He kissed my ear and nibbled on my lobe, and I whimpered as I thrust my hips.
“Come for me, baby. Show me that you’re mine.”
“Paris,” I moaned, and his cock twitched against my thigh, valiantly attempting to get hard again.
“Yes, that’s it. Call me that. Only you can call me Paris.”
I laid my hands on his hips again and rocked my dick into his fist, groaning. The tightness of his fingers was enough to bring me over the edge. My orgasm swept through me faster than a tornado. I stiffened as my release hit me and cum painted PD’s abs.
PD let me go and used a finger to swipe some of my cum before the shower washed it away. He sucked on his digit and groaned. “Yum.”
A shiver raked down my spine. “Fuck, stop it or I’ll get hard again.”
He laughed as he did it again. With a smirk, he turned and let the water wash off the rest. “Come here. Let’s get clean.”
I muttered under my breath but let him manhandle me under the spray. Even though the shower wasn’t big enough, he made it work and took the time to wash me off with a lathered cloth.
When we were done, he even helped to dry me and dropped another kiss on the tip of my nose.
Cute fucker.
Once we were dressed, he led me into the kitchen and pulled out some pain meds, and I hated how well he knew me. I took them when he gave me a glass of water, and he smiled proudly.
“So, who do you think we should work with? We probably can’t do it alone. Six bikers hit that truck.”
I sighed. I was hoping to get the job done with just PD, but I knew he was right. The two of us couldn’t handle six guys, especially with how hurt we both were.
“King and Dallas? They’re reliable and Dallas has been talking about needing money to do more work on their lakeside cabin.”
PD hummed as he opened the middle kitchen drawer and yanked out a sketch pad. He liked to keep one in each room because sometimes he’d get an idea for a tattoo at the most random times.
He dropped the pad on the counter in front of me and began to draw with a pencil. “That could work. Want to give them a call while I sketch these assholes?”
“Sure thing, Paris.” I didn’t miss the shiver that swept through him. Oh yeah. I knew how to get him going. He hated people using his real name, except me now. Maybe being called Paris while he had his hand wrapped around my dick helped.
I smirked. My new theory was going to be tested every time we were doing something fun.
16
PD
Thunder cracked and shook the entire clubhouse. I pursed my lips as Dallas and King stared at the drawings on King’s desk. The lights flickered but stayed on. King reached out to rub Dallas’s back, which was sweet, but other than that, everyone was concentrating.
Thinking.
You could practically smell the smoke in the air from all the cogs turning in our brains. Dallas had memorized a lot of info about the bike clubs in this area, and King knew even more than he did.
“We shouldn’t be this fucking stumped.” King dragged a pack of cigarettes close, then pulled one out. He stuck it between his lips but didn’t light it.
“Wishing now I hadn’t kept to our club so much,” I grumbled. “I don’t really know what anyone else is up to besides our guys.”
King shrugged, and with a sigh, Dallas dragged out a lighter and lit King’s cigarette. He hummed out a grateful sound as he took a puff. “Well, there’s the Demons, mainly.” Smoke billowed out of his mouth along with the words. “But there are a few othersmaller crews riding in the area. Not clubs, just guys who go out together. We’ve had a lot of them through the club at one point or another. Usually good guys or at least good-time guys.” He grinned at me over his shoulder, then went back to staring at my sketches.
I paced because those images had come out of my brain.
“Add in the people who only haul their bikes out to go putz around the lake on sunny days, there’s probably thousands of people who ride in the area.” Will kicked the side of King’s desk.
“Yeah, but these weren’t guys who take their old ladies out to go bird watching on the shore.” King puffed away at his cigarette and a sinking silence settled over us.
