Page 43 of Biker's Collar: Property of Scrap

No way the kid wakes up tonight after what she’s been through. I still need release. Vickie steps towards me, but she doesn’t comply the way I want to. Time to get more real with her.

“You’re coming to bed with me tonight.”

“With your daughter in the house?”

“I can’t put her out. Now get over here.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Vickie says, her lower lip pouting out stubbornly and practically begging me to suck on it. My cock twitches in my pants. She can’t get out of this… I don’t care what she does.

“What did you mean?” I say. “Because if you’re threatening to scream, I’ll just shove a pair of panties in your mouth.”

Vickie’s lips purse together angrily, only heightening my desire to spread them open with my dick. This woman doesn’t have a fucking clue what she’s doing to me. Or if she does, she doesn’t care. If I don’t get my dick wet, I won’t have the capacity to spend the rest of the day tomorrow treating her with kindness. I’m already on edge. I’ll have to get Wyatt’s permission to handle Kaylee-Marie the way I deem necessary. The club business with the Midnight SS troubles me greatly.

We need to go to war. Wyatt is right. But how can I have everything? Vickie. War. And my daughter safely tucked away from all of it. I take Vickie’s hand, intending to comfort her with the gesture, but instead causing her to yank it away.

“I don’t want to go to bed with you.”

“I don’t care.”

“Why not?”

“Because. You’remine.I’m not letting you back out there, so you should get used to this.”

“Is this your idea of a relationship?”

“It’s a lot better than yours,” I snarl. “I trusted you. I opened my heart up to you and you drugged me while I was at my lowest.”

My emotions get the better of me, which I hate. “I could easily get back at you for what you did. Find some other asshole to sell you back to.”

“Oh yeah?” she asks. “To who? Your brother?”

She’s trying to get a rise out of me. But only because I got a rise out of her. She barely wants to show it, but I can tell from Vickie’s voice.

“I could sell you to someone in Vegas.”

Everything about her changes. She gets serious. Oddly tense. I sense there is more to the story, but she doesn’t offer more. Just dark, angry eyes, gazing straight at me with pure fury. I wait a beat for her to say something, but Vickie just glares at me.

“Doesn’t that scare you?” I continue, hoping to get a rise out of this infuriating woman who still doesn’t seem to give a shit about how much she hurt me. More tension. More anger.

“You have more important shit to do than that,” Vickie says, keeping everything she can away from me.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Vickie?”

“Right now?”

“You’re right,” I respond, regaining control over her hand again. She tries to pull away again, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting her go. “I don’t care. You’re coming to bed and you’re going to satisfy me.”

“You would do that with your daughter in the house?” Vickie says, desperate to guilt trip me out of taking what I want from her. Nothing she says will work. “Really?”

“Don’t try to guilt trip me. Bite down if you feel yourself getting loud. Although, you wouldn’t worry about that unless you worried about enjoying it.”

Vickie keeps trying to pull away from me as I drag her upstairs to my bedroom.

Waverly’s barely-used bedroom is downstairs. I have security cameras everywhere outside her bedroom and a baby camerabecause I never lost my paranoia that her mother or an enemy of the club would kidnap her. There’s nothing to worry about leaving my daughter downstairs.

Vickie’s efforts to pull away from me fail completely as I drag her off to my bedroom and then shut the door behind us. I lock the door and let go of her. Vickie shoves me. Hard.

“I helped you,” she says.

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