12 Inches (A Secret Baby Dark Romance)(168)

I never said I was nice.

On the west side, with my mc.

I can’t help grinning as I text back:

Are you at Chelsea Piers, playing mini golf?

I need to throw in some mention of bikes—pedal bikes. That’d really get under his skin.

I mean, yeah, sure, he had the valet bring his Harley around that night at the Clover Club, but when you have a valet driving your Harley to deliver it to you, I'm sorry, that just doesn't count toward the masculinity factor. I refuse to think of someone who uses a valet as also being a rough and tough guy. It just…doesn’t compute.

Before I can come up with the best way to ask him how fast he can get his Schwinn bicycle to go, he responds:

No, although I can take you there sometime if you really want to go. I’m here at the clubhouse. Wanna come over?

Very much. What is the address?

I’m totally going to Google Map whatever addy he gives me. It’s probably going to be for some Italian restaurant or something.

I’ll warn you; you’ll probably have to give blowjobs to every club member in the joint if you come here.

I study my screen, biting my lip as I think. I’m pretty sure he isn’t being serious, but…what if he is? I mean, I want it rough; I want it from a man, but I don’t want to be gangbanged. That’s too far, even for me.

I decide to play it safe, for now.

We should compromise. You come to my place in Times Square. I don’t have a MC hanging out in the lobby, but I do have a gym.

You want just me, or do you want some of my buddies too?

I gulp. Oh my god, he can’t be serious, right?

Right?

I think your dick is big enough to satisfy me.

As long as you’re happy…





75





Diesel





The car is headed toward Lisa’s and I look over my messages on my phone, trying to make sure that I’ve answered everything. I’m pretty sure I won’t be available for the next several hours.

All of a sudden my phone rings.

I see who it is, and pick up.

You want to know who it is, isn’t it?

You know I can’t tell you. You’re too close to Lisa. You’ll just go and tell her.

Besides, one of the rules of my MC is that I can’t fucking talk about inside business with outsiders. Doesn’t matter who the fuck I am, they’ll take away my patch and maybe even kill me if I started giving out the deepest, darkest secrets of the club.#p#分页标题#e#

Don’t worry. We’re not trafficking in women or drugs. At least not this chapter. But we can’t have just every single reader on the Amazon store know our business, you know?

Definitely Lisa can’t know. That’s sort of a given.

Sure, she wants an outlaw. I get that.

If she ever knew about me, I don’t know how long she’d stay, though.

It’s something I can’t get over.

But if things keep going the way they are with her, it’s something Im going to have to tell her about eventually. I mean, there’s only a certain amount of time I can keep fucking her without her asking any questions. She’s already started to. She’s probably already googled me. And she’s probably left with more questions than answers.

That just means one thing. I have a choice coming up soon.

Either tell her about who I really am.

Or watch her leave me.





76





Lisa





Makeup? Check. Tight dress? Check. Sexy lingerie? Check. All systems go; I’m ready for takeoff. Well, almost ready; I’m still waiting on the pilot.

Although only an hour passed after Diesel’s last text, it seems like that was an eternity ago. I’m walking around my apartment like someone hit in the head by a club; I go from the kitchen to the bedroom, then head to the living room and only stop when I raced through every corner in the place. Why am I this nervous? It’s not like this is my first time with him… But I can’t shake off the anxiety that has settled deep in my bones. Every time I remember how it felt to have my naked body pressed against Diesel’s, his hard cock buried deep inside of me… That’s enough to make a wet mess out of me.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door and my train of thought derails. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, and then walk to the door with a steady gait.

“Long time, no see,” Diesel greets me as I open the door. He’s leaning against the doorway, his leather jacket thrown over his shoulder. This time he isn’t wearing a Polo, but a simple black dress shirt that clings to his muscles in an impossibly delicious way.

“So, how was mini-golf?” I say, trying to play it cool and confident as I step to the side, inviting me in.

“Dangerous,” he simply responds, throwing his jacket over my couch. “Gladly, I was there to prevent anyone from spraining an ankle.”