Every time one of the bikers got clubbed in the head with the “ol’ lady” stick—what the sisterhood called the members getting snagged and bagged—she had been relieved it hadn’t been Rev.
She had a few fantasies about the other guys—how could she not?—but every time she broke out her purple Greedy Girl G-Spot Rabbit Vibrator, it was Rev’s blue eyes, his tattoos, his numerous piercings, his panty-soaking raspy voice, and those luscious lips—ones she’d love to have pressed on her upper and lower ones—she thought about. Dreamed about. It was thoughts of Rev replacing her Rabbit that made her orgasms even more intense.
Reilly shifted on the hard wooden seat. Rev was currently having a crisis. She shouldn’t be daydreaming about getting him naked and riding his cock until they both passed out.
Wait. Was that even possible? She didn’t know but she was willing to try, even though he might not be.
The only sex she’d had in the past year—due to her dear sister’s fear of her getting involved with another abusive fuckwad like Billy—had been with one buzzed guy while crammed in his two-door coupe behind Crazy Pete’s and he’d lasted about twenty seconds, if that, and…
And a failed attempt with a Fury member.
Who was not Rev.
But they ended up aborting that mission after massive drinking, furious flirting and something tragic happening…
Fear freezing him.
Apparently, Reese, Deacon, and even Judge’s looming threat of a “blanket party” if any of the members attempted to touch one of the women on the “Don’t Even Fucking Think About It” list, was enough to kill any man’s hard-on.
Reilly had heard the details about what had been done to Cage. She heard about it multiple times whenever she flirted heavily with any of the guys. She could see it in their eyes. Having sex with Reilly was not worth being clubbed by the six-foot-two, two-hundred-and-forty-pound sergeant at arms.
After seeing the result of Cage’s own blanket party, she might agree. But that sucked for her because it meant if she was going to have sex with anyone, it had to be some random guy who didn’t wear a Fury cut and ride a “sled.”
The man next to her did both.
Which sucked. It really did.
That also meant her life was being controlled by someone other than herself. Even if it was only her sex life. Because normally her sex life was a big part of her whole life. Except for now.
And she did not like that one bit.
However, she knew the guys had to agree to the by-laws and rules to remain a patched member in good-standing. She also knew she had to respect those rules and by-laws herself to also remain a welcomed part of the club.
Was she willing to give up any of that just for the opportunity to get between the sheets and sweaty with any of the single Fury members? She stared at Rev.
Yes.
No.
Shit. Maybe.
She shook herself mentally.
The man next to her was already dealing with enough shit. She shouldn’t be adding to it with her desire to jump his bones.
She shouldn’t.
She wouldn’t.
At least, not right now.
However, if he didn’t say anything soon, her thoughts would continue to spiral down a delicious but dangerous path. He needed to either officially finish this conversation by getting up and walking away or continue it since he had forced her back onto the bench. A sign he didn’t want her to leave just yet.
Not sit there like Cujo had bitten his tongue off.
Men. Frustrating as hell.
“Why would you tell this Matthew, whoever he is,” hint, hint, “that Saylor is dead?”
“To them, she is.”
Them. His family? Was Matthew part of his family?
“The reason Saylor came here…” She mentally sighed when he didn’t pick up on her prompt. So, she continued leading him in the direction she wanted the conversation to go. “You said they didn’t want her to come home after her release from juvie because she was out of control. But you told this Matthew, whoever he is,” hint, hint, “she’s dead.” She waited, mentally poking at him to explain.
“Matthew’s my uncle. My mother’s brother.”
Finally!
Rev locked his damn irresistible eyes with hers. “Haven’t told anyone this. Shouldn’t be tellin’ you, either, but…” Reilly hung on that last word, watching his lickable, kissable lips move as he spoke. “They wanted her to come home.”
Hold on. She blinked, confused. That wasn’t what Rev or Saylor had said. “Oh. But—”
“That was the last fuckin’ place she wanted to go and, even if it wasn’t, there was no fuckin’ way I was lettin’ her go home. Not then, not now. Not fuckin’ ever.”
Unfortunately, the more he talked, the more confused she got. Conversation was supposed to clear up misunderstandings, not make them more convoluted. Someone needed to tell Rev that. Or steer him in the right direction. That somebody was her. “I thought you called her so she could go with you… to wherever home is.” Hint, hint.
“No.” He shook his head. “Shouldn’t have called her.”
Now, instead of wanting to ride his cock, she wanted to strangle him. “But she needed to know her father—your father—is ill, right?”
“Why I called her.”
“But you don’t want her to go with you to… wherever.” Hint… Oh, fuck it. “Where is wherever?”
“Reilly.”
“Rev. Seriously. I was going to go back inside and leave you alone, but you forced me to sit back down. I’m thinking there’s a reason for that. Am I wrong?”
He turned his gaze from her to stare out over the storage yard, which was really more of an organized junkyard, full of old vehicles, stray cats and rats. Mud, too. She couldn’t forget all the damn mud.
Even under his thick, but short, dark blond beard she could see his jaw clenched tight.
“I’m not wrong,” she whispered, turning on the bench until her thigh was pressed against his. She brushed her fingers over the short wiry hairs covering his tight jawline. “I can’t sit out here forever, Rev. Dutch is probably throwing things right now. Especially if the phone is ringing off the hook in the office and I’m not there to answer it.”
“Go inside, then.”
“You didn’t want me to go back inside,” she reminded him softly. “You wanted me to stay. I’m here. I’m listening.”
His eyes squeezed shut. “Can’t fuckin’ think straight.” He opened them and jerked his chin toward the slip of paper. “Don’t ever take a call from that man again.”
“Okay.”
“He calls, you hang up.”
“Okay.”
“No. First tell him to fuck off, then hang up.”
“I’ll do that.” She stared at him a few more moments while he worked through whatever emotion was crossing his face. “What are you going to do?”
He scrubbed both palms down his face to wipe that emotion away and sighed. “Don’t know.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Don’t know.”
Maybe she should ask questions he knew the answers to, to make it easier for him to process whatever he was attempting to process. “Where do they live?”