Page 68 of The Dirty Saint

“You don’t have to do that, Ezra.”

I send him a glare.

“Did I ask? Now, hold still. I have to work on that fat lip of yours.”

I tilt Joey’s chin up. I then tear off a piece of my shirt with my hands, placing the small fabric against the cut on his lip. He lets out a small grunt, and I apologize.

“What’s the diagnosis, Doc,” he asks, smiling.

“I am seeing common symptoms associated with,” I dab at Joey’s wound, careful not to cause him any more pain, “Alpha male disorder.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s quite dangerous, actually. You should really consider getting help.”

“Well,” Joey perks up, pulling my hips toward him. “What do you have in mind?”

“Mr. Odeh, are you trying to get me in trouble,” I feign. “You know doctors can’t have relationships with their patients.”

Joey nips at my ear. “Some rules are meant to be broken.”

“Wait, before we go further, I need—”

“Ezra,” Joey interrupts me, his face still buried in the crook of my neck. “What I am picturing doing to you is borderline criminal so, I am going to say this once and then never again: I participated in an underground fight. That’s where the bruises and other cuts came from.”

I cock my head to the side.

“You really are a fucking moron, you know that right?”

He ignores my comment. “You happy now though?”

I think about it for a moment.

“Partially.”

“I’ll take it,” Joey pulls me closer so that our bodies become one. “Because, God, I can’t wait to taste you again.”

During

JOEY

“Now, why don’t we get these off?”

“No.”

“No?”

“You heard me. Why don’t we keep them on this time?”

Oh.

“You sure?”

Ezra nods, chewing on her lower lip.

“I thought you liked control,” I whisper, my tongue dancing along her breast. She tilts her head back, puffing her chest out so that I can further serenade her with my touch.

“Sometimes it’s nice to let someone else take the reins.”

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