But it’s never enough. Cleaning and cooking become expected. It’s just who you are. To keep proving your loyalty and gratitude, you must do more crap for free. Babysit, yard work, errands, keeping your mouth shut, marry nerds from Bismarck, the list goes on. Until, eventually, they sell you out completely.
“I’m nervous about the test result,” I tell Conor after he finishes eating and stretches his long, muscular body. “What happens if it’s negative?”
“Your mom was here when she claimed to be. That math is solid. If Lowell’s sperm didn’t do the deed, it was someone in the club.”
“You aren’t even a tiny bit worried that it’s your father?” I ask, wrapping my sandwich up in the to-go paper the waitress brought.
“No.”
“Why?”
“My father had strong genetics and a very specific look. If you were his, you’d look like him.”
“But it’s just you, right?” I ask, certain Conor is in denial. “How can you be sure his genetics didn’t hit the lottery with his one kid?”
Conor studies my face while his remains unreadable. “I’m not his only kid. He had one before me with a girl from high school. That son is a less sexy version of me.” When I smirk at his wording, he shrugs. “My mom is hotter than the other guy’s mom. It helped smooth out a few things, you know?”
“Okay, but you’re both dudes. Maybe if he had a daughter, he’d—”
Conor stops me with a headshake. “He cheated on my mom plenty. I have a younger half-sister living in Missouri. Her existence is a well-known secret. Aja’s mom was a bunny. Now, she’s a biker’s old lady. Anyway, my sister has the chick version of my father’s face. Like I said, Billy Jessup had him some strong-ass genetics. His sister and brother looked just like him, and they all resembled my dead grandfather, who apparently set a man on fire. I come from an attractive yet fucked-up bloodline.”
“Well, I can’t argue with your evidence. I guess that means we can go back to my apartment and fuck.”
A lesser man might react physically to my words. Conor just says, “No. I’m thinking of heavy petting. At most, a hand job. We’re dating. You know that, right? This isn’t me biker man, you bunny lady. Fucking isn’t expected. I’m looking to make you my girlfriend, Monroe. That’s why I told none of the guys to nail your sweet slit. I didn’t want you to think of me as another cock in a long line of tattooed ones.”
“Wait, is your dick tattooed?”
“Keep taking me out to eat, and I’ll let you find out,” he murmurs and wiggles his eyebrows.
“Fine, we’ll go back to my apartment and dry hump like horny teenagers.”
Conor slides out of the booth and sighs. “I need to be romanced, Monroe. Be sure to compliment me a lot. Talk about how thick my hair is and how my muscles are big. Make me fall for you.”
I grin at his teasing, relieved to have a distraction from worrying about the blood test. I message Amity during the drive to make sure she isn’t around. She says she’s at Anders’s house, helping to plant a tree. I know she likes the giant’s hippie family, who are very affectionate. Anders’s wife, Pixie, also doesn’t mind that he fucked the bunnies.
“Fucking is what people do when they want to have sex,” she said once at a community party when another club lady gave the bunnies attitude.
I feel as cool about Amity and the other bunnies knowing Conor’s dick. Jealousy isn’t something I’ve ever had the luxury to suffer from. In Minton, all the best men had already fucked my cousin Zella by the time they showed interest in me. That’s just how life worked, and I’m more interested in comfort than starting drama.
On the drive over, I ask Amity to give me an hour or two alone with Conor. A few minutes later, she says she was invited to stay for dinner. Afterward, she’ll work a shift a Bambi’s Bar & Grill.
“Consider clothes optional until at least two a.m.,” she texts with plenty of winking emoticons.
Sitting at a light, I find myself worrying I’ve gotten too attached to her. Will I still be in Elko in a month? Or even a week? Wouldn’t it be best to keep my heart protected from more pain? Yes, it would be smarter to keep everyone at arm’s length.
However, I still plaster myself against Conor as he climbs off his Harley in the apartment’s parking lot. He owns an effortless strength and confidence that I want to siphon off for myself. Conor understands his place in the world. I have no idea where I belong. For a short time today, I’ll pretend to have my answers as long as I’m with him.
I’ve never been a particularly shy person, so making out in the elevator doesn’t bother me. Conor’s lips are so soft, yet his hand wraps imposingly around the back of my neck. I’m free to pull away, but not really. When my fingers slide across his nipples, he jerks me closer. His casual coolness slips, revealing how much he needs what I offer.
I appreciate Conor being obvious about his feelings. I’m too wired about life in general to play guessing games. That’s why once we’re inside my apartment, I toss my purse on a chair along with my shirt. After kicking off my shoes and sticking the leftover sandwich in the fridge for Amity, I don’t ask if he wants a drink or to clean up or any other wasteful questions. We both know why he’s here. I’m unsure if he’s serious about the over-the-clothes stuff. Either way, I’m ready to forget about the world for a while and zero in on Conor’s hot body.
“Don’t forget to smooth-talk me,” he says, flopping down on the couch dramatically. “I need to feel how much you respect my inner beauty.”
“I’m going to shut you up now,” I say and straddle him before covering his lips with mine.
Silence is very much golden once Conor’s tongue gets involved. His hands slide up my bare back, teasing at my bra straps, before wrapping his arms around my shoulders to keep me pinned against him. I have no clue where he thinks I’m going. Dissolving into his warm touch is what I’ve needed after too long of feeling alone in a wide fucking world.
After a few minutes, I’m an overheated mess. “I want you inside me,” I groan, feeling his cock’s thickness through his jeans.
“Of course, you do. But there’s something called pacing ourselves.”
“I need relief,” I whimper when he sucks at my throat and his rough fingers tease my nipples through my bra. “Please, fuck me. I’m literally begging for it.”
“I can’t fuck you until you’ve bought me dinner. I’m too much of a gentleman to go against my code,” he says, mercilessly teasing my nipples while playing hard to get.
I think of his hard cock in my hands, the head tickling my tongue, the shaft filling my mouth.
“Let me suck you off,” I say, sliding out of his grip despite him trying to hold my nipples hostage. “I want to taste your cum. You owe me, Conor. I did pay for your lunch.”
His aloof demeanor nearly cracks at my using a guy line on him.
“Come on, baby. Don’t you want me?” I taunt while stroking his still-covered erection with my cheek. “I could make you feel so good.”
“Swear to me that those lines never worked on you.”