Page 87 of His Road Dog

"Babe." He grunted. His hips rapidly thrust, withdrew, plunged, slid out, then his hands held her against him as he stayed deep in her pussy. "Fuck."

He staggered. She gasped, clinging to him.

"I've got you." He pulled out of her body and set her feet on the deck.

"Michael?"

He undid her blindfold. She blinked, rubbing her eyes with her free hand, trying to see clearer. It was dark, only the moon high above, allowing her to view his face.

He gazed at her while he removed the condom. Even after coming, the intensity of what they'd done continued to roll off him. She hadn't even been aware of him putting protection on, and yet he'd kept his head and protected her.

She searched for answers to her questions in his eyes and couldn't make sense of what had happened. Only that he gazed at her as if evaluating her feelings, making her warm against the chill in the air.

"It's cold out here." He held out his hand. "Knife?"

She startled, forgetting that she still had it in her hand and quickly handed it to him.

He held out his finger to her. "Let's go inside."

She latched on, and in the living room, she let go and went to the bathroom while Priest headed toward the kitchen, probably to throw away the used condom. Anxious to talk to him, she hurried and cleaned up, then hustled into the bedroom and slipped into one of his T-shirts to help her get warm.

Priest came into the room. "Are you going to bed?"

"I...no." She approached him. "Can we talk?"

"Shoot."

She walked over to the bed and sat on the end, leaning against the post. "What was that all about?"

"You didn't enjoy yourself?" He cocked his brow. "You sure seemed to like it."

"It was dangerous."

"I wouldn’t let anything happen to you."

"Accidents happen."

"Not around me." He sat beside her. "You trusted me to keep you safe."

"But—"

"There is no difference between when I'm inside of you, or we're at the clubhouse, or you're at work." He squeezed her thigh, then slipped his hand under her leg and brought it over and draped it across his lap. "You should always trust me, and there's no easier way for you to learn than to see it first hand, from me."

Everything with him centered around trust and possession. He claimed every single Tarkio member as his family, took care of them, trusted each man. He'd done the same with her.

He'd drilled it into her head and had her addicted to what he could do to her. She walked around half looped because she was in love with him.

She looked at him. But she had no idea why trust was more important than attraction or commitment or love.

"Why do you like to scare me? Is it because I'm so much younger than you?"

He ran his hand down his beard, tugging it straight. She leaned against him, waiting for an answer. It wasn't something she would let him brush off, because it was important for her to know if he wanted to continue putting her into dangerous sexual positions.

"It has nothing to do with you age," he said.

"Then, why?"

"My lifestyle is dangerous, babe." He slid his finger into the palm of her hand. "I have enemies. The club has enemies. I've lost men. I've saved men. Men, I call brothers."

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