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I refused to fucking think about it.
Nope.
As far as I was concerned, it was just a dream.
Just a very fan-fucking-tastic, delicious, rip-roaring, hell-of-a-dream. One I planned on revisiting many times in the privacy and security of my bedroom, under lock and key. But before I could relive every exquisite detail, I needed to get the fuck out of there before anyone saw me.
It was bad enough I got shit-face drunk last night, but to wake up next to a brother in the Sons of Hell MC, well, that was something I couldn’t explain. Considering I’ve been very clear that under no circumstances, and I mean no way in hell, would I ever sleep with a brother from the club.
Not that I had anything against the guys.
Hell, I grew up with some of them.
My own brother was a member of the club.
Fuck, I could still smell him on my skin, which made me smile.
“Stop thinking about him. It was a one off. Never gonna happen again.”
Yeah, I could keep saying that shit until I was blue in the face, but I fooled around and rode that monster off into the sunset. I had so many orgasms and saw so many fucking stars, it surprised me that I wasn’t shooting rainbows out of my ass. Speaking of asses, I knew my ass would be walking bowlegged for days.
Never in my life had I ever seen such a magnificent piece of male flesh before. I memorized every inch of that impressive appendage; its image was seared into my brain.
If I could make a mold of it, I’d be a freaking millionaire!
Oh, and the guy wasn’t half bad either.
Chapter Seven
Frank
Hearing my bedroom door shut, I moaned and tried to roll over, to snuggle deeper into my soft bed when something pulled on my arm. I was having the best dream of my life.
It was perfect and I wasn’t ready to wake up just yet.
I wanted a few more minutes with my dream girl.
Tugging my arm again, I frowned when it wouldn’t budge.
Opening my eyes, I tried to make sense of what was holding my arm in place.
Scratch that.
Both arms.
“What the hell,” I moaned as I tried to figure out how both of my hands became handcuffed to my bedposts.
It was impossible, right? Of course it was. The human body was incapable of handcuffing both arms to a post. Unless one could use their feet to secure the other hand. Quickly considering my size and the fact I’ve never used my feet for anything but walking, it was physically impossible.
Groaning, I laid my head back on my pillow, closing my eyes again as my head pounded. I had the worst headache on the planet, which was odd because I rarely, if ever, got them.
That’s when I felt a soft breeze against my body.
Peeking through the slits of my eyes, I took stock of my nakedness.
I never slept naked. My body generally ran cold at night and I preferred to dress warmly, while snuggled under a heavy comforter. I really didn’t like the cold and I never, ever used a fan. So, when I looked up at my ceiling, it stumped me why my ceiling fan was spinning around. To add to my confusion, I saw a pair of frilly black lace thongs twirling around, hanging from one of the blades.
I tried to sit up, only to be reminded of the handcuffs holding me to my bed, and that’s when I felt a stickiness between my legs.
