Page 22 of Savage Protector

“Oh.” What else was I supposed to say? Sorry about losing your job? Not like I could judge. I’d never officially worked a day in my life. Not because I didn’t want to, but because my father wouldn’t allow it. He insisted I grow up differently than he did and when I followed his carefully laid out plan, I would marry a wealthy man and be a great support to my husband and his family.

It all sounded antiquated, but kind of sweet in his old school way until I realized too late there was a dirty under layer to his plans that was more about business connections than some sort of fatherly protection.

“Yeah,” he said. “I saw myself staying in the Corps until retirement, not going back to my old life.”

His eyes narrowed again and sparked my curiosity. “Old life? What does that entail?”

“You sure you want to know? I was as far from sheltered as I could get and you might not like me as much once you know.”

Now I was intrigued. I set down the rest of my sandwich and shifted a little closer until our knees touched. “Oh I definitely want to know. Besides, anything has to be more exciting than my life of home school, security guards and stuffy dinner parties.”

His brows lifted and I could see the questions in his eyes. He refrained from asking.

“Fine. I’ll tell you, but then you owe me.”

I grinned, imagining exactly what I would owe him and hoping it meant more of those amazing orgasms he kept giving me and not me detailing my ugly family history. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.” I cringed a little. Hopefully, I could handle his whatever.

“You sure you're ready?”

I laughed. “Lay it on me. I’m a big girl.”

“I grew up in an MC in the tiny speck on the map called Sultan, Washington, only a couple of hours ride from here, but as far from city life as you could imagine.”

“MC?”

“Motorcycle club.”

I grabbed his thighs and leaned forward. “Oh my God. Like on television. I knew it. You are a badass.”

He rolled his eyes at me. “Badass Marine, remember? And no, living in an MC is not like what you watch on television. Even reality television isn’t reality, let alone some scripted show where the bad guys do so much crazy shit any real person would be dead or rotting away in prison for life within a year.”

“Awww. Don’t ruin it for me. I liked watching it. It’s the perfect show for a drinking game. Every time someone gets shot, drink. Every time someone tells a lie, drink. Every time someone cheats on their girl, drink. And so on. Thanks to my best friend, Mr. Patron, I’ve never made it through an entire episode sober.”

“You’re a nut, babe.”

“I am not a nut. Sheltered remember? I lived vicariously through my binge watching.”

“You are a nut. But I want a kiss anyway.”

He pulled me into his lap and covered my mouth with his. I almost melted from the instant shot of heated lust from him to me. His hand wrapped around the back of my neck, holding me close with a firm grip. His tongue touched mine and I had to place my hands on his chest to steady myself.

Heat flared between my legs, but I wasn’t ready to go there quite yet. I wanted to hear more of his story. I was fascinated about this club of his. With great effort, I pulled free and sat back. “I want more story. No fair distracting me.”

He groaned. “Okay, fine. But don’t forget you offered quid pro quo.”

I didn’t care what I had to do in return as long as he kept talking to me in that rough low voice that gave me goosebumps. Him getting turned on by me was the most attractive sound I’d ever heard.

This time he didn’t let go as he cleared the dishes before he turned to the side and spread us out on the bed with my back to his front. He even grabbed my hips and nestled me against his already hard cock. With that tucked between my cheeks I was already growing slick. I had no idea how long I could hold out before I begged him for sex again and I had a feeling that was all part of his plan.

“You’re like the devil. The little one that sits on your shoulder and whispers about how much fun bad is.”

A rumble of laughter vibrated through my back. “Then we’re perfect together. The princess and the devil, a match made in lust.”

I was going to resist as long as I could, but I had a feeling I didn’t have much time. “Story, please.”

He sighed, but continued. “My father was the president. Held that title for most of my underage life.”

“Ooh like—” He covered my mouth with his hand, cutting me off.

---