Page 68 of Biker's Collar: Property of Scrap

“Fuck, your pussy smells great,” Owen murmurs. Then my underwear flies off my ass so fast, it’s like an Olympic sprinter ran off with them. I shiver as Owen moves his head closer to my wetness and slides his tongue inside me like it’s nothing.

Okay, this is an apology…

His tongue slides perfectly between my lower lips, slipping in a circle around my clit that feels like just the perfect amount of stimulation for me. I moan. Instantly. Without meaning to moan. My legs spread apart a little bit as Owen’s big, masculine tongue spreads me open and he starts eating me like a 3 a.m. slice of pizza after a night at the club.

The way his tongue moves around my clit is far unlike anything I experienced with him before. I gasp sharply and try to back away so I can allow myself to feel everything going on between my legs with Owen’s tongue.

He moves away from my lower lips and starts teasing my inner thighs with soft kisses instead, not exactly giving me a break from the intensity of pleasure, but amping everything up by spreading tingling pleasure in all the surrounding areas. Owen leaves behind little supernovas with each sharp, stinging kiss to my thighs. Then he sucks on my outer lips with such passion that I cry out. Loudly.

I don’t know who the hell else might be here, and I know we aren’t at the same condo as before, so I try to bite down on my lower lip to stop myself from moaning but Owen’s tongue hits my clit in just the right spot at just the wrong time. I bite down so hard on my own lip that I bleed, but the rush of adrenaline doesn’t fuck with my high from Owen’s tongue.

With blood dripping down my lower lip and chin, Owen stays oblivious and thrusts his tongue so deep in my pussy that I climax hard. My hands instinctively reach for Owen’s head as I try to push him away from my pussy, but he won’t stop until he decides he’s done, so my fingers end up sinking into his soft, wispy hair as I lose myself in pleasure again.

This man knows exactly what he’s doing, so it’s easy to cum again when his tongue returns to my clit for more direct pleasuring. My thighs and lower lips are as juicy as two peaches smashed together. The juices are all over my calves. I haven’t missed the floor.

Owen gazes up at me from his knees with this damn look in his eye. The irresistible look that stops me from constantly searching for an excuse or a chance to run away. He hooked me… the same way those fucking poker tables and dice games hooked him.

“I love you,” he says, his voice hoarse from all the hard work he did between my legs. His words are almost enough to make me cum without any extra assistance.

“You are crazy.”

“I know,” he says. “I wagered you. I screw up a lot… but you make me want to be better, Vickie. For the first time in my life, I want to chase something other than the next high.”

“You said you loved me and wagered my life right after.”

“And it won’t happen again,” he says. “And… I don’t just want you running tables. I want you by my side.”

“You won’t let me go,” I whisper. But the truth is, I stopped trying to run away from Owen, didn’t I? There’s something about him that I just can’t let go of… Maybe it’s because I know that even if he screws up… we’re always going to end up back together.

“I love you,” Owen says again, standing this time so he’s just above my eye level. “I know your ass needs to hear it a lot because of what happened. And I’ll tell you every single day…”

He pulls me close. Then kisses me. And I feel the urge to say the words I know he wants to hear once I pull away from him.

“I love you,” I tell Owen Shaw.

“I know you do, baby,” he says. “You can’t help it. Same way I can’t help it.”

Thirty

Owen

Ithought when Hakeem died, my life would get easier and I would get to spend every minute of my free time fucking Vickie all over Vegas. Nothing could be further from the truth and I need release. Hakeem’s death and the assets the club seized all over the city have become a headache to sort through, leading us to hold another club meeting tonight.

Deacon Hollingsworth, club name “Rage”, calls for an emergency meeting at our new temporary digs in Vegas. We got a lot of good business from Hakeem, but some of the buildings, people and situations we have to deal with are going to be a whole new nightmare.

Southpaw gave me this task for a reason. Now that Hakeem’s dead, I have to build up our club in a city that will burn your ass to a crisp if you spend any time outside in the sun. Our meeting is late at night and I’m taking Vickie with me. I understand my brother’s intentions – to make Vegas the “Beta chapter” of the Rebel Barbarians – but for that to happen, we have a mess to clean up.

I walk downstairs, half expecting Vickie to not be ready. But she’s ready.

“You better put a jacket on over that top,” I snap as I look at the sexy ass outfit Vickie’s wearing as she lounges on the couch, gazing at some cake baking video on her phone. Vickie puts her phone down and I can tell she’s going to catch an attitude.

“This is a verydemuretop,” Vickie says. “What’s your problem?”

My problem is… everything. I’m nervous about tonight and I don’t wantanythingto happen to Vickie. Magnum has been recruiting Rebel Barbarians who either just patched in or want to patch in so we can get shit started over here.

“Your tits look incredible. You should cover up,” I tell her. “They’re bikers. Not saints.”

Vickie gives me another one of her irritated looks.

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