She lifted up, looking down at me with a twinkle in her eye and a smile tugging at her lips.
“I still can’t believe you were willing to ride bitch.”
“Baby,” I said, tucking her hair behind her ear as it fell to curtain us, “I’ll willingly be behind you any fucking time you want.”
That got a big smile out of her. It was the kind that crinkled her eyes.
“Good to know,” she said, sliding back onto my lap, then slowly getting to her feet.
Sure enough, dust went everywhere.
And we both laughed as we got back into our clothes and dusted ourselves off the best we could. But we were both wearing black, and the damn stuff was stuck in the fibers of our clothes. It was hopeless.
But we didn’t seem to care as we got back on the bike and rode to the hotel.
When we realized Sugar had been kidnapped by Syn to hang out in his room, Dylan turned back to me, a wicked gleam in her eye.
“What’s that look for?”
She reached out, grabbing a handful of my shirt, and tugged me back toward the bathroom with her.
“We got this dirty together. Let’s get cleaned up together too.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dylan
The next two days were a bit of a blur.
The only things that really stood out were bringing the sweet, neglected Rotties all the food they needed… and jumping Colter any chance I got.
Really, I almost felt bad for the guy.
Over a year of sexual frustration was being taken out on him in a forty-eight-hour period. But I had to give Colter credit; it didn’t matter how many times I was aching for it, he rallied and got the job done.
And that meant that I was swimming in an orgasm high pretty much nonstop.
“What would you do if you did something else?” Colter asked, sitting beside me on a picnic table with the red paint flecked off, both of us careful where we put our hands because the wood was splintered in spots.
“What do you mean?” I asked, watching the side of his almost annoyingly handsome face. And that beard. God, that beard was practically a sex toy all its own. Just the memory of it brushing the skin of my inner thighs had desire starting to ratchet up again.
“If you didn’t run a club, what do you think you would do?” he asked, tossing the ball and making Sugar bolt after it.
That was actually a question I’d asked myself a lot. Over the past year, sure, when I wasn’t sure if I’d get my club back. But more so over the past few days. After I’d finally admitted aloud something I’d been harboring in my heart for a while. That maybe I didn’t want the club life anymore.
“Well, I was never someone who loved school. So going back to get a degree is kind of out of the question,” I said as Sugar came trotting back to drop the ball into Colter’s hand.
“No one says you gotta have a degree. Plenty of shit to do without one.” He sent the ball sailing again.
“She likes playing with you. I can’t throw it anywhere near that far,” I admitted. “I don’t know… maybe it’s silly…”
“I’m sure it’s not,” he said, looking over at me with such sincerity in his eyes that I immediately wanted to believe him.
He looked at me like that a lot.
Like he saw me.
Got me.
