Page 42 of Biker's Tribute: Property of Bear

"No," she says. "But you didn't take out any clothing for yourself."

I grunt and pull out a pair of black sweatpants with a stain on them that I don't want to overthink.

"No shirt?"

"I don't sleep in a shirt. Normally."

She sighs. "You aren't putting your hands on me, Ethan. I let you stare, but that's about it. You aren't interested in black women and..."

She trails off, failing to hide her gaze darting down to my dick print and back up to my eyes. It's the slightest tell that you could only hide from someone in their early twenties and inexperienced in the forces of attraction that pull people together.

Her lips deny it, but Amanda's gaze and her body can't help her reaction to me. It'll get even worse when I have my tongue between her legs.

"And?" I ask her, pretending to play along with her, knowing damn well it'll be a matter of minutes before I'm tasting her pussy lips.

"I have no interest in you whatsoever."

"You don't need interest in me to cum."

She glares at me again. Her face is so sexy when she's angry, but I can't break character and smile right now without her losing her mind.

"Sorry..." I mutter. "I forgot. Two weeks."

"Yes. Two weeks."

"And there are no loopholes."

She turns away from me to dress in the clothes I picked out for her. For a woman who is supposed to have total insight into the human mind, she doesn't realize something that no gambler would miss. A tell.

When she's nervous. When Amanda doesn't want to face some deep emotion buried within her, she can't look at me.

Encouraged by her reluctance, I continue talking, convinced I can seize control. "For example... we can't have sex for two weeks and there's no loophole in your little contract about a man spreading your legs open and buttering up your pussy lips with his tongue."

She turns around suddenly, with her arms crossed over her chest. She barely had enough time to get the t-shirt pulled down before I stun her with my comment, which suits me just fine.

"That is downright insane, Ethan."

I find her word choice fascinating.

Insane?

* * *

Fifteen

Amanda

Ethan doesn't stop staring at me with brutal, penetrating eyes. I have to meet his gaze because it's the only source of power I have between the two of us now. Whatever weaknesses I work out about his psyche are useless to me in the bedroom where he's keeping me now. He wants to quit gambling and if I can hack into that part of his brain wired for pleasure... I have a shot at controlling him. But it's just a shot.

"My back's against the wall," he says. "Only natural for me to look for a loophole."

"I suspect you will survive without putting your tongue... you know where."

"Some women might be curious."

"About what?"

I'm wasting time talking to this man. I should be looking for a baseball bat and making an excuse to access the internet so I can research how the fuck you can get away with clubbing a man twice your size. Rational thought has left the chat. It's just me and Ethan, standing in a bedroom, dancing around his obvious attraction to me.

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