Page 37 of Biker's Tribute: Property of Bear

“Don’t do that.Don’t remind me that I’m a doctor who will never practice again if I even get to have a life of my own after you’re done with me.”

“It’s a problem to look after your safety now?”

“It’s been a problem,” she says. “I have never told you I’m okay with this.”

Fair point. I’m nice and wet, and in the mood to distract her from being miserable about a situation that she can’t change. I won’t let her out of my sight and risk losing her. I’ve lost enough people and… she has no one else looking after her. That hasn’t escaped me. I grab a bar of soap, lather up and start washing my dick.

“Really?” She mutters, looking at her hands.

“I’m getting clean.”

“Good for you, Ethan.”

My dick jumps when she says my name. She has such a hot voice and it’s also hot how hard she makes me work for her attention.

“I like when you say my name.”

Distractedly, I keep stroking my cock. Amanda sighs.

“You would finish a lot faster if you stopped touching yourself.”

“Finish what?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter Ethan.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll make you talk about your childhood trauma,” she says threateningly. “Psychoanalyze you. Force you to feel human emotions.”

I laugh, because none of those weapons scare me. I faced my worst fear the day I found out about dad. The day I put my father in the ground. He taught me everything I know about being a man and we were best friends. Even closer than me and mom, although we were still pretty close. The eldest child has a special relationship with their parents.

I saw them through the worst times and the best times in their relationship. Wyatt’s birth. Then Owen.

“I’m not afraid of feelings.”

“Then why aren’t you married?”

“Who says I’m not married?”

“If you were, I think your wife would be the one watching you wash your dick,” she says. “If you have all that time to gamble, I doubt you have time to cheat.”

“You’re the therapist. Whatever you say.”

I clean the rest of my body in silence. She stopped protesting and casting her gaze away from my naked body. I let her watch as I get clean. Amanda’s gaze snaps away when I turn the water off. She resumes her impatient, frustrated posture with me.

“Towel.”

I gesture behind her towards fluffy white towels. She tosses one at me with hateful force. Ηer angry throw doesn’t bug me. I catch it and grin.

“I played football in high school and a little in college,” I tell her.

“Great,” she says, grumpy, or at least even more tense now that I’m done with my shower.

“Come on, doc. Your turn.”

“Okay,” she says, getting up with a little smirk on her face. “But you haven’t fooled me for a second. You just artfully dodged talking about your feelings. They do make you uncomfortable, which means as long as you keep playing this little game with me, they’re going to influence you in ways that you don’t even realize.”

“Is that so?”

---