It doesn’t come out as forceful as I planned. In fact, my whole body is turning into a treacherous little bitch, wondering what he means by that.
“Why do you keep calling me that?” I ask, poising myself not to sound weak at his dirty charm.
He leans down so his face is closer to mine, and my pulse ratchets into the stratosphere, my heart beating dangerously fast.
“I have shit to do. Go inside.”
Ugh, asshole.
“You’re the one on some masculine protector power trip. Go do your shit and stop trying to undermine me.” I give him a filthy look then go to the door, letting myself in.
I don’t flip him off or make any other comments, in fact, I don’t even look at him. Because despite my ire and the need to kick him in the nuts, I’m turned on and do not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing that.
I leave the lights off and stand by the door, then peek through the blinds. He is still there, but his back is to the door and he has taken out his phone. Being the nosy bitch I am, I unlatch the window and open it to listen to what he is saying.
“He comes in again, you call me…. Because I’m going to break his face, that’s why.”
His voice gets quieter as he disappears around the corner. I’m not sure how to feel about that. I was going to make the asshole pay with words. He is threatening violence. Why am I surprised?
Pressing my back against the door, I close my eyes. My heart is pumping wildly and that pulse is mirrored between my legs, a low, tight pull I haven’t felt in a long time.
Damn it. I will not be turned on by the biker threatening to beat up a man who called me a bitch.
No more going into that bar. I’m here to paint, be with my family, and regroup.
“He’s not even that hot.”
I relock the window, make sure the bolt is pulled on the front door, then head to the bathroom, turn on the shower and strip off my clothes.
I’ve been on the go all day and the alcohol hasn’t helped my better judgment skills, which is why my hand trails over my breasts and down across my stomach.
My eyes close as I picture him standing behind me, imagining his hands moving across my wet skin, pinching my nipple and toying with my clit.
The water is hot, the cubicle filling with steam, but the tiles are cold on my back when I lean against them, making me hiss as I push a finger inside myself. Squeezing my eyes tight, I picture his face and his body and those big, veiny arms of his, pulling me against him.
My fingers move faster, I tug on my nipple and bite my lip to keep from crying out too loud. This room backs onto a part of the church, I’m not sure where, but I’m not taking any chances.
Nothing can hold back the orgasm as I imagine him grabbing my hips, lifting me like I weigh nothing and thrusting his long hard cock into me.
“Oh, shit.” My core clenches around my fingers, and bliss rolls through my body in waves. My hand slaps against the shower door to keep me upright. My back bows, water rushes over the top of my head, splitting like a waterfall all around me.
I come back to my body and give myself a quick once-over with some soap. When I step out of the shower, I check my reflection, judging myself for that show of weakness.
At least I got rid of all the crucifixes and pictures of Jesus’ relatives. God isn’t watching me in here.
Masturbating in a church building, over a devil in leather.
“I’m going to hell.”
Chapter Six
Rebel
My work for the night isn’t done. We have eyes on Kivisto and people out looking for Storm, but I won’t go home to bed. I’m too wired.
Raven couldn’t stop me checking the security footage in the bar, watching how that asshole reacted to Kinsley. It was my fault she knocked into his chair, but his response was fucking out of line. I didn’t see the full extent of what happened because she blocked my view.
I was pissed at him calling her a bitch. My anger has reached dangerous levels knowing he shoved her too. If I had seen that, he wouldn’t have walked out of there.
