Page 18 of Sinful Secrets

“I know you like her. Well, it’s more than that, but there is a job that needs to be done. You claim her as yours, fine, but we still need that information. Just in the meantime, stop being a whiny bitch about it, be a man and tell her what you want, whether it’s a fuck or more than that. Then maybe you won’t be throwing bunnies out of your room and wanking in the damn shower like a teenager.” He smirks.

“You were fucking perving over me, you sick fuck.” I smirk and he stands, walking towards me.

“Be a man, own up to your damn feelings for her and make her yours. If you're not going to do that then do what your club needs you to do and get her fucking talking,” he states before turning and leaving without saying another word.

I get dressed and head straight for the trucks, ready to get back to the cabin. I have a job to do, and I need to stick to that. I ain’t the relationship type, and clearly, I need to fuck her out of my system. I'm Khan, Vice President of the damn Satan’s and a fucking God among women, it’s time to get my head out of my ass and make my move.

Chapter Eleven

Talitha

The cake looks beautiful and I insisted they try some, but they refused. They helped prepare dinner and set the coffee table for Khan and me.

“Thank you for today. Really I… I have never experienced kindness like this. It is foreign to me,” I admit.

“Don’t thank us, we are just glad you're talking now and starting to enjoy life.” Rose smiles. “Well, whilst hiding away in a cabin anyway.” She laughs.

I hug them all goodbye as the Satan’s arrive to pick them up. I watch Khan get off his bike and walk towards me, his eyes burning into mine. Everyone is saying goodbye or other things to him, but he just ignores them and he stops inches from me. Leaning in, he cups my face, his lips brushing against my cheek as he places a soft kiss.

“Miss me, Bambi?” he asks softly. I don’t answer, I stand frozen to the spot. He laughs, his thumb stroking my cheek. “Fucking breathe, Bambi.”

“I… I made cake,” I stutter and he lets out a small laugh before taking my hand and pulling me inside, shutting the door behind us. He notices the coffee table all set up for dinner. “You have been busy,” he states, letting go of my hand and getting a beer out the fridge.

I still stand there, unsure of what I am supposed to do or say. “Uh, yes,” I agree. He walks over to the pot on the stove, lifting the lid, and he sniffs and moans.

“Smells good,” he states, walking to the couch and sitting down. He pauses before taking a sip of beer. “Bambi, you gonna come sit down or stand there all night?” he asks.

“I, err, um, need to serve dinner,” I mutter, scurrying over to the kitchen; my heart is beating widely in my chest, and I have no idea why. Maybe it’s the way he greeted me when he came in or maybe it’s what the old ladies said earlier? All this pressure, them saying he liked me, that I like him… Does he know I like him? Am I doing this right? I wish someone would tell me what I am exactly supposed to do because I have no idea.

I plate up our food and carry it over to him. “Here,” I state, placing them down on the table. “Trudy helped make it, she said it’s your favourite of hers, Spanish chicken?” I ask.

He pats his stomach and smiles wide. “Hell yeah it is.” I sit next to him and serve up for the both of us. Before I can pick up my cutlery, he takes my hand in his and brings it to his mouth, placing a kiss on the back of my hand. “Thank you for this.”

“Err, you're welcome,” I mutter shyly.

We eat dinner in silence as I'm not sure what to say. Something feels different between us, like something has shifted.

I clear the plates away and bring out the chocolate cake. “Wow,” he says, stunned.

“Thank you, I'm pretty pleased with it.” I smile, cutting him a slice and handing it to him, and he takes a huge bite, moaning. I laugh as he has big splodge of chocolate frosting on his cheek. I reach forward and wipe it with my thumb, then lick it off. “Hmm, delicious.” He pauses, watching me. “What? What’s the matter? You don’t like it?” I ask, worried.

“Fuck, Bambi, between you and this chocolate cake, I'm about ready to explode in my damn pants.” He sighs. My eyes flicker down to his pants confused and back up to him. “Jesus,” he moans, placing down his cake before he stands and starts pacing the room. I take a bite of the cake, wondering if there is something wrong with it.

“There’s nothing wrong with the damn cake.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Okay,” I answer, not really sure what I'm supposed to say.

He paces back and forth. “No, no, it’s not okay. Shit, I'm not handling this right. I'm being a fucking pussy,” he rants. I don’t comment, I just sit and watch him.

“I… No… You! You make me feel things, things that I swore ever since I was a kid that I would never feel. I promised myself that I would never get these feelings, because it makes you vulnerable. I was doing good, I was getting my dick sucked, I had all the club pussy I could ask for. Life was damn good, no complications for me or the club, then they all start meeting women, and that is when shit started going down. You know I lost a friend, a brother, and all because he loved his woman. This is what happens, love brings trouble and it has the fucking power to destroy you,” he rants.

I sit, feeling hurt and a little confused. “I am trouble?” I ask.

“Yes,” he snaps quickly. “No,” he adds. “Fuck, I don’t fucking know!” He sighs.

“Then tell me what you do know,” I state calmly, but I can feel my heart racing in my chest with the uncertainty of where this conversation is going.

He looks to me. “You want me to answer honestly?” he asks. I nod my head and swallow nervously.

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