Page 62 of Cocky Jerk

“They are here somewhere but I assure you they’re not needed at the moment,” I say, looking back at my cock. The poor thing looks like it’s going to explode. My eyes slice back to Antonia. “Can you come back here?”

We need you.

Stat.

“The outfit for the party,” she clarifies. “The skirt and the shirt, my boots…it’s at the clubhouse.” Bringing her hands to her head, she threads her fingers roughly through her curls. “I’m such an idiot,” she berates before resuming the pacing.

I’m fucking dizzy just watching her, or maybe that’s not the case at all. Perhaps I’m feeling lightheaded because all my blood is in my groin.

“I was trying to hide the fact I was a byproduct of a criminal from you, I had no intention of getting dressed there or having you pick me up from there so why the hell didn’t I pack my shit?” She freezes mid rant, and it becomes clear my dick isn’t getting any relief anytime soon.

“Oh God.”

What did she forget now? Her comb? Perhaps her birth control.

That last one sobers me up.

I didn’t wear a condom in the shower, something I realized last night, but between then and now I had done a marvelous job of pushing it out of my head.

Sitting up, I lean my back against the headboard and call her name. She snaps out of her meltdown for a second and looks at me.

“Everything I own is at the clubhouse,” she reveals. “Including my bike.”

I was expecting we’d need to have this conversation, I just figured we’d be having it Monday morning when the bubble burst and everyday life resumed.

“Were you not planning on going back?”

As the question leaves my lips, I think about what that would mean. I’m certainly not opposed to the idea, but I’m also very aware of how crazy that sounds. She can’t hide here forever. I may have my opinions about Tank DeLuca, but that’s all they are.

Opinions.

He is her dad and like him or not, he’s part of her life.

“No…yes…I don’t know,” she sighs frustratedly.

Sighing, I throw my legs over the edge of the bed and grab a pair of sweats from the floor. If we are going to have this conversation, it’s best one of us has some fucking clothes on. Pulling the pants up my legs, the elastic band slaps against my abs and I turn to face her.

“You’re freaking out for no reason.”

Her eyes bulge and I amend my sentence.

“Okay, you’re freaking out with good reason, but let’s take a step back and calm down, okay? I’ll take you over there to get what you need.”

“You really think that’s a good idea? You broke Hound’s nose. We won’t make it past the gates.”

That angered me.

Sure, I broke the bastard’s nose, but he deserved it and if Tank heard him say what he said, I think the guy would agree. That’s of course, if he was a levelheaded man who didn’t go to jail for assaulting cops.

She’s right.

We’re fucked.

I’m not about to tell that to Antonia, though.

“Look, your father has a problem with me. He’s cooked up this crazy theory in his head that I’m the enemy without knowing a damn thing about me other than my profession. I don’t like what he does, but he’s your father and instead of writing him off, I’ll give him the courtesy of getting to know me and see my intentions are pure, that I’m more than a badge and a pair of handcuffs.”

Her face softens, and the panic flees her features.

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