Page 41 of Biker Daddies

I’m stupid for wanting her. Out of all the women I could have, why did my soul choose her?

And the kicker?

I don’t care how mad Grizzly is about it.

This is meant to be. I feel it. She’s the fourth piece in our puzzle.

I run my gloved hand down her leg and notice her panties have a wet spot in the middle of them. Rolling the stool away from her, I have to set the tattoo gun down because I want nothing more than to push her panties to the side and dive my tongue into her wet, virgin hole.

Rolling my neck, I try to calm myself, watching as her lips part and face pinches from the pain of the needle rubbing back and forth over her skin.

Her whimpers turn to a long moan and the wet spot on her panties becomes bigger.

Everyone stops tattooing.

Bane and Colt have lust in their eyes.

“Sweetheart—” I say her nickname in warning as I roll to her again. I snap my gloves off and smooth a hand up her leg, wondering if this is smart.

Her skin is so soft, so fucking smooth and perfect.

“Does the pain of getting a tattoo turn you on?” I ask, my fingers stopping at her panties.

She shakes her head.

“Why are you so wet?” I touch her covered pussy, showing where exactly I’m talking about.

“Because—” She bites her lips into her mouth. “—The three of you are touching me. So close to me. You turn me on. All of you.”

My cock has been hard since I’ve felt her lips against mine.

“You’re killing me.” I rub my finger up and down the damp material of her panties. “You really want this, don’t you? The three of us?”

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

All I want is to part her panties and inhale the sweet scent of her cunt.

“Please,” she begs, spreading her legs further. “I ache.”

I shake my head. “Not yet. Not right now. Your body is going through a lot right now. The tattoos are causing pain and pleasure. We need more time together.” I swallow, the words breaking against my dry throat.

I want nothing more than to push her panties to the side and see her pretty pink pussy glistening for me, but I have to keep it together. This can’t happen too fast. We’ve fallen easily. It feels natural with her, and if we don’t stop and think we will ruin this before it can truly begin.

“Alto, please—” she begs, her nails digging into the seat.

“No. Now, behave, Harlow.”

“Colt?” Her eyes slide from me to my best friend, seeing if she can convince him.

“Oh, sweetness,” he groans, setting down his machine. “Don’t do this to me.”

“Bane?” she whimpers, peering those big, gorgeous eyes at Bane, who stares at her as if she’s a fucking meal.

“Guys,” I warn them, giving a slight shake of my head. “Don’t.”

“Just…so she relaxes for the rest of the tattoos. Right? I mean…” Colt’s hands rub down her leg.

“No.” Now I begin to get a little angry. Do they think I don’t want this? That I’m not dying to please her? I am, but not here and not like this. Not on a tattoo table where our lust is fresh and I’m hanging on by a fucking thread.

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