Page 110 of Playboy’s Purgatory

“I love you, Jettson.”

His mouth descends and we’re both lost to the heat between us, to the need. To the love. The only time he seems to control himself is when he gently places the crumble on a shelf along the other wall. Hopefully, it’ll be safe there.

But I hardly get to worry about it as Jettson bends me over his desk and yanks the maxi dress I’m wearing up and over my ass. The sound of my panties being ripped from my body has my thighs clenching together while I get even wetter.

For him.

Always for him.

The broad crown of his cock slides up and down my slit. He finds my entrance and pushes just the head inside.

My back arches, but his hand wraps around my shoulder and holds me in place. I want him deep inside me; I need to feel it. I’m panting and moaning while my body strains to entice him.

“Again.”

“I love you, Jettson.”

His hips thrust forward and he fills me completely. I moan his name as my head snaps up and my hair flies through the air.

“I already know your sweet pussy is going to make me cum too fast,” he groans. “I’m too close to the edge.”

I’m barely able to pant out, “Because I said I love you.”

Something flips in my biker. He starts to pound into me hard and fast. His pace is relentless as he keeps me right where he wants me.

I give myself over to him and enjoy the ride. When we come together, my body goes boneless and my eyes roll back in my head.

He leans over my back, a promise in his voice, “Next, I’ll get you to agree to move in with me, Cupcake.”

“We’ll see,” I barely get the words out, the pleasure coursing through me making me feel weightless and carefree.

His low chuckle brushes against my skin. “I love you, Lara,” reverence fills his words and my heart steadies.

He doesn’t know it yet, but now that he’s walked out of purgatory and found redemption, I’ve already decided we’re moving in.

Jettson calls me his. And I know he’s mine.

EPILOGUE

SIX MONTHS LATER

LARA

Jettson holds up a set of keys, but the door isn’t locked when he turns the handle and lets the door swing open. I love this house. My house. Because this is the place I want to be. With him. With Vanessa.

I want this family, the messy, chaotic biker family which is almost too big for this small town but wouldn’t make sense anywhere else. They know how to love big and protect their own. They know what matters when the days are long and the years feel too short.

They don’t take themselves too seriously, but they don’t tolerate disrespect. Defending yourself and others doesn’t have to be pretty. No one expects it to be.

I’ve never found a home like this, not one I wanted to fight for. I grew up in a house where I was willing to fight to flee. But then I had to stay because Vanessa deserved a home that I wasn’t even sure I could give her.

The house isn’t just done, it’s completely furnished and mostly decorated. You can’t fucking miss it the moment you step inside. As if that isn’t shocking enough, considering I didn’t know it was happening, it’s furnished with things I’ve been eyeing and loving for months.

Everything is exactly how I would do it.

“How did you do this?”

“What?” Jettson teases me and I look over at him and glare. “Oh,” he exclaims, “you’re talking about the furniture and everything being ready for you to move your stuff into it?”