She blushed, holding out a hand.
Horse shook his head slowly and started unrolling. What he saw nearly sent his cock punching through his jeans. It was a vibrator, and a beast at that. Not too long, but it split into two parts, one clearly designed to go inside and stimulate a woman’s G-spot, the other for her clit.
Marie kept her toy wrapped in his t-shirt.
Oh yeah. He owned her now.
“Pack the shit and the toy,” he said, barely able to get the words out. What would she look like, using that thing on herself? He couldn’t wait to find out.
She threw everything into her backpack and zipped it shut, throwing it over her shoulder.
“That it?” he asked. “You want anything else from the living room or kitchen? It won’t be here if you try to come back.” It’ll be burned to a crisp, along with any evidence your brother might have hidden here.
Marie shook her head, blushing fiercely. He leaned in close, whispering in her ear, “Next time you want to play with your pretty pink toy, you do it while I’m watching. If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you wear the tee. Got it?”
Marie nodded. Horse took her arm and pulled her through the living room, past Jeff and his brother Reapers, out to his bike.
Chapter Eleven
Marie
The ride to Coeur d’Alene surprised me.
For one, it seemed to take forever because riding on the bike was work. I had to hold on and pay attention the whole way and given all I’d gone through that day, it wiped me out.
On the positive side, I didn’t have to talk to Horse.
We stopped twice at rest areas so I could pee and Horse could make phone calls. I watched him, feeling naked without my phone. They’d taken it from me, along with my car keys, and I didn’t get the impression I’d be getting it back. Horse didn’t tell me what the calls were about and I didn’t ask. I also didn’t know where the other Reapers were or how my brother was doing. All I cared about was staying upright on the bike.
By the time we pulled off the freeway in Coeur d’Alene it was dark. I didn’t pay attention to where we went or our route. I did notice that we drove through several populated neighborhoods near a very big lake before turning off on a narrow road through the woods. Buildings grew sparse. Horse pulled up to an old farmhouse, complete with quaint-looking outbuildings and a big red barn.
So not what I expected from a biker.
Horse cut the engine and I got off stiffly, trying to stretch.
“Is this your place?”
“Bought it three years ago,” he replied, walking past me toward the wide, covered porch, which had a swing, for God’s sake. Like something on a country postcard. It wasn’t fancy or big, but it was very well cared for and I suspected it had been painted within the last year or so.
I grabbed my backpack and followed him through the front door. I found myself in a living room furnished in what could only be called “man cave”. Big flat-screen, giant comfy L-shaped couch, four different remotes on the coffee table and a poster on the wall of a naked woman straddling a motorcycle backward, flat on her stomach and cheek resting on the back seat.
I hadn’t known bikes and human women could have sexual intercourse, but that was the clear implication. Lovely.
There was a hallway going straight back to what I assumed was the kitchen. A flight of stairs hugged the left wall of the house, which is where Horse headed. I really, really didn’t want to follow him.
“Get your ass up here.”
All-righty then.
I trailed him up the wooden stairs, which were covered in the center with a runner so old you couldn’t even tell what the original pattern had been. Horse flipped on the light and stood on a landing big enough to run the full width of the house, waiting for me. A person could’ve put some chairs and a little table in there, but he just had boxes piled around. Three doors led to other rooms, two toward the back of the house and one toward the front. He pointed toward the front room.
“That’s mine. Stay the fuck out of it unless you’re invited.”
“Okay.”
“This one’s the bathroom, here’s your bedroom. There’s another bathroom downstairs if you need it, next to the kitchen. Don’t flush the toilet if someone’s in the shower, the pipes are old. Go put your shit away and meet me downstairs. I’m hungry.”
I had a vision of him showering and me deliberately flushing, suddenly burning him. Maybe I’m a bad person but it made me smile. Horse narrowed his eyes at me, suspicious. I ignored him and went into my room. It was small and plain, with aged and scuffed wood floors, cream-colored walls with old-fashioned trim and two sash windows. A queen-sized bed took up most of the space, covered with very modern bedding—you know the type, one of those bed-in-a-bag things with a giant fluffy comforter that you can get for cheap at Walmart. There was a small dresser against the wall opposite the door with a mirror. A small closet stood open on the right.