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CHAPTER NINETEEN

DAKOTA

Bullet doesn’t give me the chance to ask him what he’s doing. Instead, his mouth is on mine again—consuming me. All of me. I want him inside of me right this second. My whole brain shuts down—again. I honestly don’t even know why I have a working brain at this point.

There is no purpose for it at all. Especially if I’m going to continue to just melt into a pile of goo every single time this man is near me.

And I am because it’s what I do.

Every damn time.

His hands reach for my shirt, and he tugs it out of my shorts before that hand is down my pants. I think about fighting him off. I know I should tell him no, but every part of me is screaming yes.

Yes.

Yes .

Two of his fingers slide through my folds, swirling my clit before they dip inside of me. I’m still sore from the last time I was with him, and the time before, and the time before. I’ve never had this much sex ever in my whole life, and that means combined and totaled up completely.

That’s how into this man I am.

I need to pack my bags and get the hell out of here before I get in another fight with that woman who thinks she's got some sort of claim on him. She doesn’t, and I shouldn’t even care. I should have walked away from her the moment she started talking to me, but this man riles me up like nothing and nobody ever has before.

He curls his fingers inside of me, working them in a come-hither motion, his thumb finding my clit and making firm circles. My eyes slide closed as he continues his ministrations. I open my mouth, letting out a heavy sigh as my hips jerk, then roll, and they continue to roll as my body instinctually searches for release.

I know that this is the man who can give me that, who can make my body scream with a deliciously perfect release. His other hand wraps around the front of my throat, his palm against the center, his fingers curled around the side, and I whimper as I bite down on my lip as my body climbs higher and higher.

“Please,” I whisper.

He growls but doesn’t speed up or apply any more pressure. He stays exactly as is. Then his thumb moves from my clit and he replaces it with his palm. God. Perfection.

“Say my name,” he murmurs.

“Bullet,” I exhale.

He snorts. “Say my fucking name, Dakota.”

I’m so close that my body aches. No, it freaking hurts. I need to come. It’s not a want right now. It’s a need, and only this man with his hands between my legs can make that happen. So when he demands that I say his fucking name, I say his fucking name.

My eyes meet his, and with all the determination I have left in my whole physically exhausted and aching body, I hiss his name.

“Bishop.”

“From now on, you call me by my fucking name, baby,” he says with a grunt.

Then he gives me what I need.

And when he does, I open my mouth, but not a single sound escapes. Every muscle in my entire body freezes, and I come. The relief I feel is short-lived, though, because as soon as my body finds its moment to just accept all that he’s offered, my shorts are gone, and he’s inside of me.

Opening my eyes again, lifting my hands, I grip his shoulders. Bullet’s hand is still very much wrapped around the front of my throat, his fingers gently flexing as he moves inside of me. It’s not slow and easy. It’s not a roll of the hips.

He fucks me.

It’s hard and fast.

It’s perfect… but it’s also outside in the open during broad daylight against a building.

And that realization washes over me about the time he comes deep inside of me. Burying himself there as his cock twitches and I feel his cum fill my body. Again, without protection and with zero birth control.

I am playing Russian Roulette with my body in about a million different ways. But when Bishop shifts forward and touches his lips to mine, when he kisses me so thoroughly that my brain short circuits, it almost feels worth it.

I know it shouldn’t.

But it does.

And that is why I’m here again, with him buried deep inside of me, his cum filling me.

BULLET

I should not be fucking her on the outside wall of Ivy’s office, in the daylight, in the absolute fucking middle of town. But here I am, balls deep inside of her, kissing her. Only when I hear a car in the distance honk do I slip out of her and right my jeans.

She does the same with her shorts, pulling them on and smoothing out her shirt, her gaze looking everywhere but at me while she does it. Reaching out, I pinch her chin with my finger and thumb to gently guide her head from being tipped down so she can look up into my eyes.

“I’m serious,” I say.

“You’re serious?”

I snort, my lips twitching into a smirk. “Yeah, baby. I’m serious. I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay right fucking here. With me.”

“With you.”

Dipping my chin slightly, I make sure to make eye contact with her again. “You a parrot?” I ask.

She shakes her head, but I can tell that she is thinking. She’s not one-hundred-percent focused on this moment. Then, as if the wheels and the words all click into place, her eyes sharpen, and she narrows them on me.

“I’m not a parrot,” she snaps. “But I don’t understand what you mean, with you?”

My eyes search hers for a moment. She knows exactly what I fucking mean. “As mine.”

She lets out a heavy sigh and then shakes her head. “I don’t know how to do relationships. I don’t know much about them, but I’m not sure that’s what you want from me. I don’t think that it’s going to be what you need.”

Fighting smiling, laughing, or just fucking her again, I dip my chin and touch my mouth to hers.

“You’re all I need, baby,” I murmur against her lips, brushing my mouth against hers. Then I lift my head. “Now let’s go inside that office and tell your lawyer that you’re not selling a single fucking thing.”

She doesn’t turn toward the door. Instead, she watches me for a moment, then shakes her head a couple of times.

“That woman, that situation. It’s not for me. The fact that you sided with her was everything I needed to know. This isn’t for me. I lived a communal life for long enough to see the good and the bad. I don’t want to share everything with anyone else.”

My response is instant. Reaching behind her, I grasp the back of her hair, gripping the strands tightly, and tug her head back. Her neck arches, her eyes widen, and I hear her breath hitch.

“You think I’m going to share you with anyone?” I ask, but I don’t give her the chance to answer because I continue. “I don’t fucking share, Dakota.”

“That woman is shared,” she whispers.

My lips curve up into a grin. “That woman is a whore. It’s her job, just like you do your personal assistant stuff. She spreads her legs.”

She wrinkles her nose, probably in disgust, but it only makes my smile widen because she’s that fucking cute. “So, I stay here, and you won’t be with her or anyone else, just me?”

My brows lift as I watch her, my gaze searching hers for a moment. I’m not really sure what I thought she would want in a relationship when I started this.

Honestly, I figured she wouldn’t give much of a fuck what I did when she wasn’t around. It’s the way the club life has always been. What you don’t know won’t fucking kill you.

But as I stand in front of her, I realize that she not only doesn’t know jack shit about club life, which I knew, but she also doesn’t want anything remotely close to her childhood. Which, oddly enough, somewhat aligns with the club, at least when it comes to sex—in some ways.

“Never had a woman before, Dakota. Never had anyone exclusive at all. Not sure I know how to do it. And if you had asked me this even a couple weeks ago, I would have told you that I would never be loyal to anyone. That I would do what I wanted, the way I wanted, and everyone else would be damned.”

She smirks as her honey gaze searches mine for a moment before her expression changes to a serious one.

“You hate me, Bishop. That kind of anger and the way you despised me from the moment you knew I existed doesn’t just go away. I’m not sure what all of this is, but I think it’s best if I just sell everything and leave.”

Gripping her hair tighter, I don’t let her attempt to take even one step away from me. Lowering my head, I slide my nose alongside hers, shifting my lips to her ear before I whisper so that only she can hear me.

“There is a fine line between love and hate, baby.”

She trembles in my arms, and only then do I release her and take a step backward, holding out my palm for her to take. She looks down at my hand, then slowly lifts her gaze to meet mine. I don’t know if she’s going to go with me or tell me to get the fuck lost.

“I don’t know anything about relationships. And I have a feeling that this is going to hurt me in the end because, love or hate, there is no way this is going to have a good outcome.”

“Yeah?” I ask.

She hums, nodding her head. “I’m not stupid, Bishop. I’m naive and ignorant to the way the world works, but I’m not stupid.”

I wait for her to continue, knowing that she’s going somewhere with this. Instead of interrupting her the way I want to, I just wait. I watch her and wait. I know she’s going to continue, and with this, I’m not going to rush her, even though that’s exactly what I want to do.

“You want me because of who my father is and no other reason.”

I should deny those words. That observation. But I don’t, mainly because she’s mostly correct. I do want her because of her father. It would be stupid of me to deny that, especially since I’ve only actually known her for a few days.

“I do want you because of who your father is. I loved Shade, but it’s not exactly what you think, either.”

“It’s not?” she asks.

Shaking my head, I reach out, extending my index finger as I touch the center of her chest, but don’t drag it down the way I want to. My eyes meet hers, and I focus on them momentarily before I clear my throat and attempt to explain myself.

“I loved Shade. He was like a father to me, and you were brought to me when I felt an unimaginable loss. You don’t have a family anymore, but I can give you that.”

She presses her lips together, rolling them a few times, and tears fill her eyes as they search mine. I watch as she opens her mouth and then closes it, unsure of what to say. I don’t blame her. I’m throwing shit out there that I know surprises her.

“The men of this club are your family. Let me be your family, baby. None of that you can do from Oregon.”

She looks to the parking lot before she shifts her gaze back to meet mine. “I don’t know,” she whispers. “I just don’t know. I feel like if I just picked up and moved here, it would be very abrupt and maybe not the smartest thing in the world to do. I don’t want to do anything that would cause me to be even more alone.”

As much as I want to force her, hell, if I could force her right now, I fucking would. To be honest, I probably should. Not just because I want to keep her where I am but because I want to protect her, too.

Bloodhouse MC is still in the back of my mind. They’re watching. I know they are. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have chosen now to fuck with us. But seeing how upset she is, I don’t do that.

I also don’t tell her about the Bloodhounds.

The last thing I want to do is terrify her, which could really send her running.

“Let’s take it all day by day, Dakota. How about that? No big decisions today.”

Her lips curve up into a smile, and she bites her bottom lip. “I think I can do that.”

Lowering my head, I touch my lips to hers. “Good girl.”