Page 204 of Misrule
She licked her lips. “I’m going to suck your cock the entire drive to my house.”
It would be so easy to take relief in her mouth and pussy. Instead…he held his hand up and pointed to his wedding band. “As long as Kendall is my wife, I’m not going to sleep with you, Emily.”
Her smile wavered. “Me in particular? Or any other woman?”
“Any woman,” he corrected. “You’re beautiful, sexy, everything I would want.”
“Except there’s Kendall,” she said softly, sadly. “I thought you two were over.”
“I don’t know what we are. Until I figure that out, you and I can only be friends.”
“Kendall is so lucky to have you,” Emily said, her tone as wistful as her look.
“I was lucky to have her,” he amended. “But…but she’s formidable. I put every faith in her, so much so that I never questioned her actions or her motives time and time again. I just…trustedher.”
Bending down, Emily placed a gentle kiss against Johnnie’s mouth, then fingered his lips. “I’m here,” she said sweetly. “For as long as you need me. I’ve grown to care about you so much. If you’ve friend-zoned me, then I have to accept that. But if you need a no-strings attached fuck, I’ll gladly open my pussy to you.”
Clenching his jaw, Johnnie glanced away.
“I hope tonight hasn’t thrown our relationship off its intended track, b—"
“What do you mean its intended track?”
Her eyes widened and she laughed nervously.
“Emily?” Johnnie questioned, after minutes of silence.
“I just hoped by now our relationship would’ve progressed more. I’m just so disappointed,” she added woefully.
“I understand,” Johnnie said as he led her toward the door.
The whistles and stares she received didn’t bother him in the least. That alone spoke volumes.
Chapter Fifty
Walking into Haynes’s Bike Shop, Knox paused. The sun shining through the store windows hit the chrome on the row of bikes and made them gleam with awe-inspiring brilliance. He couldn’t believe when he walked out of this place today, he’d have a motorcycle in his life. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought he’d be a biker. A mere month after talking to Mortician about joining the club, Knox was well on his way. The outline of tattoos had been drawn on his chest and arm, and he’d purchased a stack of books on how to ride. He just had to find the time to read them.
“May I help you, sir?” a lanky boy asked, too young to have much knowledge about the powerful machines before him. His long ponytail reached his waist; huge gauges deformed his earlobes; the tattooed triangles and squares on his fingers must’ve been painful to receive. A biker in the making. Perhaps, a trainee at the shop.
Knox looked at the boy’s name tag. “Uh, Chet, hi. I’m Knox Harrington. Can you please call someone familiar with the bikes?”
Chet smiled. “I’m familiar. My dad owns the shop. I’ve been around them since I was a baby.”
“I see.”
“What type of bike are you looking for? Touring, Cruiser, Sport?”
“It doesn’t matter. As long as it is the best. Top of the line.”
Chet scratched the peach fuzz on his chin. “What experience do you have?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Frustrated, Knox started down the row of bikes. Some were smaller, probably built for speed, while others were huge, double-seated hogs, with all sorts of levers and switches. A low rider with shiny purple paint and chrome so brilliant Knox saw the reflection of his legs. He thought of Roxanne’s Navigator. Bikes were meant to have unusual comments. Cars were not. Besides,hestill hadn’t bought the SUV for her.
Hands behind his back, he moved on, stopping at a motorcycle painted a dark gray, with just a dab of red on the black equipment where the chrome should be. It had two antennas, a second seat with a back as well as arm rests, and impressive handlebars.
“I want this one,” Knox announced. “When you write up the specs, please be sure to order deluxe seatbelts.”
“Seatbelts?”
