Page 57 of Pieces of Heaven

Xenia looks up from her phone when I enter. Her long hair is tied up in a bouncy ponytail. Her tank top reveals tanned flesh and a little cleavage. Though my dick twitches at the sight of her, I steel my heart to her impending temper.

Instead, Xenia only smiles and says, “I knew you’d come.”

I can’t help rolling my eyes. Her pathetic devotion even inspires me to step back.

“I’m late.”

“I got the feeling you might make me stew a little before you showed up. Just so I’d recognize how you’re a wild man who refuses to be tamed,” she explains while grabbing her backpack. “Honestly, I figured you’d be later than this.”

My temper flares. Xenia’s lived the safe life of a doormat. Her past likely would suffocate me, yet she willingly chose to follow along like a sheep. Now, she dares to think she understands how I tick.

Her joyful expression throws cold water on my rising anger. The first time I saw her, she seemed defeated. Now, she can barely contain her excitement over what happens next.

I did that for her.It’s weird how she wants me this much. Wrong, maybe. A woman like Xenia doesn’t belong on the back of my hog or in my bed.

“I’m going to the salon on Thursday with the biker-connected women,” she says and sets the shop’s security code. “I might get cleaned up for our date.”

“What date?” I mutter while following her outside as she locks up.

“Don’t you remember how you’re meeting me at the Pigsty on Friday to protect my fragile eyes from Walla Walla’s naked antics?”

I open my mouth to give her grief. Pushing back feels like the right move.

Before I say anything I’ll regret, Xenia’s fingers brush over my furrowed brow, down my cheek, and across my lips. “How do you stay so buff when you don’t eat?”

“I eat plenty.”

“Prove it by pigging out on the food I made,” she says and tugs at my shirt.

I know what she wants. Xenia also gets how I won’t give it to her immediately. I can’t have anyone pulling at my leash. Even Ruin knows I have my limits.

Xenia must know, too. She waits patiently for my need to kiss her to overwhelm my urge to be free.

Wrapping her in my arms, I sink into her familiar flavor. Her body pressed against mine feels like the comfort I’ve searched for all my life. My fingers slide across her hips and down her plump ass.

Xenia makes a startled “humph” sound when I give her cheeks a squeeze, but her lips never leave mine. In fact, the former dull doormat just goes ahead and gives my ass a squeeze, too.

Chuckling at her brazen move, I’m forced to tug my lips free. Xenia watches me, flushed and unsatisfied. A little part of me—well, not little since my erection is ready to tear free of my jeans—considers skipping the picnic and heading to my room at the Pigsty. I’ve never wanted a woman like I do Xenia, and fucking would clear my head.

In a pained voice, I demand, “Tell me you want to see the turtles.”

“I want to see you, Hobo,” she says in a heated tone. “The turtles are a happy extra.”

Her unguarded feelings for me rip away my ability to think straight. “I don’t know the answer.”

“I’m not even sure what the question is,” she says, gripping my shirt as if afraid I’ll run away.

Exhaling heavily as I try to think with my upstairs brain, I mutter, “You’re not a virgin.”

“No.”

“But have you been fucked well?”

“No. Or maybe they did a good job and I’m just frigid.”

Stepping back, I shake my head. “I just fuck, Xenia. None of that fancy Don Juan stuff.”

A flustered Xenia reaches out for me. “I’m not sure what stuff you mean, but I want to be with you.”

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