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“Oh, fuck,” I gasp. The orgasm shoots through me, a high-voltage jolt of bliss. I bury my face against his neck and stifle my scream. I’m still trembling and seeing stars when he thrusts hard and jerks inside me, burying himself deep and holding there.
“Emily, Emily.” He whispers my name with reverence. “This won’t be enough, firecracker.”
I reach up and kiss him again. “I’m all yours.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Emily
Things have been so good all week. I’ve made it to work on time every single day. I haven’t had to leave early once.
All because of Dex.
Turns out his night owl schedule helps out a lot.
He never grumbles about the early hour. It’s always affectionate kisses and a few sweet words for me before he whisks Libby away, making my life so much easier with such a simple favor.
Saturday morning after breakfast, the three of us are at the table talking about plans for the weekend.
“I don’t need to be at school until three,” Libby says. “You know, things would be less hectic if you’d let me get my license.”
I glance at her cast. “Oh, and you’re going to do that, how?”
“Duh. I mean when I finally get the cast off.”
“Getting your license doesn’t automatically mean getting a car,” I point out.
Dex lifts his gaze to mine. Like he has something to add but doesn’t want to say it in front of Libby.
“Oh. Hadn’t thought of that.” Libby frowns and sits back. “It’s fine. I’d probably be too scared anyway.”
“It’s good to have some healthy fear,” Dex says. “You’ve already been through a bad accident, so you’ll know how important it is to be cautious when you’re behind the wheel.”
Libby purses her lips and seems to think that over.
“You might as well get your permit,” Dex suggests. “You have to wait another six months to even schedule the road test.”
“Ugh,” Libby groans. “Maybe I’ll just wait until I’m eighteen.”
Dex’s phone buzzes and I freeze. Please don’t let that be another stripper emergency. Even though he gave me his passcode and said he didn’t care if I looked at his phone, I haven’t taken him up on it yet. But every time he’s here and gets a message…it’s at the back of my mind. Although, the only messages he ever seems to answer are ones from his brothers.
Dex glances at his phone and frowns. “Damn. I got a guy calling out tonight.” He slides his thumb over the screen. “And I’m needed at the clubhouse.”
“You have to leave?” Libby asks.
“Unfortunately, yes.” He tucks his phone away. “Wish I could have you guys come up to the clubhouse with me.”
“My weekends will be free after this one,” Libby sings. “Then we can do allllll the things.”
Dex glances at me and raises his eyebrows. I want to point out that I’d rather not expose my sister to his brothers’ pierced penises, but he seems to read it in the stare I’m drilling into his eyes. “Sundays are family days,” he says. “But it’s looking like we’re leaving for that funeral I told you about sooner than I expected. So maybe we’ll do it when I get back.”
“Who died?” Libby asks.
“The former president of our Tennessee charter,” Dex explains.
“Was he old?” she asks. “Or did he get shot or something?”
“Libby,” I groan.
“What?” She shrugs.
Dex doesn’t seem offended, though. “Not sure, actually. He was a good guy, though. All our clubs will be there to give him a righteous send-off. Biker funerals can be a big deal. Especially for a former president.”
“Wow. You’re going all the way to Tennessee for a funeral. I guess it is a big deal,” Libby says.
His lips curve into a fond smile, like he’s happy she’s absorbing a bit of biker culture. He stands. “Good luck tonight.”
Libby squints up at him. “What exactly do you do for work that keeps you out so late at night, Dex?”
She asks in a teasingly curious way but my heart hammers faster. Strip clubs aren’t something I want to discuss with my sister right now. Nor do I want to explain why my boyfriend runs one.
“He manages an entertainment venue,” I say quickly, using a variation of what Dex originally told me about his job.
Dex flicks his gaze to me but I can’t read his expression. Is he mad? He has to understand why I don’t feel like explaining Crystal Ball to my teenage sister, right?
Libby—thank you, Jesus—doesn’t have any follow-up questions. She shrugs and picks up her phone, checking her texts.
“I’ll walk out with you,” I offer.
“No, no. Stay.” Dex’s voice takes on a distracted quality. Or is he mad at me for lying? He leans down and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Why does that sound so damn ominous?
DEX
Fucking hell, I hate lying to Emily. The first message I got was Malik calling in sick again—a pain in my ass but not fatal. I can ask a few more brothers to cover his hours. The second was Wrath telling me to get to church.
