Page 255 of Outlaws of Tulsa

“Prez doesn’t rough it. Ever.” Dragon smirks before peeling off his shirt to reveal his smooth, tattooed, muscular skin. “He’s…what does Stormy call it? Bougie?”

Prez and bougie in the same sentence is almost laughable.

Yet, here we are, in a fucking suite that’s nicer than any hotel I’ve ever stayed in.

“We’ll get it dirty,” I complain, gesturing at his still-bloody jeans. “Especially you.”

“Damn straight.”

“Shower,” I mutter. “I’m not doing shit until you get cleaned up.”

Dragon shrugs and then peels out of his boots and clothes. He saunters away, the muscles on his fine ass flexing as he walks. The spray of the shower can be heard through the door, so I quickly get naked too.

By the time I reach the shower, he’s already soaping up. I join him beneath the spray, eager to wash the day’s travel off me. Dragon, once he’s cleaned himself off, sets to washing me. There’s something intimate and oddly soothing about the wayhe’s taking care of me right now. I know this thing between us is just an itch that needs scratching, but when he does stuff like this, it’s easy to forget how much he annoys me.

I like it.

I like him.

I like the way he makes me feel when I’m with him.

Valued. Wanted. Craved. Needed.

Still soapy, he seizes my ass cheek in his powerful grip and pulls me to him. My arms snake up around his neck on instinct. His hips are rough as he grinds his erection into mine, crowding me against the shower wall that sends icy shivers down my spine.

“You can’t fuck me in here,” I murmur, tilting my head back.

His lips on my neck part and a chuckle comes out, dark and devious. “I can do whatever I want.”

“We don’t have lube.”

“I’ll improvise.”

That should terrify me, not get my blood pumping hotter, faster, furiously.

“Soap?”

“No, my little masochist. Soap will burn like a motherfucker.”

“Spit? Water?”

“No. Grab that bottle over there.”

Conditioner.

Lovely. I’m going to have conditioner up my ass.

Yet, I reach over and retrieve the bottle for him anyway. Apparently, getting dicked by a psychopath with a bottle of hotel conditioner will suffice for me.

“Bend over and let me see your hole.”

God, he’s so damn filthy.

“Freak,” I mutter but obey him nonetheless.

His palm strikes my ass cheek. “You’re a freak too, baby.”

Baby.

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