He led her to her car with a gentle hand on the small of her back. It was in such opposition to the man who grabbed her throat and smashed his lips into hers.
Carys stood mutely as he took the keys from her hand to unlock her door.
“That’s me.” He pointed to a totally blacked-out bike that matched him perfectly. Of course, that one was his. “Follow me to the clubhouse.”
Clubhouse? His pronouncement sent a surge of panic up her spine. It was one thing to go to a private residence with an agenda—it was quite another to go to an MC clubhouse with one. The fact that she’d abandoned her dad’s plan would be irrelevant. Intent was everything.
If her father realized she’d gained access to the clubhouse, she would never get out from under his thumb. He’d use her and use her until there was nothing left. Somehow, she knew that to be a fact, even though he’d never said as much to her face.
“We’re not going to your place?”
“It is my place, Pixie. Plus,” he cupped her ass and ground his erection into her, above where she wanted it, needed it. “We can be there in five minutes.”
God, she wanted this man. But she didn’t want it attached to her father; however, that ship had sailed. What she could do, she reasoned with herself, was convince him to take her to his place, then sneak out with no snooping, no nothing, then convince her dad she couldn’t get close at all and force him to come up with another plan.
Then, in a week or two, she could pop back up. That’s what she’d do. She’d keep her dad’s wishes and her desires separate until after he gave her the cure for her mom, then tell him to fuck off.
It wasn’t like he’d ever been a real father to her. Hell, she didn’t even know who he was until her mother got sick.
That’s how she found herself torn in two between what she wanted to do and what she needed to do.
“Pixie?”
Monster’s voice sounded concerned.
“Sorry, I was just thinking about this,” she proclaimed as she dropped to her knees in the parking lot.
Looking up into his blue eyes as she rubbed her hand up his muscular thighs was the naughtiest thing she’d ever done.
Dropping her eyes, she followed the path of her questing hands until one rested on the bulge in his jeans. When she shifted her eyes upward again, he raised an eyebrow in challenge. He’d expected her to back down. She’d be damned if she would.
Carys had never done anything like this before. Public sexual activity was so far out of her wheelhouse, she couldn’t even see it from her comfort zip code. But there she was, on her knees in a well-lit parking lot, about to blow a man she’d only met moments earlier.
“So, are you going to suck me off now, or are you just trying to heighten the anticipation for later? Because I’ve gotta say, my vote is for my cock bruising the back of your throat right fucking now, Pixie.”
Pixie?
He stroked her cheek with a tenderness that wasn’t aligned with his vulgar words. As she lowered his zipper, the sound seemed to ricochet off the surrounding cars.
When she got the first look at his cock, she licked her lips at the sight. She could only describe it as, just … holy moly.
There was ink everywhere, up his shaft to the head and up along his pelvis, and higher. It appeared to be one continuous work of art from what she could see. Although she couldn’t tell exactly what it was in the dim light of the parking lot.
“Now or later?” He asked as he stroked his shaft slowly, bumping the head gently into her lips.
“What?” Her brain wasn’t working, so she couldn’t even guess at what he was talking about.
“Now?” He rubbed the head along her lips. A salty wetness glossing them. “Or later?” He pulled back slightly.
An involuntary whimper left her at his retreat.
“Oh, now.” She breathed desperately. Snaking her tongue out to lick her lips.
The groan that left him shot straight to her clit.
Carys didn’t immediately understand her inexplicable attraction to the man. She had a suspicion though.
She was desperate for him in a way she had never experienced before, even with her ex-fiancée, whom she’d been in love with since the eighth grade. Until he became controlling.
