His face twisted with pain.

"Danic--"

"No!" I demanded and tears filled my eyes.

Every confrontation with us went the same. Trip trying to beg for forgiveness for what he let happen to me twelve years ago and I wouldn't budge.

"Why do you hate me so much?" He whispered brokenly. His voice was so gentle. It reminded me of before the gang and before being a whore to said gang. It reminded me of when I envisioned myself as his wife with his children.

"I don't hate you," I confessed and his expression showcased his shock then his tender care of me.

"Dani," he whispered softly then his mouth was on mine. Like most times when he kissed me, I gave in. I straddled his waist and let him possess my lips, manipulate them however he chose. He groaned and I let out a cat-like moan as I dug my fingers through his thick hair.

"Trip," I whimpered then his tongue met mine. The battle that ensued was gruesome and dominating. It was hot and dirty, filthy and raunchy kisses. We switched off the upper hand between us as he pushed the skirt of my dress over my ass.

"Fuck," he growled into my mouth and I started grinding against him. His cock was getting thick in his pants. Thick and hard with desire for me. "Are you going to let me in tonight?" I knew exactly what he was asking as he kissed his way down my neck. He was asking to Fuck me. Take his cock inside my pussy and ride him until both of us lost our fucking shit in orgasm.

"No," I whimpered, but Fuck, I wanted to. His was the dick that my pussy had been needing to satisfy its desires.

"God, when are you going to let me make love to you, baby?" Holy. shit. Did he just say make love while talking to me?

"Say that again," I asked as he yanked my dress down to my waist, revealing my tits to the hot air inside the car.

"When are you going to let me make love to you?" He asked it like he wasn't sure if that was what I was asking to hear.

"Oh, my god," I cried as I kept pressing myself against his full cock and kissed him again. The rough pads of his thumbs teased my sensitive nipples as I scratched my nails down his chest. "You want my pussy, babe?" I teased him and he groaned.

"Fuck, yes. More than anything."

"You want to Fuck it?" I whispered to him, and he tore my panties off, gripping onto my bare ass.

"Uh, yeah." He groaned.

"How would you Fuck it? Would you Fuck me hard and fast? Or would you make slow love to me, savoring it?" I was egging him on and both of us knew it.

"I want to make love to you, Dee, but with how fucking horny you've made me, I might only be able to give you a hard, quick Fuck." Dee. That was what he started calling me once I became gang property. That was all it took to snap me out of it.

Holy Fuck. I almost broke my promise to myself. Do not Fuck Trip. Ever. It was my personal way of torturing him for putting me through all of these years of pain, for never loving me. I would be the only pussy he couldn't have, the one he could've had every day if he only said he loved me.

That was all I needed. Three little words. Well, four.

I love you, Danica.

If he said that, I would Fuck him in a heartbeat.

Hell, I'd Fuck him in Gunner's bed if he said that to me.

"Too bad. I might've fucked you if it had been the other way." Then, I opened the door and climbed out. I probably shocked the crap out of him.

That was the last time I would ever get a ride home from Trip. I'd walk home before putting myself in that position again.

"Dee, come on. How long are you going to keep this up?" I fixed my dress as I walked into the house, locking Trip out.

As long as I can....As long as it takes....Until you get your head on straight. Any of those answers would do, but I gave him none. I wasn't going to give him a clue. Travis 'Trip' Murphy needed to find the clue on his own.