Page 16 of Biker's Conquest: Property of Rage

I exhale slowly, regaining control over myself and the situation at hand.

"You have this extremely comfortable cell to rest in. I spent the past several hours driving your ass back here and I'm exhausted. In the morning, your punishment begins."

She glares, but says nothing.

"Did you miss me?" I ask her, mostly to provoke an answer, not because I think she did judging by her current reaction.

"Of course not," she says. "Why would I miss the most horrific sexual predator I have ever encountered."

I chuckle. "That's not what you were moaning the last time I had you. But don't worry, Keyshawn... I'll have you moaning again."

Because she can't fight back, I grab her cheeks and kiss her hard. Forcefully. I push my tongue into her mouth and let her know that I own every fucking inch of her with that kiss.

But I don't like her glaring, so I leave her cell and lock it with a thick padlock before I walk upstairs, leaving Keyshawn's stubborn ass tied up.

By the time I return,she'll be on her knees and groveling for forgiveness to get the ropes off. I can feel it.

Chapter Ten

Ethan

“Iremember when I used to call you my little bear. Now you’re a very, very big bear.”

“Mom… I’m a grown ass man. I don’t need you reminding me that you used to call me little bear.”

I need a break from the bullshit we both went through today. I got mom set up with her new oncologist but hearing all those big science words just made it all too real. Mom is sick and I can’t look at her without facing that reality.

I can’t let it break me and I can’t show her how fucking scared I am.

“Will you call me when you get to the bar?”

“No. Because again, I’m a grown ass man.”

“Well, you’re still my little boy. I remember changing your diapers. Vividly.”

“This is why I need to be at the bar.”

She laughs and my heart catches. I love my mother enough to die for her, but I don’t know if that love will be enough to save her.

“Fine,” she says. “Just be careful with all the temptation out there. Wyatt says you still gamble.”

“Wyatt thinks he’s Jesus.”

“Hey,” she says. “Don’t talk about my favorite child that way.”

“Yeah right,” I mutter, wrapping my mother up in a conciliatory goodbye hug. “I amdefinitelythe favorite. Especially because I’ll bring back mozzarella sticks from my meeting.”

Mom loves everything deep fried and cheesy.

“Okay, you’re right. You are the favorite. Have a good night. I’ll be on the couch watching the new season ofLove Is Blind.”

“Do I even want to know what that is?”

“You should go on it,” mom says. “That way you can find a girlfriend.”

“Alright. Heading to Mulligan’s now.”

“Bye, sweetie.”

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