Axle's Brand (Death Chasers MC 3)

“Coming?” he asks, still acting as though what he said was no big deal.

“You’ve seriously never had one?” I blurt out.

Bored expression on his face, he walks back to me, waving off the guy at the door who is holding it open for us.

“Not sure why that’s so surprising to you,” he says gruffly. “A random party girl took my virginity just to steal money from the club. The status quo has been the occasional club whore since then and an immediate STI test in case the condom failed. The girls might get theirs, but that doesn’t mean I’m ever their first choice. In case you haven’t noticed, what I lack in appearance, I do not make up for in charm. The last thing they want to do is get their faces that close to the worst of my scars—on my legs—and suck cock. And I don’t ask for it. Sex works to take the edge off, and that’s all it was ever about.”

He studies my expression, his lips thinning.

“I’m going to stop telling you shit if you start showing pity. I like the fact you don’t pity me, so don’t—”

“It’s surprise,” I interrupt. “Not pity. I’m not just to take the edge off, am I?

My eyes narrow expectantly as my hands go to my hips.

He smirks. “There hasn’t been an edge since that first night. We both know that.”

He turns and walks away, and I grin at his back as I skip behind him, following him through the door.

“I’m sort of happy about the fact I’ll be the first girl to suck your dick,” I state bluntly, loving the way he always seems stumped by the things I say.

However…I forget we’re in a snazzy hotel lobby when I toss that line out. Loudly.

An elegantly dressed woman gasps, staring at me in horror, before dropping her fancy store bag to the ground. Several other eyes are also staring at me like they can’t believe I just said that.

Axle simply looks at me with zero expression on his sexy face. “Pretty sure the entire hotel didn’t need to be informed of that,” he tells me blandly, not rattled by me anymore, apparently.

He walks on to check us in, while I ignore the woman still gawking at me with reddened cheeks puffed out on her face.

Sheesh. Talk about sucking dick and people act like you just made a terrorist threat.

I sidle up next to Axle just as he gets the key cards to our room, and I follow his lead to the elevator. Much to her dismay, the red-faced woman joins us on the elevator, practically hugging the other side across from us like dick-sucking might be contagious.

I grin up at Axle, who merely rolls his eyes at me. The hand not holding his helmet reaches over and squeezes my ass as he draws me to be in front of him.

I’m a little surprised when he bends and starts kissing me, both of us ignoring the indignant gasp from our elevator companion. Our lips don’t part until the elevator doors ding with arrival, and Axle draws back, glancing over at the woman.

“Enjoy the rest of your ride,” he drawls, and the poor woman turns about three more shades of red as she scoots to the back of the elevator when she finally stares directly at his face and the scars there.

Unaffected, Axle turns and struts out, clasping my hand along the way, and I grin back at her and wink.

He guides us to a room, releases my hand to dig out the card and open the door, and we both drop our helmets just inside the door as soon as we’re inside.

He drops the backpack that I can only assume is carrying an extra change of clothes, and I go straight to the room service menu.

“I take it you’re hungry,” he says, sounding amused.

“Room. Service. You have no idea how obsessed I am with someone bringing me food, and I actually collect those tiny little condiment bottles. They’re just so damn cute,” I tell him without looking up.

Well, I finally look up when he doesn’t say anything back.

He’s just watching me, eyebrows up in confusion.

“What?” I ask.

He shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Just when I think you can’t surprise me any more, you prove me wrong.”

“My tiny condiment bottle collection stuns you more than me being excited about popping your oral cherry?”

With a completely serious expression, he retorts, “I think you’re still just trying to sit on my face.”

My grin grows, and when his smile starts to spread like it’s contagious, he turns his back and starts unzipping the backpack.

“Timing is still off, but that joke was almost funny,” I say, laughing to myself as I resume reading the menu.

I know all the things Axle likes to eat—steak being one of them—so I call in my order, using one of my burner credit cards as payment.