Page 32 of Jester

However, when I reach for her cheek, just to enjoy a touch, she flinches. Her lovesick gaze turns wary. She rightfully notices my size and how we’re alone in this cottage away from others.

“How much do you love me now?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow.

Talon steps back, looking ready to run. Just as abruptly, she smirks and taunts, “Look at you seeking reassurance. I can’t believe how emotionally needy you are.”

“Prison made me a pussycat,” I say, stepping closer.

Talon backs up until we reach her front door. “Let’s go to breakfast.”

“Where there are witnesses?”

“And waffles and eggs.”

Talon leans down to check her loose laces. When she stands straight, I wrap my hand around her hip and tug her against me.

“Wine and dine,” Talon mumbles before my lips cover hers and silence her complaints.

I was never a gawky teenager stealing kisses with his sweetheart. When I kiss, I just take what I want. Even now, I can’t help sucking at Talon’s tongue, even if she’s only got her mind set on breakfast.

By the time I free her lips, Talon’s gone soft and breathless in my arms.

Weakly shoving me away, she mumbles, “Why do you gotta make me horny when I’m going to see everyone at breakfast?”

“Is that what the look on your face means?” I ask and run my fingers across her jaw. “Is this what horny looks like on you?”

“Horny mixed with hungry, yeah.”

“Well, since you want to be wined and dined before I can fuck you, let’s get you fed,” I say, giving her ass a smack as I walk out to my hog.

Talon gasps before grunting with disapproval. I glance back at her as I reach my bike. She stands on the porch, unleashing her most bitchy glare. I notice her rubbing her ass. Though it’s not really funny, I still chuckle.

“You’re a wuss,” I say, throwing my leg over my hog and getting comfortable.

“I’m slapping your ass later.”

“Sure, but you’re only going to make my dick hard.”

Talon’s rage disappears immediately. She’s back in her horny-chick mode. As my motorcycle roars to life between my legs, my dick twitches at the sight of her strutting toward me. Her lips purse into a pouty snarl.

Talon jumps on her Harley and speeds out without looking back. I follow after her, enjoying the view of her brown hair floating in the air. Her bare shoulders shine in the morning light. She seems different when riding—more powerful like Papa Bear and less delicate like Betty Boop.

For the first time since seeing her in the hospital, I finally accept deep down how Talon survived. For seven years, she’s felt like a ghost. Talon had been all busted up in that hospital bed with machines breathing for her. She stayed that way for so long. A part of me didn’t really believe she ever got better.

But now, watching her ride to HQ, the reality of the situation washes over me. All those questions about the future get very sharp in my mind. I feel different immediately. Talon is no longer a fantasy. She’s healthy and strong. And she wants me.

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