I pull away and sit back. “I’m sorry I ruined your Jeep.”
Jester shrugs one shoulder. “Your artwork gives it character.”
I roll my eyes. “Only you would think so.”
His brows go up in question. “Would you rather I be mad?”
I shake my head. “No, but you do realize you’re psychotic, right?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.” He grabs my shirt and drags me in close. “Kiss me, because trust and believe my day was way worse than yours, and I need you to make it better.”
He hasn’t told me about his yet, but he promised me he would. Later. He said it wasnauseating. Yep. That was his exact word. Since I was upset when I got home, he let me rant first. Then we put on the movie. Now I’m in his arms, and well, I’d rather do other things than compare the shitty events of our day.
“No,” I protest as I swat away his hands.
His expression darkens. “Why not?”
I give him a devious grin. “Because you need to kiss me.”
“Oh, snap. That’s right. It’s my turn.” His devious grin sends a flood of warmth to my womb. “Not a problem, Fizzle.”
Jester snakes an arm around my waist and hauls me against his body. My breath hitches as he teases me with feathery kisses over my face and neck. When he gets to my ear, his lips tickle the delicate shell. A shudder runs through me because, my God, this man. “Question is, where do you want to be kissed, Fizzle?”
Dear Lord.
“Everywhere, Jester. Please. Kiss me everywhere.”
His lips brush over mine. “How can I say no when you beg so sweetly?”
My day began rotten, but by the time Jester’s done with me, I’m sipping on a juice box, positive I’ll have a limp tomorrow.
But so will he because I rode this man like it was my job.
I hope Jester didn’t think he was going to have all the fun. Sometimes, a woman needs to exert some energy to work out her inner demons.
I can proudly say I snatched the soul from his body. And as I drift off to sleep, I listen to his soft snores with a terrifying thought that follows me into my dreams.
I’m falling in love with Jester all over again.
No, that’s not right.
I’ve never stopped loving him.
Oh, God.
My poor heart is doomed.
17
Jester
“Dude, you’re glowing.” Discord’s announcement is more of an accusation as I pull off my helmet.
We’ve been riding long enough that the July fourth sun is at its peak. With Sanctum stretched out behind us, the whine of the dirt bike engines drowns out the sounds of the Unholy’s annual Independence Day barbecue coming from the courtyard. I glance to the left and see Faith with the Tribe. We’re under strict orders from Jamie to refer to the women, collectively, by that name, and there’s no way in hell I’m going against a pregnant woman. For someone as talky as me, I can’t seem to find the words to describe how pretty Faith looks with her hair pulled up in a ponytail.
Even at this distance, I can see the sharp angles of her face when she turns her head. Her movements are animated as she talks to the women. It’s so fucking awesome how they welcomed her. Not that I doubted they would. I mean, she’s Mayhem. This is her home. We’re her people. Of course, she’d slide right in and find her place. How could she not? This is where she belongs.
And now here I am, watching her all hot and bothered at the way the dainty red-and-white sundress hugs the delicate curves of her body. Maybe it’s because I’m best friends with her breasts. And don’t get me started on the sweet taste of her pussy, because thinking about it will make me jiz right here, right now, in my riding pants, and trust and believe my friends will never let me live it down.
