Page 20 of Biker's Collar: Property of Scrap

My nervousness now is because any contact with my hair makes me concerned he'll discover my secret and change the course of our night together. I'll have to be a lot more careful if he makes another move for my head. But he doesn't. He touches my thighs, running his hands over my thick flesh before he drops to his knees.

He's serious about getting on his knees for me. The look on my face as he gets on his knees must be... confusion. Something not very sexy. He doesn't seem bothered. I can't imagine my nervous tension is very sexy, but Owen just kisses the tops of my thighs and once he covers the tops of my thighs in kisses and warm tingling spreads through me, he gets to the true work of the night -- peeling my sticky leggings away from my thighs after a shift. Getting my pants over my ass in general usually proves to be a massive struggle.

One that Owen doesn't seem to mind. He lifts me up like I'm nothing and before I can react to help him out, he slides the pants fast over my ass and my butt hits the cold countertops. I suck in air sharply and steady myself on his shoulders so I don't fall off the counter. I'm too distracted by how broad and muscular his shoulders feel beneath my hands to stop him from getting the rest of my leggings off.

I'm one of those women who has the unpopular opinion that thongs are the most comfortable form of underwear. That doesn't mean I relish the sensation of a juiced up thong after a shift of working the poker tables. I nervously make a half-assed effort to squeeze my thighs shut, like that has a chance of stopping Owen from taking my thong off.

I can't tell if I'm wet from sweat, arousal, or just the thong sticking between my folds, but I feel nervous about having a man all up in my business while I'm this... unclean. Owen runs his hands along my bare thighs from his position on his knees and then he touches the front of my thong and exhales slowly.

"How long have those sweet ass lips been getting warm for me?" he whispers as if my pussy could talk to him directly. I shift my ass back on the counter and inadvertently make it easier for Owen to grab hold of my thong and make his best efforts to rip it away from my wetness. He gets it over my thighs and then the sopping pair of underwear falls to the floor.

I just met this man and I have my bare ass and pussy on his countertops.

The worst part about it is... I'm wetter than I've ever been in my life and I actually want his tongue between my legs. This isn't how you treat a mark. Owen taps on my thighs, sensing me closing off as I gently squeeze them shut.

"Open up," he murmurs. "I know your sexy ass pussy tastes as good as it smells..."

Ten

Cash

Present Day

Quin won’t stop giving me that disapproving look from the passenger seat. I have every right to be pissed off but she just blames my reaction on my “red-headed temper” and doesn’t even see how it’s racist…

“This is important, Tanner. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is… We have to leave Avery with my Aunt Deb and you’re pregnant. I don’t want you anywhere near this danger.”

Quin rolls her eyes. “I’ve spent most of my pregnancy hitting up the gun range with Juliette. I’m a lot better at shooting than the last time.”

“That’s not the point…”

She knows the point. I swear Quin loves infuriating me because of the incredible make-up sex that tends to follow our arguments.

“Nothing’s going to happen, Tanner. You worry too much. I heard the entire phone call. Southpaw said your cousin haseverything under control. We just have to pick up the one girl who has no place to go, check in on Ruger and take her to Hunter’s place in Texas. This doesn’t even sound difficult.”

“I should be keeping you out of trouble. Not dragging you into it.”

“We’re helping someone,” Quin says. “Not getting into trouble. Don’t think of it that way.”

Her good heart was the reason I fell for her. The way she loved Avery. The way she wouldn’t let anything get in the way of her loving someone once she started. It’s the type of loyalty you want in a wife… But Quin’s good heart comes with some serious drawbacks. I’m not always the good man she needs me to be.

“Text Deacon that we’re outside and let’s just… do this.”

I look at the woman sitting next to me, wondering when I came to rely on her for so much support. She looks incredible in her latest maxi-dress purchase — a black dress with orange and red tropical flowers patterned all over it. The fabric hugs each one of her curves and her gentle baby bump.

Each day I know her, Quin gets even hotter… She has me wrapped around her finger, and I don’t know if she can tell.

“Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll text Deacon. But if shit gets crazy… I need you to take this truck and head back West.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Quin says. Our eyes meet. Just looking at this woman tugs on my heart strings. I lean over and kiss her, reassuring myself of our connection. That she has my back and our loyalty is mutual. That she’s the one I put first in every situation. When I pull away from her, I pull my phone out and text my cousin. He responds within seconds.

Deacon: Come on in. Lots going on here.

I don’t like the sound of that. Quin and I get out of the truck. She’s never been to Deacon’s place before. He owns several properties in the area, mostly because he’s constantly on the run from some offended ex-lover who wants him dead.

This place looks like a typical Midwestern McMansion in a small subdivision of houses – four couples that most likely hate his neglectful attitude towards lawn care. All the other lawns are bright green and trimmed neatly. He doesn’t do shit to take care of the backyard, so it’s about as sparsely landscaped as our place in Texas.

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