“Because I’m irresistible, baby.” I popped a kiss on his lips. “Are yousureyou don’t want to get on your knees and suck my dick?”
He pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth, mouth open in thought, before he finally shook his head again. “Can’t. I have things to do, and I only have time on the weekends to get them done. I need to drop into the salon to make sure Jorge is doing okay and do some bookwork. This is the only time I get to help KC with things, too. I want to spend time with him.”
I nodded in understanding and cupped his face, kissing him. The water sprinkled around us and the feeling of being happy weaved a bizarre sensation through me, like a shooting star ablaze. Quain and I had been at each other’s asses for so long that being content with him was strange, but in a good way. I’d finally fucked him, and now that the need had been met I wanted more. I wanted to take this annoying fucker out on dates.
“You know, the Kings usually have a party on Saturday nights. You should come.”
“To a Kings’ party?” He laughed. “I’ve seen the biker shows on television. Those sorts of parties are all about sex and drinking, right?”
“What party isn’t?” I pressed my forehead to his and closed my eyes, inhaling his scent, which came up with nothing but the smell of wet clothes. Not even the dull throb of the injury on my head and the bruises on my ribs and face could ruin this moment. “Doesn’t matter if it’s a biker party or not, everyone at parties are either drinking or fucking.”
He hummed and curled his arms around my neck. “Fine, but listen to me good, biker boy. If you fuck anyone at that party, I’ll cut off your dick and shove it down the slut you were fucking’s throat, okay? I finally let you have me, and the sex was great, but I don’t want to see you fuck anyone else.”
I raised my eyebrows, amusement mixed with desire warming my insides. My dick jerked and his gaze shot down to it.
“Are you turned on by the idea of me cutting off your dick?” he asked with a grin.
I grabbed his shoulders and shoved him backward against the tiled wall of the shower. Crowding in on him, I gave my dick a firm tug. “Nah, I like the possessiveness. You want me all to yourself.”
He snorted. “This isn’t a relationship, Luke. We’re fucking.”
“Maybe,” I whispered, laying gentle, teasing kisses up his jaw. He shivered against me. “And maybe you don’t want anyone else touching my dick. All you had to do was ask, humbug. You know you make me wild.”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and relaxed against the wall. “It’s sex, Luke. And yes, I happen to enjoy your dick. I just don’t want to see you fucking anyone else after you invited me to the party.”
“Liar,” I singsonged. Licking a stripe up his neck, I smiled when he inhaled sharply. “But don’t worry, I feel the same way. Ifanyonetouches you sexually, I’ll drive my knife through their chest.” I straightened and stared into his heated eyes. “I’ve had you, Quain. You’re mine now.”
He licked his lips and slammed his mouth against mine. I shoved him harder against the wall and placed my knee between his thighs, rubbing it against his clothed dick, both of us moaning.
“You’re so fucking hot,” I murmured against his lips. “I want to fuck you again.”
“You have a meeting,” he said, creeping his hand up into my short hair and scraping his fingernails over my scalp, careful to avoid the stitches. “I’m not going to have sex in front of your friends tonight, Luke, but if you find a private room, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me. Fuck you, fuck me. I don’t care what we do.”
I grinned. “I’m gonna rock your world, baby. All my brothers will hear how much.”
He rolled his eyes. “If you say so. Now finish showering, I have things to do.”
Slapping my ass again on the way out of the shower, he shut the door with a wink.
* * *
I walkedinto the dark clubhouse, already filled with drinking brothers and whores and groupies who had shown up really early for the party tonight. They’d be shitfaced by the time the rest of the club showed up. I saluted Josh behind the bar and walked toward him and Rogue, who sat on one of the stools, which probably had a permanent outline of his ass because he sat in it so often. Whenever Josh manned the bar, Rogue stayed right there, keeping him company.
“Hey, guys, what’s up?”
Josh dumped a glass on the bar top and filled it halfway with rum before he grabbed a can of Coke, too. He knew my preference well by now. His hair was pink today, but every time I saw him it was a different color. I couldn’t keep up with his style changes. The only thing that stayed the same was his clothing choices, which were a little more transparent than before. His shirts were always mesh and half the time black. His pants switched between jeans or leather, depending on how he was feeling that day.
Rogue, on the other hand, stayed exactly the same—jeans, boots, flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves and his leather cut over the top, our patch slapped on the back. Our insignia was a skull with a crown, wings spreading out from behind the boned head. When I asked King how he’d come up with it once, he’d just shrugged and said, “No idea, I was drunker than an Irishman on St. Paddy’s Day.”
Killough was there at the time, and he’d snorted and downed his whiskey, ignoring the jab. His pet, however, had raised his glass and said, “Better drinkers and better at fucking, too.”
That’d been a helluva day. I’d had the fun of watching Killough pound his pet over one of the couches, not caring who watched, as long as they didn’t touch.
Josh winked at me. “You look freshly fucked.”
Rogue glanced in my direction and smirked. “You gettin’ laid, Barber?”
I shrugged, not denying it as I took the stool next to Rogue. “Maybe. You invited to church?”
