Page 33 of Gunner

One crook of my finger and she obeyed without question.

I squeezed the crown to hold off the orgasm that instantly threatened at the idea of her on her knees at the foot of my bed, her head bowed in submission.

I tugged at the engorged flesh, remembering the fire in her eyes when she threw her drink at me. God, the punishment I would dole out when she was mine. All that sass and fire would undoubtedly make her the rebellious, bratty type, the kind of woman who knew the rules yet chose to ignore them. The mere thought had my heart racing.

I inhaled deeply as I swiped my thumb over the head of my cock, imagining Haizley’s tongue slipping out to capture the bead of pre-cum that leaked from the tip. Just the idea of her brown eyes staring up at me as she wrapped her lips around me had me on the edge.

The image of her choking on my dick, her eyes watering, drool seeping from between her lips as she tried to take all of me, brought me closer to the edge.

My hand sped up, and I leaned back against the wall of the shower for support as I brought my other hand down and rolled my balls between my fingers. Tugging on my sac to the point of pain helped to prolong the telltale tremor that began in the small of my back.

I knew it was coming.

I knew my body.

There was no stopping the feeling that had taken root as I fantasized about Haizley giving up all of her control to me. Allowing me to be the source of the pain that would bring her the ultimate pleasure.

The back of my head slammed against the wall. My teeth dug into my lower lip in an attempt to control the groan that refused to be contained as my cock erupted in my hand. Cum sprayed from my dick, coating the shower curtain as my legs gave out and I slipped, collapsing on my ass.

“Fuck,” I gasped out loud.

Certain the reality would far exceed the fantasy, I closed my eyes, still slumped on the shower floor, convinced I might not survive it.

Chapter Nine

Haizley

“I am telling you, Haizley, the man is certifiable. Who tells his wife he is sleeping at his accountant’s?”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Mary. It certainly does sound questionable. How did you respond to that?”

Mary Yearwood was a middle-aged woman who had been married for nearly forty years. She was convinced her husband was cheating on her, and after this conversation, I had to admit, I think she might be right.

We spent the entire hour of her appointment discussing ways Mary could communicate with her husband, as well as ways she could be prepared for if her husband was in fact having an affair.

By the end of her session, I was mentally exhausted. That was the downfall of being a therapist. It was emotionally draining, taking on other’s problems and helping them to work through them.

I had three hours until my next appointment. Lunch, maybe some reading, and of course a little housekeeping should fill up that time.

I had just finished my dishes and was wiping my hands on a towel when there was a knock at my door. No one ever knocked at my door. Well, Indie had been over a few times, but she didn’t show up unannounced. So I stood there, staring at the wooden barrier between myself and the person on the other side.

Answer the freaking door, Haizley!

Shaking myself out of my sudden paralysis, I slowly made my way toward the front of my house. I opened the door and stared at the beautiful woman standing on my steps.

“Hi, Can I help you?”

“You’re Haizley Walker, right?” she asked. Her eyes looked haunted, and she had trouble meeting my gaze.

“I am. Are you ok?” I reached out to touch her arm, and she flinched.

“Sorry,” she said when she finally looked up. “My name is Amber Marks. I live at the clubhouse.”

“Did someone hurt you? Do you need help?”

All the guys in the MC seemed nice, if not crude and angsty. I had assumed they wouldn’t hurt women, but maybe I had read them all wrong.

“Yes, I mean no. I mean...” Amber took a deep breath and asked, “Could I come in?”

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