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“He might be sad.”
Papa Bear shuts off the engine and turns to me. “He hasn’t gotten his dick wet in more than seven years, Talon.”
My father rarely uses my birth name. Calling me Sister Sass is a sign of respect at how we wear the same patch. But right now, he isn’t Papa Bear, club founder.He’s my dad.
“Jester’s been waiting for you,” Papa Bear continues after I cross my arms as if my boobs are under attack. “Now, he’s done waiting. You need to keep that in mind when you’re alone with him.”
“Do you think he’ll hurt me?” I mumble before inhaling sharply and declaring, “Because I don’t think he will.”
“I think he’ll push you and you’ll bend. He’s horny as hell, and you’re lovesick. Then, he’ll wish he waited, and you’ll feel weird about your body.”
“I think I’m ready.”
“Well, you’re either right or you’re wrong. Maybe you’re ready to test that out or maybe you need more time. But if you stayed there alone with Jester, he was absolutely getting you in bed.”
“He never made a move after I turned eighteen.”
Papa Bear’s dark eyes study me as if he’s considering his words. “Jester still saw you as a kid. I mean, you looked exactly the same when you went from child to adult in his mind. Jester can be very literal. He didn’t see any change in you, so he kept waiting. He’s clearly noticed you’re not a kid anymore.”
“Damn right, I’m not, chump,” I mutter and then smile at my dad. “Thank you for protecting me.”
Papa Bear’s wary expression breaks as he shares my grin. “You were so horny on the way home. I haven’t seen any of my kids like that in years.”
“Hey, I kept it subtle.”
Papa Bear grunts as he opens his door. “We better air out the SUV. I don’t want it stinking of your lust when Lady Bug heads to the store tomorrow.”
“Not cool, fool,” I mutter and follow after him.
We enter the main house to find my ten-year-old sister, Katana—brunette bob haircut, poofy skirt, pink shirt decorated with glitter—in the living room with her half sister and my sexy, adult stepsister, Nadia.
Thanks to my peacemaking skills, Kat and Nadia super friendly now. Every time they smile at each other, I get an extra karma point.
“Settle your ovaries, chump,” Zoey tells me from the kitchen island. “Look at you all smug, like you don’t eat shit.”
“I never eat shit. You eat it, brat,” I growl at the five-year-old.
Still sporting pigtails because her dad is obsessed with them, the little brunette shakes her head and jumps down from the stool. She’s wearing her “fierce, feisty, & five” pink T-shirt from her birthday party a few months back.
Though I shouldn’t be intimidated by a child, even if she’s demonic in nature, Zoey refuses to stop imitating me and my fellow biker chicks.
“Listen up,” she says, sounding just like Aqua. “I get how you don’t see how you suck, but we’re not blind here.”
“Stop copying our shit, kid.”
“Get high on my fart fumes, chump.”
Jules laughs at me from nearby. When I frown at her, she shrugs.
“You could have stopped talking like that around her, and she might not be saying it now.”
“Why should I edit myself just because your kid’s a copycat?”
“I just told you why.”
“Look at the fool crying,” Zoey tells Evie.
Her equally evil yet sneakier sister nods. The blonde five-year-old plays sweet, but she’s in cahoots with the bitchy one.Oh, yeah, I’m onto their wicked garbage now!
