Page 67 of Filthy Sinner

“I know you’re sleepy,” I chided. “But do you want a UTI?”

MaryCat tensed. “No. Why would I get one?”

Jesus.

I was going to have to teach her everything.

For a second, I felt the burden of that, but then I thought about last night. How she’d followed my lead like the fucking trooper I knew she was, and how, with every kiss and caress, I could mold her into what I needed…

The control freak in me liked that way too much.

I’d never wanted a virgin. Never thought I’d get one with how I lived my life, so it hadn’t been a problem. Yet here I was. An ex-virgin as a wife.

Shaking my head at the thought, I muttered, “You’re supposed to pee after sex.”

“Why?”

I huffed. “Because.”

“Because?”

“Didn’t you do any research?”

“No.” She sounded more awake, at least. “Why would I?”

“Because it’s the 21st century?”

“And I couldn’t have sex without my boyfriend being killed,” she drawled, shoving at my shoulder. “I figured it was best to steer clear of temptation.”

“You didn’t watch porn?”

“Yes, but I mostly used my imagination,” was her prim retort, which swiftly turned mocking.“I’m a good Catholic girl, don’t you know?”

“Well, that must have been boring.”

She sniffed, but the effect was spoiled as she kissed my shoulder and, with a tenderness that got to me, gently massaged it. Much as she’d done yesterday.

Fuck, her fingers were like magic.

“Itwasboring,” she concurred. “After a while. That was when I turned to Twitter. It made it worse and gave me repetitive strain injury.”

I grinned. “I’ll bet.”

“Don’t tease.”

I shrugged as I stepped into the shower booth. “It’s funny. I’m gonna have to teach you everything and it’s not like I’m the fucking encyclopedia on this shit. I guess you could talk to the clubwhores—”

“The clubwhat?” MaryCat squeaked. Then, she sobered. “Oh. They’re actually real? Women do that? For rent? I thought it was a fictitious device.”

I blinked at that. “A fictitious device?”

She wafted a hand. “Never mind. Women genuinely sleep with guys in the MC to pay rent?”

“They do.”

She pulled a face. “That’s kind of sad.”

I’d expected a bitchy retort. “Why is it? If it’s what they want to do?”

---