Page 52 of Biker's Tribute: Property of Bear

"You feel so good," I whisper, nibbling on her neck. "I love giving my wife all this dick..."

She scoots her hips forward so much she nearly falls off the table. I clutch Anna's ass cheeks and yield to my urges, thrusting every last inch inside her...

* * *

Nineteen

Ethan

Ihaven't been on a date in years and first dates would normally make me nervous, but Amanda is the easiest woman to talk to. She doesn't mind when I get quiet. She doesn't ask too many questions. She's smart and funny. She makes me laugh. Women don't make me laugh. I've had to play peacemaker between my brother Owen and his baby mama Kaylee-Marie a few times and handling that woman was like dry-swallowing a boulder.

Amanda is different. She complains about not having date clothes - and complains about me calling it a date - but she can't hide that smile on her face when she thinks I'm not looking. I find the best steakhouse I can. Folks out here know good food, which is how they get so damn big. Tonight, I need to eat, so I don't mind.

Amanda sits across from me with her pretty hair falling across her face as she examines the menu.

"You better eat tonight," I tell her.

"Boy, bye. I'm starving. You're the one who barely eats."

"That'll change in Missouri, since you're gonna cook for me every night."

"Excuse me?" Amanda says, raising her eyebrows. "Is that what you're dragging me out to your lair for? Cooking and... the other thing."

I smirk. "Don't get too excited."

"I was not excited."

"You were," I whisper. "I think you like all the places I put my tongue."

Amanda glares at me as the waitress materializes and we order. I watch Amanda order, the way her lips move and how fucking graceful she is with how she moves and talks. I'm getting a crush on my therapist.

A crush that stops me from thinking about gambling for the longest streak I've ever experienced.

We don't talk about the normal first date stuff, which is a damn relief. I ask her about her past, because I'm curious. She tries to dodge the question by saying therapists don't divulge that information to their clients. But I work the information out of her.

Born in Chicago. Parents were decent, tried to provide for her, but ended up disagreeing with Amanda's choice to go to graduate school instead of settling down with someone from church.

Her parents left Chicago and moved down South to Atlanta, but she has no interest in Atlanta -- mostly because of the traffic.

She's all alone in Boston now, except for her business partner and best friend, Mallory. No boyfriend. No kids.

"What about you?" she asks. "You seem... I guess like a mama's boy."

I laugh. "No. Not quite. I love her, but... I'm just her oldest fuck up."

Amanda's face looks sad. "How are you a screw up? Aren't the other men in your family dangerous criminals?"

"And gamblers," I say. "But I'm the worst of both."

"It's never too late to change," she says with a warm smile on her face.

She grounds me with that expression. And I just want to be closer to her.

"Maybe."

"Why Missouri?" she asks.

"Where I have a house," I answer.

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