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Train's Clash(2)

By´╝ÜJamie Begley

“You’re going to miss your flight.”

Train ignored Rider’s reminder for the third time, but he did glance down at his watch, seeing Rider was right; whether she showed up or not, he was going to have to leave.

Just then, an ugly green car pulled into the parking lot, coming to a stop. His dick went hard before she even stepped out of the car.

“Sex Piston’s clients don’t have dicks,” she smarted off at his door before he could even step out.

Train kept his mouth shut, determined not to get into an argument with her this time. He had already anticipated her friends tipping her off that he had been hanging out.

He put up his guard before telling her, “I’m not here for Sex Piston. I wanted to see you.”

“Fucker, we don’t have a word to say to one another.” Placing her hands on her hips, she cocked a hip out.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He took a step toward her. “I’m going out of town, and I plan to settle this between us before I leave.”

Killyama shot him a killing glance. “Spit it out, then.”

Train was surprised she had given in so easily until he realized Sex Piston and her crew were watching from inside the shop.

“The day we went for a ride and ended up fucking each other—”

“Asshole, I don’t need you to remind me.”

“Hear me just one damn time, Killyama!” he yelled.

Her mouth snapped closed.

Taking a deep breath, he continued, “When I told you I wouldn’t fuck you again, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“So, you’re saying what?” She slid her hands into the back pockets of her leather pants, rocking her feet back and forth. “You would have done me again?”

“Maybe. What I was trying to tell you was that I don’t fuck women more than once who don’t belong to The Last Riders.”

“So, the only way you would do me again is if I became a Last Rider?”


Killyama stared at him in silence, something Train didn’t take as a good sign, thinking she would rather chop her left tit off than become a Last Rider. Then she broke eye contact as Rider rolled down the window.

“Train, we’ve gotta go.”

She angrily jerked the truck door open. “Yeah, you don’t want to miss your flight. We don’t have a damn thing to talk about, anyway.”


“Don’t call me that! We’re done talking.”

Train felt his hands clench into fists. Just like every other time he tried to talk to her, it had ended up in an argument. Just once, he wished the funny, sexy woman who had gone for a ride with him would show again. He wanted to see the woman who had brazenly tried to ride his bike, who didn’t have a shy bone in her body, and who was the one who had made the first move between them, igniting a fire that hadn’t been put out since that day.

“Yes, we are,” he growled.

Before he could change his mind, Train pinned her to the hood, thinking, Damn! It couldn’t feel as good as the last time I kissed her. However, when his tongue entered her mouth, he had to admit he had been mistaken. It was even better.

“You have exactly two seconds to get your hands off my bitch,” Sex Piston snarled at the exact moment he felt cold steel pressed against the back of his head.

Lingering, he released her lips, yet whispered against them, “We’re not done.” He then held a soft kiss against her lips for an infinite second.

She pushed him away. “Yes, we are.”

In another second, he was surrounded by women who could make any dick shrivel. That’s when Train noticed Rider, who was a scared little bitch, hadn’t volunteered to have his back.

Train stepped up to the truck. “I’ll see you in three months. Don’t forget me.”

“Dude, you’re already a memory,” Killyama said as she turned away.

After shutting the door, Train rolled down the window. “Don’t worry; I’ll remind you when I see you again.”

Before she or any one of the other bitches could say anything else, he hit the door as Rider drove away, the wind blowing strands of hair into his face.

“You do know that was a loaded pistol pointed at you, right?”

“Killyama wouldn’t have let her kill me.”

Rider shook his head at him.

“Don’t worry,” Train assured. “I’m not stupid enough to underestimate her or those friends of hers.”

“Really?” Rider spared him a glance as he drove onto the interstate. “Then tell me something.”

“What?” Train pulled a rubber band out of his pocket before dragging his hair behind his head.