Page 177 of Preacher Man

She’d once thought a troublemaking biker wasn’t for her, someone to avoid at all costs, after all, the bikers she knew were no role models of virtuous goodness. Little had she known Preacher was the man for her, the one who understood every dirty fantasy she had, those desires she whispered in his ear late at night in their bed just to hear his rusty laugh right before he gave her exactly what she wanted.

How hard do you want to ride me, beautiful?

She was the lucky one.

“Hurry.” Panting, she bit his bottom lip. “Before I fall asleep.”

“No sleeping on my watch, wife.” A hand sneaked into her shorts, he’d palm her, she knew, and stroke her sex until she was begging.

Just as his fingers moved over her mound, her breath held, prepared for her world to explode they both heard. “Aun’ Ruby!”

“Oh, god.” Preacher groaned, head dropping. “Let’s pretend we don’t hear him.” Starved kisses dragged over the column of her throat.

“Aun’ Ruby, I waked up!”

“Oh, god.” Preacher thought it deserved repeating. Ruby giggled and hugged him close as he sighed and rested all his weight on her, dry fucking her. “I just knew it, that little cockblocker, he’s doing it on purpose, Ruby.”

“Of course, he is, Preacher man.” Grinning, she cupped his face, kissing him soundly before she slipped out from under him, yelling loud enough for Sebastian to hear her before he began hollering for her again “I’m coming, sweetie.”

“I’m glad someone is.” Grouched her big tough man, both arms flung over his face. The size of his erection in his jeans must be painful she thought, empathy made her want to giggle. Poor baby. The wait would make it sweeter. She kissed him again, stroked light fingers down his zipper. “Don’t start without me, I won’t be long. Remember I love you, Preacher man, and don’t go to sleep.”

She was almost at the stairs when she heard “Hey, Rubes?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you, too. Make it only two stories.” A smile in his voice.

An hour later right before both fell into a drained sleep Preacher did make love to her, very fast. As he had declared before pinning her fast and ripping off her shortsI gotta fuck you quickly before that little cockblocker wakes up for water this time.

God, she loved him.

******

Several Weeks Ago

Footsteps approached. Luxe knew it was different than all the foot traffic she'd heard for the last however long it had been, it felt like hours, could be longer still. She knew it was him coming back. The hard-heavy shuffle grew closer to the door and then stopped. Her hearing strained.

The way her heart rate increased had nothing to do with fear and all to do with wanting to murder, maybe not murder, she'd seen a season of Orange is the New Black and she didn't figure she could make it in prison, even if she did have connections with Jamie Steele who would more than likely help her dispose of an asshole body, for a hefty price. Too much like hard work. But assault and battery with a motel bedside table? now that she could get with.

The key turned in the lock, behind the blindfold she saw the light enter the room before a shadow stepped in.

Smelling food, she stayed perfectly still, not a hair moved, nor a muscle flickered, though her pulse increased steadily catching a masculine scent in the air that hadn't been there a minute ago, she evened out her breathing, let him think she was asleep, like she didn't care what was going on.

"I know you're awake." The deep voice went right through her like burning ice. Rich baritone, the kind of voice smokers had at the end of the night.

Fuck you.

And fuck you, asshole.

With her sight blinded and her tongue held by the tape, all her other senses rose to the forefront, listening to the rustling of a bag landing on the bedside table closest to her, and the creaking of leather. Was he taking off his jacket? Something heavy landed on the chair across the room. You better stop with the jacket, fucker.

Ay Dios mio, this was a state of affairs of monumental irritation.

Luxe didn't need to memorize the room since it washerroom she was being held in. A bed, table, chair, a compact bathroom with a rust-stained tub with a shower head that barely dribbled water. Her backpack was still over by the TV if the asshole hadn't rifled through it already. He wouldn't find much, she never traveled with a lot of cash.

When he didn't say anything more, nervous sweat popped out on her brow.

Keep calm.

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