Page 55 of The First Cut

“I’m not picky. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

I reach for her and haul her back to me before pinning her on the bed. “What do you want to eat?”

She looks at me with wide eyes, biting that fucking lip of hers that has my cock thickening once more. If she carries on, I’m going to spend the next week permanently inside her.

“Something fresh. A salad, maybe?” she asks hesitantly.

“Anything you don’t like on your salad?” She shakes her head. “Good, I’ll figure something out. You get comfortable and find us something to watch.”

“Okay.”

I kiss her hard because her mouth is right fucking there. She hisses as I nip her lip before licking the sting away. With a groan, I tear myself free and climb off the bed, knowing if I don’t put some distance between us now, I never will.

Grabbing my cell, I stalk outside, slamming the door behind me. I head to the reception desk, where the geeky teenager from this morning has been replaced by a woman who looks like a soccer mom with two kids and an accountant husband at home.

“Hello, can I help you with anything?” I don’t miss the heated stare she gives me or the way she bites her lip. Funny how when Lola does it, it can bring me to my knees, but now, it does fuck-all for me.

“You got places around here where I can order food?”

“Of course. What exactly do you fancy?” She leans forward and crosses her arms, pushing her tits up.

“A salad.”

She looks surprised by that but doesn’t comment on it. “The only place I can think of locally is Subway.”

“That will work. Where is it?”

“About a mile down the road, if you take a left out of here and a right when you reach the crossing. I can show you if you’d like. I can get someone else to watch the desk.”

“You that desperate you need to throw yourself on a silver platter for any old biker that comes through?”

She jolts back, her cheeks stained crimson. I drop my mask and let a little of the demon inside me poke through. Her face turns pale at the coldness in my eyes and the menace that radiates from me.

“You disrespect my old lady, offering yourself to me like you’re something off the room service menu.” I turn and leave before I do something she’ll regret. Fuck knows I won’t. I have no problem putting bitches in their place.

Walking over to the truck, I climb in and drive to Subway, ordering a couple of fully-loaded salads, subs, a bag of cookies, and a selection of drinks. I shove it onto the passenger seat before heading back. It isn’t until I climb out that I realize I forgot to take off my cut.

“Motherfucker.” No cuts in cages is one of the first rules you’re taught as a prospect. I’m so used to riding my bike I forgot all about it.

Shaking my head, I grab the food and lock up before heading back to our room. I bang the door with my fist and wait as Lola peeks her head out the window. Seeing that it’s me, she opens the door and lets me through before closing and locking it behind me.

“I got a selection of shit from Subway. It’s nothing fancy, but their salads aren’t too bad.”

I lay everything out on the table, thankful the server remembered to shove some wooden utensils into the bag.

“This looks great. Thank you.”

“Gotta eat, right?” I shrug, handing her one of the salad bowls and a fork.

She sits on the end of the bed and digs in. I take one of the chairs and start with a turkey sub. She groans in satisfaction, making me pause for a minute and take in the look of rapture on her face as her eyes slip closed and she takes another forkful.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Her eyes snap open and take me in, tensing as she sees me gripping the arm of the chair. “What’s wrong?”

“You always make those noises when you eat?” I snarl.

She puts the bowl down on the bed, her head bowed. “Sorry,” she whispers.