Page 7 of One Night with the Biker

“Your prerogative, princess. Here’s mine. I’m not fucking you unless you swear to me you won’t throw away your fucking life.”

“I can always lie.”

“You could, but I’d be madder than a motherfucker, and you don’t want me to lose my fucking temper.”

“What? You’d punch me? Kill me?”

“I don’t hurt women,” I snarled, “but I have no problem fucking up a motherfucker who wouldn’t deserve you.”

Her eyes rounded. Now, she was getting the fucking picture. “You couldn’t kill Dayton Morgan. Do you know the hell that would bring to you?”

She was planning to marry that pompous fuckhead? Fuck, I’d want someone else to fuck me too if I was set to become the bride of fucking Frankenstein. She sounded so alarmed, I decided not to tell her I meted out justice and retribution to whoever deserved it. Their status in society didn’t matter. If they fucked up or crossed a line, they died.

I swallowed my chuckle. The enforcer mentality survived and thrived. That had been my position for years until the Trinity situation and my brothers decided they wanted me close so I wouldn’t go off the deep end.

“How many times have you been kissed?” I asked crossly.

“A few.”

That knowledge worsened my mood. “Ever sucked dick? Had your pussy licked? Anything?”

Clamping her mouth shut, she glared at me.

Sonofabitch.

“With Dayton,” she finally pushed out.

My eyes almost popped from my fucking head. “You kissed Dayton,” I decided, because she sure as shit couldn’t be telling me she’d allowed him to touch her any other way.

A blush stole into her cheeks. “He asked me to go down on him to make sure he could properly teach me. But he said he doesn’t eat pussy, so he didn’t return the favor.” She looked at me warily. “He gave me very high marks in my oral skills.”

Color me stupid, I didn’t think I could get anymore fucking appalled. How wrong I was. I searched my brain trying to remember which clubs dealt with any of our local politicians. We didn’t fuck with council members. We aimed higher. But I needed someone to help me fuck up Dayton Morgan. If I paid an ally of ours with ties to local leaders enough money, I’d take care of her problem.

“I’m going to call an Uber, Reese,” Ainsley said.

“I’ll give you a ride,” I said harshly, then regretted the words at the filthy images of her riding my cock rising in my head. “Just say the words.”

“You’re not compromising on this, are you?”

“Give me your phone,” I ordered.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

She sniffed but did as I instructed. Once I had her phone, I saved my contact information, then called my number, so I’d get her shit. I held the phone out to her.

“I don’t fuck around with another man’s woman,” I barked. “Wouldn’t want it done to me, so I won’t do it to another motherfucker. But it’s my way or no way, Ainsley.”

She snatched the phone from me. “I haven’t accepted his proposal yet.” She drew in another breath, opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.

“And you won’t,” I decreed.

She glowered at me. When I lifted my brow, she gave me a sullen look but shook her head.

I wasn’t sure what the fuck came over me or where the fuck I intended this to go, but for now, Ainsley belonged to me and that was all that mattered.

After unlocking her door, Ainsley grabbed my hand and guided me into her dimly lit apartment. I closed and locked the door behind us, then allowed her to tug me through the living room, where outlines of a sofa, chair, and tables were grouped on one wall. Picture frames sat on one of the end tables, but I couldn’t see the actual images. A breakfast bar separated the living room and compact kitchen, all of which clipped through my brain at the same pace Ainsley pulled me to a door at the end of a very short hallway. She opened the door, flipped on a light, and stepped aside, so I could enter.

---