Page 16 of Biker's Property

“You were very rude,” she says. “That woman is working the night shift. You could have been a little more respectful.”

“Okay, church girl.”

She stiffens when I call her that. Shit. My suspicions must be right then. She’s from some type of religion… I mean, most people have some type of religion. Joslin appears to be the serious type. I almost feel bad about how rough around the edges I am.

“I’m serious,” she says. “You should apologize tomorrow.”

“Hm. Right after I get my tongue in your pussy.”

She storms ahead.

“Hey! I don’t even know what room we’re going to.”

“Of course your drunk ass doesn’t know,” she says. I can tell she’s pretending to whisper, but she wants me to hear every word out of her mouth. I don’t know when Joslin got the athletic abilities to move so quickly through the hallways, but I find it hard to keep up with her.

She stops at door 444. Did we really walk up four flights of stairs? She presses the motel key against the door, but it flashes a red light. I grab her hips and push her body into the door. She makes a quiet yelp and freezes.

“Sorry.”

I don’t know how my hands landed on her hips. I only meant to grab that key. Joslin whips around and thrusts the spare key against my chest.

“Back up, Ryder,” she says, using my real name and unfortunately getting me rock fucking hard the second she says it. Joslin’s mind control over my dick instantly causes me to step back. She turns around and the motel key works. The door swings open, but I can’t even focus on taking a step forward because my eyes are laser focused on Joslin’s perky, cute ass.

Hot damn… she has a nice ass.

I can’t tellif I’m only noticing because I’m drunk or if her ass really looks that good. But it looks fluffy, well-proportioned to her size, but with enough ass that I could hold onto it. I stumble forward and barely catch the door before it closes. Joslin just keeps walking towards the bed, completely oblivious to the effect her body has on me.

What the hell did I get into tonight?

I haven’t beenthis close to a woman since I got out of prison. It’s been a long, long time for me. And the liquor I have in me already turned me into a demon somewhere along the highway. I want her. I want her something fierce. I want her more than I want the spare bottle of whiskey in the pocket of my leather jacket that she’s still wearing, covering up that soft, perky ass that I want to touch so bad.

Joslin makesthe situation worse by shrugging off my jacket and sitting on it while on the edge of the bed. She looks at me and then sighs.

“I just need to sit. I’ll go sleep in the bathtub.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Get in the bed,” I say to her, taking my shirt off to prepare myself for some much needed rest. I’ll need the whiskey from that jacket before I get to sleep. Nothing sends a man to sleep faster than a shot of whiskey. But then again, nothing wakes a man up faster than a shot of whiskey. Depends on the time of day.

“You smell like a liquor store,” she says. “I’m not climbing into a bed with you.”

“Why not?”

“We’re not married, for one thing,” she says, giving me a stern look as if her argument makes any sense. “For another thing, I don’t want to.”

“I don’t care if we’re married,” I mutter, unbuckling my belt. Joslin looks terrified, but she doesn’t take her eyes off me, encouraging me to slowly strip down to my underwear so I’m wearing what I need to get to sleep. Can’t stand all those clothes on me. Barely wore a shirt in prison.

“I care,” she says.

“I think God will be a lot more concerned about the fact that you killed someone.”

My pants fallto the ground and Joslin lets out a little yelp before her eyes fall straight down to my crotch. I have nothing to be ashamed of, but it would have been my preference to not have the world’s most obvious erection. Joslin’s eyes get as wide as they can and she has to force herself to look away.

She had a husband, right? That means she’s seen a dick before and there shouldn’t be anything shocking about what I have between my legs.

I approach the bed, ignoring Joslin on the edge and crawling beneath the covers. Fuck, it feels good.

“Hand me the whiskey,” I mutter as my head hits the pillow. It’s a lot easier to get to sleep when you don’t have to worry about some asshole knifing you in your sleep. Or worse.

“I’m going to the bathtub.”

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