Page 22 of Amy's Santa

Xander

While I certainly didn’t dream of ever stepping foot inside a one-percenter motorcycle club, I’m glad I’ve come here with Amy. Not just to chase away her nightmares, but seeing how she grew up has given me a deeper insight into her.

Even the meeting with Heart and Drummer had shown me how protective these men are toward their women, not unlike Doms in many ways. As for her freedom about sex, none of the people here seem to be shy. As last night had shown me, she’s used to an environment where people aren’t scared to show their sexuality, and where women are called property of the men.

Not that those women are pushovers. Like Amy, it would appear, it’s just that sometimes they’re content to give their control over, particularly sexually.

I’ve given her three months of my life. Three months where I’ve spent most of my free time with her, slept with her each night, while keeping my distance and showing my restraint. Like any self-respecting Dom, I take pride in how I can control myself, but like any man, there comes a time when a limit is approached. At that point you either need to walk away, or, take the reins.

Standing behind her as she’s engrossed watching her friends and family ride out, I’m quickly calculating what I could do to earn her trust, not just continue as we are, but push her in different ways.

Gently, I rest my hands on her shoulders, feeling encouragement when she doesn’t evade my touch. “How are you doing?” I can feel her tension beneath my fingers.

“You told him. My dad knows I’m into kink.”

“He didn’t criticise you, did he?”

“No, but… He wants to talk when he gets back.”

“Amy. That’s not about you or your proclivities, it’s about Flint.”

She’s still watching the dust from the bikes swirling in the breeze. “I don’t want them to hurt him.”

“You need him off your back.”

“I don’t want to cause trouble for the club.”

“I suspect a talk with Heart and Drummer will set him straight.” Though I suspect they’ll do more than exchange words with him.

There have been many times I’ve been tempted to do just that, but I’m a renowned surgeon, not a man who lives by his fists. Violence is an abhorrence to me, but I can turn a blind eye in circumstances like these, just can’t bring myself to perform the deed. I’d tried talking to Flint, it hadn’t worked. I doubt he’d ignore a similar message delivered by the Satan’s Devils.

“You think they’ll just talk?” she scoffs.

I change the subject, wanting her focus on me, not on what might happen to the man who abused her. I lower my head. “How long will they be gone?”

“A couple of hours.”

That’s enough. If she’s willing to go for it. “How about we go back to the suite, and I’ll take your mind off of that upcoming talk with your Dad?”

I’ve used my Dom voice so she can’t mistake what I’m asking. She inhales sharply.Too much? Too soon?

Gently I move my hands from her shoulders and touch her arms, lightly wrapping my fingers around her biceps. I pull her back into my body, tiny movements, a calculated risk on my part. I tighten my hold. It’s the most she’s allowed me since Flint had trapped her.

“I’d never hurt you.”

“I know.” It comes out as a whine. “I know that, but I can’t control my reactions.”

“How about you give me control?”

“Why here? Why now?” she says, almost wonderingly.

“Because you’re away from Phoenix. You’re in a place where you know you are safe. Where men would kill anyone who dared hurt you. I know, because your dad just spelled it out.”

A laugh is startled out of her. “Dad threatened you?”

“Yes. So where could you be safer?”

“What if, what if… I can’t?”

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