Page 186 of S is for SEX

MAKING THE CUT

(Selected Sinners MC Romance Book I)

AVERY

For a woman to accurately determine what a man is really thinking would be similar to a man having a full understanding of what it’s like to go through a menstrual cycle. It’s never going to be completely clear to either party no matter how much a person tries to explain.

“So, let me get this straight. I’m not trying to play with words, or be a smart-ass; I’m really not. But let me see.” I said as I stood from the park bench I forced my hands into the rear pockets of my shorts.

I twisted myself into my best naïve schoolgirl pose just to throw him off a little. The shorts I was wearing were absolutely killing my pussy without any underwear, but they looked hot as fuck. As much as I wanted some relief, I pulled back on the pockets and tried to give him just a little of a show up front. He sat quietly on the park bench and stretched his rubber band to the point of complete failure.

Snap!

Good. Now, if you like it, take it.

I pulled my hands from my pockets and tossed my hair. “So, I’m going to stick by your side and stay quiet. If someone talks to me, I will respond. If they don’t, I stand, smile, and look pretty. If anyone asks if I’m available, I say no, and if they ask if you and I are together, I say no. And if someone asks if I’m your Ol’ Lady, I say hell to the no. Lastly, if anyone fucks with me, I find you or if I can’t find you, I find Otis. So, technically I’m not spoken for, but I’m not available either. Right?”

“You coulda left the last part out, but that’s it. You got it,” he said as he played with the rubber band on his wrist.

I lowered my hands and stuffed them into my rear pockets again.

Holy fuck that’s uncomfortable.

I bent my knees slightly and rocked my hips back and forth. After he snapped the rubber band again, I lifted my right shoe slightly and dug the toe into the dirt, twisting it back and forth as I watched the impression I was leaving in the sandy soil. No one knew better than I did that I didn’t have any tits, but what little I did have was exposed to the world through the opening of my vee neck tee shirt. As I felt the early evening breeze across my nipples, I glanced in his direction. His eyes were fixed on the opening of my shirt.

Get an eyeful, Axton.

“You want to sit the fuck down, you’re making me nervous,” he grunted as he shifted his gaze upward.

As I tilted my head and gave my best duck face, he snapped the rubber band twice.

Good, all that practicing I’ve been doing in front of the mirror worked.

“My legs are cramping. I need to stand,” I lied.

He stood from the park bench and pulled his knife from his pocket. As he raised it to his other hand, he flicked the blade open. Now focusing on his fingernails, he fidgeted with his knife and stopped paying attention to me altogether. Frustrated, I turned away from him and dug the denim out of my sore pussy.

“What are you afraid of, Axton?” I asked over my shoulder as I turned to face him.

He looked up from the half-assed manicure he was performing. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “With us. You and me? What are you afraid of?”

He folded his knife, clipped it to his pocket and lowered his chin slightly. “A lot of motherfuckers will claim it, but only a handful actually mean what they say; I’m one of that handful. I’m not afraid of a God damned thing on this earth.”

“So what’s keeping you from making progress with me?” I asked.

He turned and stared at me as if I were absolutely insane. As he crossed his arms and continued to stare, it was obvious I’d touched on a subject he really wasn’t ready to discuss. The muscles in his biceps pulsated. As soon as he began speaking, the tone of his voice was sterner than before.

“You just don’t get it, do you? I am making progress with you. More than I’ve made with anyone in the last fifteen God damned years. It’ll probably come as no fucking secret, but I fucking hate women. Last I checked, Avery, you’re a woman,” he said as he tilted his head toward the bike.

“I absolutely hate, and I do mean hate having that seat on the fender of my bike. About every ten minutes when you think I’m rubbing my cheek, I’m not. I’m looking over at that God damned lick ‘n stick and wondering if it’s eating through the clear coat on my fender. But I’ve left that motherfucker on there for what seems like a month straight. Do you want to know why?” He rested his hands on his belt and raised both eyebrows while he waited for me to respond.

I was beginning to feel small. I swallowed heavily and nodded. A very inaudible yes puffed from my lips.

“Because I like having you on the back of my bike. I have no fucking idea why, I really don’t, because I hate bitches on the back of my bike. But for some God damned reason, having you back there makes me feel, at least for as long as we’re riding, like I’m normal. Well, Avery, I got a news flash for you. I’m far from normal.”

He snapped the rubber band more times than I could count.

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