Page 52 of Outlaws of Tulsa

Over my dead body.

Problem is, I think Magna might go to those lengths to get me—to get back at me. Surely by now he’ll have assumed I traded sides. Technically, I have. Koyn may have kidnapped me, but it’s not like I haven’t settled right into this cushy life. It’s not a hardship. His club is way better than Magna’s ever was. Magna is possessive and wild. I know him. If he catches wind I’m here, he’ll come for me. Not like some valiant hero to save his son’s girlfriend, but more of a petulant child who wants his toy back.

I’m a toy.

It was only a matter of time and I would have been.

His.

Magna made me suck his dick.

I hated it. And had we had more time, he would’ve probably forced me to do more shit. I loved Junior, but not Magna. Magna is a violent psychopath. If he ever gets his claws in me, I’ll never get free.

“Excuse me, princess,” Bermuda says, patting my ass as he reaches to grab a hunting knife off the counter.

I feel a hard stare on me.

Ahh, so he’s done ignoring me.

If all it took was for Bermuda to flirt with me, I would’ve taken this route days ago. Ignoring Koyn’s hot glare, I turn to regard Bermuda. They’re all decked out in camo as they get ready to hunt. Stormy and I are to stay back, heating up the casseroles Bermuda prepared and to watch the turkey. Bermuda looks the most like a country boy in his getup. I slide my arms around his neck and stand on my toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Good luck, Bermuda.”

He’s frozen in my embrace, his pink lips parted in surprise. If I didn’t think Koyn would kill him for it, I would kiss his lips. But Koyn is like Dragon. It’s unwise to taunt. A little poking is fun, though.

“You gonna catch me a deer?” I ask sweetly, grinning at him.

His hands go to my ass again. “Kill, PG. I’m gonna kill you a deer.”

“Brutal.”

He grins. “We’re savages.”

Before I can utter another word, I’m yanked forcefully from him. I let out a screech as someone big and strong drags me away. Koyn. I stop fighting it and relax as he carries me down the hallway and into a powder room.

A big Man Mansion filled with badass bikers and they have a powder room.

They’re fucking confusing, that’s what.

He flips on the light and pushes me against the sink so I’m forced to look in the mirror. I’m wearing a white dress Stormy loaned me. A short, poufy skirt, but the bodice part fits like a corset, forcing my tits up and out. It’s the most pageant thing I’ve worn since I’ve run away. I love it.

Behind me, Koyn looks like the devil. He may not be wearing his cut, but he’s dressed in dark green camouflage and wears a black beanie on his head. The scars on his face are more prominent without his tousled hair distracting me. He presses his body against mine, pinning me to the sink. Then, with the gentlest of touches, he skims his palms down my bare shoulders and down my arms. His nose buries itself in my hair and he inhales me.

“You’re not Bermuda’s.” His gruff words send a chill down my spine.

“I’m not anyone’s.”

“You’re mine.”

“Am I?”

Our eyes meet in the mirror. His are dark and cruel and possessive. “You are.”

My bottom lip trembles and I bite down on it, fighting tears. “Then why do you always act like what happens between us never happened. I can’t forget what you do to me, but you always do.”

“I never forget,” he murmurs, cupping my tits over my dress. “Ever.”

“Then why won’t you fuck me?” I yell, hating that tears are welling in my eyes. I spent way too much time on my makeup for it to get ruined. “I’m old enough where it counts.”

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