“So, is this how they taught you to cook in MC school?” I ask, because really, I can’t help myself. If Diesel wants someone who'll fawn over his every word and action, he’s picked entirely the wrong girl to fuck.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Diesel says with a self-deprecating grin. “Although I don’t remember the president’s eggs looking quite this…dark.”
He scrapes them off into the trashcan and after a nice, long stare into my entirely-too-bare fridge (I like to eat out, what can I say?) we settle on bagels and cream cheese.
“Who's the president of your boys’ club?” I ask, digging into the bagel with relish.
“I used to be president of the Black Fist MC,” he says, ignoring my dig. “I stepped down about a year or so ago so I could focus on the family business.”
“Speaking of, don’t you have to go to work sometime soon?” I ask with a glance at the clock. I should probably be going myself, although I’ll be the first to admit that I use Daughter of the Law Firm to my advantage quite often, and thus if I’m an hour or three late to work, no one says a word.
Lisa Spoiled Rotten Macomber is my name; don’t wear it out.
“I’ll get my shit done, don’t you worry,” he says, dropping a kiss on the crown of my head as he passes by to put his plate in the sink. “I have some things I have to take care of tonight, but I’ll be back in town tomorrow.” He comes back, pulling me off my barstool.
“Wha—”
“I need my shirt back,” he murmurs, unbuttoning it slowly, kissing me as he moves down my stomach. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“No-oo-ooh,” I stutter, throwing my head back and closing my eyes in ecstasy. God, his tongue felt amazing. He reached my pussy, darting his tongue between my lips and I groan and—
He steps back, a big smile on his face. “Glad to hear it,” he says cheerfully, walking up the stairs to get the rest of his shit from my bedroom.
I throw the kitchen towel at him but even I’ll admit that it hit with a very unsatisfying pfft.
He laughs all the way up the stairs.
69
Diesel
I shift in my seat, surprised by how anxious I am to see Lisa again. I’ve never had a woman get under my skin like this before, and I’m not entirely sure that I like it. I mean, I like the fucking—there’s never a question about that—but it’s this…emotional attachment to her that’s getting to me. If the guys could see me now, as excited as a schoolboy over seeing a girl, they’d laugh their asses off at me.
And I’d deserve it. But...
I shift uncomfortably again. I can’t seem to help myself. And that’s what really gets to me.
Where are you?
She texts back quickly.
Just getting out of the Plaza.
Even better—that’s close by. I tell Antoine to head to the corner of 5th Avenue and 59th Street, and then go back to texting Lisa.
I’ll pick you up near the Grand Army Plaza and then we can go somewhere.
Like, my bed.
Like your MC clubhouse?
God, she’s a brat.
If you really like sucking a lot of cock, then su—
I glance up idly, movement catching my eye, and I see Lisa. She's being mugged. Some jackass is ripping her purse right off her shoulder.
“Stop!” I yell at the driver and throw myself out of the Rolls, not waiting for it to come to a stop, and I’m running in front of an oncoming truck and I fucking don’t care, I’m diving toward the guy’s kneecaps and taking him down, hitting the sidewalk with a sickeningly satisfying crunch.