Lahat ng Kabanata ng Biker-in-law's Death Kiss: Kabanata 231 - Kabanata 240

Sitting on the pew, I stared at the candles till my eyes hurt, and my vision distorted, when I heard him walking back into the chapel.I had no idea how long I had been here, if he left or where he went, but the storm was over, and it was winter again. The air, chilly and still. From the sound of his boots, I knew most of his anger was gone. Or maybe he had decided to hide it.I did not turn around even when I felt him standing tentatively behind me. “We should go back home.” He said quietly, and despite straining my ears, I could not accurately pick out the emotions I heard in that voice.I shook my head. “Let’s continue to the Soirée.” I couldn’t imagine returning to the house as if nothing had happened. Tonight would undoubtedly be awful, and that place with his comrades was the best place for him to get it all out and unwind.He moved then, and from my side vision, I saw him lower into the seat beside me. My head swiveled to him, immediately noticing his tense shoulders, and I

I watched the men drink and discuss biker politics that made no sense to me except the fact that I thought it seemed a little like the mafia politics I read in weathered paperbacks I got from the library in my teen years.“Excuse me.” I smiled at the old man, and he turned to me with kind eyes, reaching out to pat my hand as I stood up.I mourned the chance I lost as I walked away. Those men had moved to our table before I even got the chance to speak. Stopping at the counter, I waited for the bar attendant to turn around before asking her in Hungarian where the bathroom was.Unlike the bikers, I doubted she understood a lick of English, and as she gave me directions, I nodded with a polite smile. Louise might be the devil's mistress, but she spared no cost with my education, and I had learned more languages than I thought I would ever need.When I returned from the restroom, I took one of the stools by the counter, deciding to hang out with the bar attendant, who told me her name w

Torrin Reeve turned to me, leaning down as if to speak to a child, “Tell me sweetheart, how do you like his savior complex, this untamable urge to ride off and be the hero no matter who gets hurt.” That struck a chord in me, and scratched at fresh wounds, but I wasn’t about to turn my back on the man I loved in enemy territory. So I placed my hand in Colt's and squeezed. “Yes, let’s leave. I’m tired.”“Ah, A loyal one.” Torrin Reeve straightened up, and Colt stepped closer to him.“This is the last time you’ll approach my girl, Torrin. Stay dead.”Torrin Reeve grabbed him by the collar then, and I gasped, but the man gently pulled him close, like a lover he was about to kiss. “Trying for redemption?” He whispered so quietly I almost couldn’t hear him. “Can't blame you. She does look like the one you couldn’t save.”And to my surprise, an emotion I never thought I would see in a man like Colt flickered in his eyes. Fear. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, and moving his arm

COLTSmack!I was jolted awake by a sting, and when I opened my eyes, Olivia was hovering above me, looking unnatural in the undecided light of dawn.The woman was unreal, with her dark, dark hair hanging over my face now, teasing my skin, and running down her back in lush tresses to outline her milky skin.I stared into her eyes, those purple eyes that stunned everyone at first sight. She might as well be a goddess, and not in the cliché way, but in the exact description of goddesses by swooning male writers. However, this goddess was furious right now, eyes bright and flashing under the glow of her bedside lamp.She spanked me again, same spot, right on my balls.I winced, glancing down to see she’d taken my pajama pants off in my sleep.“I won.” She said, “Why did you not tell me I won?”I was about to ask how she expected me to broach the subject of games and blue balls after she locked me out of the bathroom last night, when I felt her warm palm wrap my balls and tug.“Jesus, Ol

I’ll never do this again, I repeated over and over to myself like a mantra.Why the hell had I been curious about this, when one look at those frosty eyes and stiff arrogant neck should have told me that Oliva could be a real mean bitch.“Are you cursing me out?” She called from behind me now, and I inhaled.“No mistress.”“Am I being mean?”“No mistress.”“Did you deserve timeout?” She asked, and I heard the familiar sound of the vibrator I used on her last night, start-up, as the sun made its first appearance, the light creeping slowly across the glass walls and casting golden rays like glitter into the room. I felt so exposed standing like this, vulnerable, but in a good way.It felt good to be physically incapable of thinking about any other thing besides how much I wanted to fuck her right now, how wet she must be. With my back turned to her and my eyes on the wall, my ears worked to overcompensate, and I could hear the faintest brush of her body on the couch, the whisper of th