Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“I’m not talking to you. You are rude,” she declared, turning her gaze away from Tommy Tom.
Big Papa snorted.
“What did he do, sweetie?” Big Papa asked, sounding all concerned, when in reality he was literally trying not to laugh at a pint-sized Imogen telling big bad Tommy Tom that he was rude.
“He shot me in the butt,” she declared loudly. “And he did it hard, too. I wasn’t even expecting it. Just BAM! In the ass! No warm up, no preparation. No, ‘I’m going to stick this in your butt now.’ No nothing!”
I was shaking by this point.
I would’ve loved to have taped this discussion to share with her later, but she’d likely kill me for even thinking about it.
Everyone else was laughing as well, and the poor woman didn’t even realize that what she said and how she said it was so suggestive.
Tommy Tom’s smile was the biggest.
“I’ll have to remember to warn you next time, Imogen,” Tommy Tom promised. “I wouldn’t want to surprise you like that again.”
She sighed.
“It’s okay,” Imogen shrugged. “You were pretty gentle for my first time.”
I covered her mouth before she could say anymore.
“You and me have some things to do,” I declared as I helped her up.
“What kind of things?” she asked curiously. “I wasn’t aware we had anything to do.”
Instead of answering, I finished what was left of my beer with one swallow, tossed the empty in the trashcan next to the table, and waved.
“Catch y’all later,” I nodded.
Each man said something resembling goodbye through their laughter, and I had to hurry Imogen along less she hear the things that were coming out of their mouths.
We headed down the hall, her gait slow and easy, as she walked beside me.
Her head was up and turned slightly to study the walls of the clubhouse, and I knew the moment she saw the picture.
“What is that?” she asked.
“That is me,” I said. “Who does it look like?”
She shook her head. “It looks like you’re a sadistic, bike riding devil.”
I grinned.
The picture she was referring to was a photo of me in my leather cut, hair under a black bandana. I had black shades wrapping around my eyes, and a black bandana that resembled a skeleton pulled up over my mouth.
I really did look quite intimidating in the photo, but it got cold as fuck out in the winter, and I sure as hell didn’t want to ride without all the protective clothing I could pile on.
“I guess if that’s what you want to call it,” I teased. “It was Halloween anyway. It was festive.”
She snorted. “Is that Truth?”
I nodded at her side. “He was the zombie. Mine wasn’t as inventive. His got a lot more attention.”
She hummed in agreement. “I’m sure.”
With that, she turned, putting the wall at her back, and drug her finger from the hollow of my throat down to the top of my pants.
“Tell me something,” she ordered.
My eyes followed the way her nail traced the lines my abs made against the shirt.
“What?” I asked, catching her hand when she tried to slip it under my shirt.
The woman was quick, though, and brought her other hand up—knowing for a fact I wouldn’t stop her since it was her sore arm—and slipped it underneath my shirt to rest against the skin of my belly.
“I’m horny,” she declared. “Really horny.”
I snorted. “You’re also high on Vicodin,” I told her. “I’m not one to take advantage of ladies while they’re under the influence.”
“Hmmm,” she murmured, crowding my body. “I think you need to take care of my itch.”
I grinned.
“Yeah?” I ran my finger along the length of her shoulder, stopping to curl my finger around a loose strand of hair. “Where do you want to do this at? The hallway?”
I expected her to say no.
In fact, I expected her to deny it immediately.
Did she?
Hell no.
Her eyes went calculating and her head turned to study the hallway that led to the back bedroom.
“Your club members won’t be up for a while. It’s still early. Only nine o’clock,” she pointed out.
I bit my lip.
“We have to go home tonight. I’m not leaving your family there by themselves with all that bullshit that went down yesterday,” I told her. “If I take you, we’ll spend the rest of the night fucking, and I don’t have time and neither do you.”
She pushed me, and I took a step back even though I didn’t need to.
Then she started to undo the buttons of her shirt.
“My dad is there,” she explained.
I blinked.
“Isn’t your dad a doctor?” I asked skeptically. “What can he do that’ll protect your family? No offense, but their duty is to heal, not to protect.”
She looked at me like I had a screw loose.
“Isn’t that kind of like the pot calling the kettle black?” she asked teasingly, her hand going from just underneath my pec to just above the waistband of my jeans.