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She glared at him out of the corner of her eye. “I wouldn’t come from that.”
“Oh, yes you would. You’re not heavy into pain, but you like a little. And if I warmed you up nicely, I could do a fair bit to every part of you and you’d beg me for more.” Abby scoffed. Tex kissed her on the top of the head. “Are you gonna stay here while I go to work today or head home? How did you get in here by the way?”
“I borrowed the key from Sarah.”
“Figures. Women working together.”
After one final kiss goodbye, Tex straddled his Harley and headed off to work for the day. He strolled into the garage a little after eight.
“You’re late,” Shooter called from under a Ford.
Tex was unconcerned. “You and I have something in common now.”
Shooter slid out on the rolling board and looked up at him. “I’m never late.”
“No. I mean a woman showed up at my house last night with my name tattooed on her ass, and I’ve gotta tell you, Shooter, if you were half as surprised as I was then you were pretty god damned surprised.”
Hawk laughed. “I thought that was a good thing in your world, cowboy.”
Tex gave him a lopsided grin. “Depends on the woman.”
“So, what’d you do?” Easy asked.
Tex’s half grin morphed into a full one. “Tied her up and did nasty things to her most of the night.”
“Can she still walk?” Shooter asked.
Tex shrugged. “Well, she’s back to sassing me this morning, so I guess I didn’t do any permanent damage.”
Shooter smiled. “So, you and Vegas are finally back together. ‘Bout time.”
“We’re seeing how it goes,” Tex cautioned.
Shooter grinned. “Uh huh. When’s the wedding? I need to pencil it on the calendar. Give the boys time off.”
“We’re just seeing how it goes!”
“Right,” Shooter said. “Like it was just lunch for me and Slick?”
“She’s young!” Tex argued. “Maybe she doesn’t want to marry a dirty old man like me! She doesn’t know yet and neither do I. We’re. Seeing. How. It. Goes.” Shooter was still grinning. Tex glowered. “I do terrible things to her, Chris. Terrible, dirty, depraved things. She may decide she doesn’t like them.”
“Ack!” Shooter said, getting shaken out of his shit-eating grin. “No details! No details! I don’t want to know! As long as it’s, what’s that thing, safe, sane and consensual, I don’t want to hear!”
“I totally want to hear!” said Emilio. “What do you do to her?” he asked, fascinated. “Like you make her take it up the ass and stuff?”
“Oh, my God!” Shooter yelled and glared daggers at Emilio. “First off, seventeen is way too young to know what that is. Second, if you’re lucky enough to get it in the front door, you buy her dinner and flowers. Entiendo?”
“And wear a condom,” Hawk supplied.
“That’s right!” Shooter snapped. “Always wear a rubber. You know that. If some little girl shows up here carrying your baby, I will beat your ass.”
Tex turned to Emilio. “Abby is a highly intelligent woman. I don’t make her do anything, Emilio,” he said in a gravelly tone to let the kid know how serious he was. “She’s with me because she wants to be and everything is her choice. Always. No means no, kid.”
Emilio held up his hands. “Okay, I got it, cowboy.”
Tex nodded. “You just worry about graduating from High School, boy. Plenty of time for women later.”
“She really got your name tattooed on her ass?” Hawk asked, amazed.
“Says ‘Tex.’ Big as Texas,” he replied.
Hawk considered this. “You must be one hell of a Dominatrix.”
Tex scowled at him. “Dominatrices are women.”
Hawk looked confused. “Don’t see your point.”
Tex flipped him off.
“Well, now that the band’s back together,” Shooter said, “Are we all going to Maria’s tonight?”
“Hell, yes,” Tex replied.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Abby was on her second martini when she eyed Mark from across the table they were occupying. Doc and Easy were finishing up a game of pool while Hawk was flirting with some cowgirl in a dark corner. Shooter was at the bar, talking to Maria and keeping an eye on his wife, who was serving drinks in the busy establishment. Abby gulped down the gin and set the glass on the table. “I think we should play for it,” she announced.
Mark looked from Doc’s combo shot to Abby. “Play for what?” he asked, confused since they hadn’t actually been discussing anything.
Abby leaned toward him and indicated the pool table. “If you win, you get to pussy whip me,” she said in just above a whisper. “And if I win, I pussy whip you. This seems like the fairest way.”
Mark suppressed the urge to laugh. “I agree that it does seem fair, but since I lack the appropriate equipment for being pussy whipped, what do you suggest we do about that? Because you’re not whipping my cock or my balls.”
