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Jessi
I woke up the next morning from a night of restless sleep. I couldn't seem to stop thinking about Rip, not since we had fucked outside the Hounds of Hades clubhouse. God, I didn't know what had come over me. It wasn't just the drinks. I knew that much. I hadn't had that much to drink, and besides, that wouldn't explain why I was so ready to throw out all of my inhibitions.
I let him fuck me. I was under no illusions about it. We weren't making love or anything like that. We were just fucking. Getting out our carnal desire for one another. No matter what I might want, I was under no illusions that Rip wouldn't want me like that. He had a different girl every night—all these beautiful, bombshell babes like the blonde that I'd seen with him at the start of the night at the clubhouse. Probably by the next night or the night after that, he'd have someone new that he was sleeping with.
What alarmed me the most was that I didn't really mind. It wasn't that I wasn't jealous. I kind of was, in some weird, irrational way. Rip wasn't my boyfriend or anything even remotely similarto that, and I didn't want him to be. But at the same time, I didn't really want to hear that he was sleeping with anyone else, and I was sure I'd overhear something about that if I hung around the shop long enough.
But beyond the jealousy, I didn't really want him to be my boyfriend. It was just nice to have someone to take care of my needs like he had.
And it was good sex. It was a bit rougher than I'd ever had before—okay, a lot rougher than I'd ever had before, but I kind of appreciated that. There was something carnal and animalistic about it, and it was nice just to give up all my cares and bend to Rip's will. Plus, it had helped me get out all my angst against Gary and all my frustration over my father and the shop and the curfew.
I felt relaxed that morning, in a way that I hadn't felt in a while.
We could never do that again, though. And facing Rip at work that morning was awkward, to say the least. I only wished that it were Monday and that I had the whole week to process what we'd done before I really had to see him again, except in passing. Instead, we were stuck working side by side for hours, beginning to hunt down the pieces for J.T.'s bike and put together at least some of the more crucial elements of the engine.
It was torture being so close to him and not being able to talk about what had happened. I wondered if Dad was picking up on the tension between the two of us, and if he knew that something had happened. But if he had known that something had happened, he would have said something, I was sure. He wouldn't have just allowed me to sneak out of the house and get away with it.
I blushed, remembering hotly the things that Rip had done to me the previous night. I wondered if things were always like that with him—if he was always so domineering and demanding. I kind of hoped that he was. I mean, I imagined that sweet sex with him might be just as fulfilling, but there was just a little extra something, seeing Rip the way that he must be, deep down, underneath it all.
I had to stop thinking about it, I realized, as I very nearly fumbled the same piece for the third time.
“Where the hell is your head today, Jessi?” Rip asked peevishly, and I couldn't keep from blinking back tears at the sharp tone of his rebuke. For a fleeting moment, I imagined that there was something soft and speculative in his gaze, as though he might feel bad about upsetting me, but it was gone before I could determine if maybe I'd only imagined it.
It was all so confusing.
Later that afternoon, as I was trying to track down the last of the parts that we would need for J.T.'s bike—at least for now—Rip let out a frustrated growl from the other side of the shop. “Mick, this-” He broke off, tossing a wrench across half the shop, letting it fall with a clatter against the concrete floor.
“Hey, now,” Dad said, frowning at the man.
“Look, why don't you let Jessi do this?” Rip snapped. “Her fingers are far nimbler than mine, and she'd be a great asset if you didn't have her doing the most menial tasks ever at all times.” He looked over at me. “What are you even doing right now?” he asked.
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Trying to buy the last of the parts that we're going to need,” I told him. “We still need-”
“Half of those parts we aren't going to need until weeks from now,” Rip interrupted. “There are far more important things that you could be working on right now. Like helping me out with-”
“I don't want Jessi working on this bike,” Dad interrupted, barely glancing over at me. I was sure he knew just how angry those words would make me.
I scowled. “Dad,” I snapped. “This is my design, and it's my bike. I have every right to-”
“No, Jessi,” he said, his eyes blazing with an anger that I had never seen there before. “You went behind my back to make sure that your design was the one that J.T. chose—no doubt only because Rip vouched for it. You're lucky that I've agreed to build from your design, rather than kicking you out of the shop as I ought to do. If you were working for a big automotive company and you pulled a stunt like that-”
“I didn't do anything, Dad,” I protested. “Rip is the one who submitted my design to J.T. I didn't even know that he had done that until the same time that you did. And-”
Dad scowled even more darkly. “Hush, Jessi,” he said, and I quelled immediately, giving Rip a helpless look.
Rip looked as though he wanted to say something but didn't quite dare, and I wondered if his sudden silence had anything to do with what we'd gotten up to the previous night. If it hadn't been for that, I was sure that he would have stood up to my Dad and made sure that I could work on the bike.
I wondered if maybe in fucking Rip, I had lost a very powerful potential ally around the shop. But it was too late to go back now.