Talkin' Trash (Bear Bottom Guardians MC 2)

Without warning, he filled me.

I cried out, a riot of emotions running through my brain.

It hurt. But it also was a good hurt, despite the sting at first, which eventually turned into such pure pleasure, the likes of which I’d never felt before.

He pulled out and growled when he saw the stain of my virginity on his cock, hissing between breaths into my ear. “You’re mine. So. Fucking. Mine.”

I came so hard that I saw stars.

Hell, I came so hard that I might have even gotten his sheets wet.

I collapsed, panting, and tried to recover from the most intense orgasm of my life.

Faintly I heard a floorboard creak, but when another wasn’t forthcoming, I chalked it up to my imagination.

Finally, after a few long minutes of recovery, and inhaling big gulps of air that smelled exactly like Linc, I got out of bed and checked for any wet spots.

There weren’t any, thank God.

It’d look quite weird if I’d had to wash his sheets.

After doing my business, washing my hands, and brushing my teeth with my finger since there didn’t seem to be any spare toothbrushes—thank God!—I went in search for clothes.

There weren’t any.

Five minutes later, I walked out of the bathroom and his bedroom after a search through his drawers and finally decided to stay in the shirt and shorts he’d handed me the night before.

I stepped out of his bedroom, the door to which had been just barely cracked open, and I made my way to the kitchen where I could hear coffee percolating.

Following my nose, I came to a sudden halt when I rounded the corner of the hallway.

My eyes took in Linc as he stood there with sweat dripping down his chest, leaning his elbows on the counter with his head bowed.

He was breathing hard, and I couldn’t stop the images from my fantasy about him from flashing in my mind all over again.

“Hey,” I breathed. “I thought you had an interview.”

I saw the muscles in Linc’s back tense as well as all the muscles in the backs of his legs.

God, he was wearing those goddamn shorts again.

The ones that let you see every single freakin’ muscle, vein and appendage that likely shouldn’t be seen.

The damn man wore them all. The. Time.

Did he have any idea what those shorts did to me? Did to other women?

Every single straight female would be panting after catching a glimpse of him in those shorts.

Jesus, he probably ran in those shorts this morning. Didn’t he know that having his dick on display like that could cause traffic accidents?

Linc came up from his hunched over height slowly and turned to find me standing there. “It was a phone interview.”

His shoulders were stiff, and I tilted my head to stare at him.

But then something he was holding in front of his pelvis caught my eye, momentarily distracting me.

“What’s that?” I asked, all thoughts of Linc and his penis-baring shorts momentarily forgotten.

Linc tossed the paper onto the counter and turned swiftly back the other way.

“Have a look.”

I did, scooting up close to the counter, approaching it as if it was the snake in the saddlebag reincarnated and ready to strike.

Out of the corner of my eye, something momentarily caught my attention, and I was torn between looking at it—damn those shorts—or the train wreck on the counter.

For once, probably in Linc’s entire life, his dick didn’t win out.

The paper did.

What could possibly be more important than an up-close glimpse of Linc’s dick?

A front-page picture in the largest newspaper in the state featuring the two of us and what appeared to be a poop stain on my scrub pants.

“Oh my God,” I moaned as I stared at the picture. “I look like I shit up my vagina. Seriously, could they not have gotten a better picture?”

Linc looked over from where he was standing in front of the coffee pot.

He’d been up for hours.

Not only had he already worked out, but he’d also had an interview with Sports Ruckus, a magazine that showcased the top athletes in all sports. They were known for not only talking to the player about his sport but also for giving their readers an inside look into that athlete’s day-to-day life.

“Do you want some coffee?” he asked, sounding bored.

I narrowed my eyes and saw that he wasn’t unaffected by this, either. He was pissed. His jaw was tight, his eyes were hard, and he was so stiff that…

I frowned. “What kind of question is that?”

Linc’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile.

“So, was that a yes or a no?” he teased.

God, I loved his smile.

I sighed. “It’s a goddamn yes, duh.”

He did smile that time. “At least they gave a recap of what happened.”

That was true.

There was, at least, an explanation underneath the awful picture that said there’d been a wreck, I’d been the first person to arrive on the scene, and I helped save a man’s life.