Dex downed the shot of whiskey Linc had placed in front of him only seconds earlier. He winced until the burn subsided, then tapped the shot glass on the bar. Linc shot him a frown since The Iron Horse Roadhouse was busy for a Friday night. He snagged the bottle of Jack Daniels and slammed it down in front of Dex.

“Ain’t fuckin’ here to serve you,” Linc growled. “Do it yourself.”

“Gonna tell Hawk you’re treatin’ his customers like shit.”

Linc flipped him the bird as he moved down the busy bar. “Since when are you a customer?”

“Whatever, dude,” Dex yelled out and snagged the bottle. “Hey, I need another shot glass!”

“Get it your fuckin’ self!” Linc shouted from the other end of the bar as he poured a draft.

“Work all fuckin’ day, can’t even relax an’ get some service ‘round here,” he muttered to himself.

He pushed from the stool and rounded the bar. He found clean shot glasses and grabbed one. When he glanced up, he spotted her coming through the front door of the bar.

He wasn’t the only one who spotted her. A muscle began to tick in his tight jaw when he noticed almost every male in The Iron Horse straining their neck to watch her cross the floor.

For fuck’s sake.

Yeah, it was fucking December and, yeah, women wore jeans because it was cold out. But, fuck, how many women could look that smoking hot just by wearing skin-tight denim which clung to fucking long legs that looked like they could wrap around his waist twice. And worse, those high-heeled boots made her legs look even longer...

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He needed to get his own place and move the hell out of church. His shithole upstairs wasn’t a place to take a woman of this caliber. No, it fucking wasn’t.

She stepped up to the bar, leaned into it and he forgot all about her legs. Now her tits were on his radar, since she wore some sort of deep V-necked thing that showed her very generous cleavage. This was not the top she was wearing earlier. Though that was hot, this was blazing hot. All that cleavage was framed by the little brown leather coat that hugged her curves perfectly.

But it was her breathy, “Hey,” that almost took him to his fucking knees.

He opened his mouth to say it back. When nothing but a squeak came out, he grimaced. Holy motherfuck!

Then she laughed. A throaty sound that came from deep within her that went right to his dick. He had to grab onto the bar to keep upright.

Her slate blue eyes dropped to the bottle of Jack sitting on the bar. “Are you going to pour me a whiskey? Or are you just going to stand there looking like you just shit your pants?”

His spine snapped straight and he grabbed the bottle, twisted the cap, and poured her a double.

After sliding it in front of her, he refilled his glass, too.

“Dex,” she said softly.

Goddamn, she remembered his name.

Then he remembered his name was sewn onto the front of his cut. Shit.

“Dex,” she said again.

Holy fuck, she could say his name a million times in that tone. He’d never get sick of hearing it.

“Dex! Yo, dickwad, get the fuck out from behind the bar,” Linc yelled at him. “It’s busy an’ you’re blockin’ me an’ Jester from gettin’ shit done.”

“Dex, what the fuck you doin’ behind the bar?” Hawk came up behind him and clapped him hard on the shoulder. “You ain’t a bartender. Get gone.”

“Linc’s a rude motherfucker,” he muttered.

“Yeah, but he gets shit done an’ he’s good at keepin’ the money flowin’. An’ I need that green since I got a kid on the way. Right now, you standin’ there’s fuckin’ him up. So, get gone.”

Dex rounded the bar, his eyes never leaving the woman. Then he realized he’d never found out her name!

But he knew how to remedy that. As he stepped up next to her on the customer side of the bar, Dex said, “Hawk, this is...”

The woman held out her hand to Hawk. “Brooke.”

Hawk’s gaze dropped to her outstretched hand, then he looked back up at her face. “So?” His gaze landed on Dex. “Since when d’you start introducin’ your pussy?”

“She ain’t my pussy.”

Yet.

Hawk’s dark eyes narrowed. “What is she, then?”

“She’s lookin’ for her father.”

“Yeah?” Hawk’s attention went back to Brooke.

“Yeah,” she answered softly.

“Did you lose ‘im?”

“Never had him to lose,” she stated.

Hawk stared at her for a long moment. Dex could tell his cousin was trying to figure out if she looked like anyone familiar. “Think he’s here at The Iron Horse?”

“She thinks he’s a part of DAMC.” Dex added, “Or was.”

Hawk cocked a brow. “Why’s that?”

“Because of something I found in my mother’s attic.”

Hawked lifted one broad shoulder. “Ask your ma, then.”

“She’s dead.”

“Fuck,” Hawk muttered and scrubbed a hand over his mohawk. “That sucks. So, who’s your pop?”

“That’s the million-dollar question.”

Hawks brows rose. “Don’t have a name?”

“No.”

“Well, good luck with that shit,” Hawk replied and moved down the bar.

“That’s Ace’s son?” Brooke asked as she watched Hawk talk to Jester.

“Yeah.”

She took a sip of her whiskey. “And you’re his...”

“Cousin.”

“Cousin,” she repeated slowly as if she was trying to build a family tree in her head. “Are all of you in this MC related?”

“No. Doc an’ Bear were the foundin’ members of our club. Most of us were born into the club, but there were two distinct trunks of the tree. Now? Not so much.”

“Why’s that?”

“The tree’s kinda gettin’ a bit twisted.” He downed his double shot, hissed, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Like incest?”

He slammed his glass onto the bar. “No! Fuck no. Like... look if I told you, you’d get confused. But back to your question, no, everyone ain’t related. Plenty of members who didn’t come from Doc or Bear’s blood.” He lifted his chin toward Linc. “Linc for one. Prospected an’ got patched in. Jester’s still a prospect an’ should be patched in soon. Neither are related to any of the rest of us.”

“How many members are in this MC?”

Dex shrugged and poured himself another double. “Haven’t counted lately. Enough to keep the club’s coffers fat.”

“With these businesses the MC owns.”

“Yeah.”

“Do these businesses support everyone?”

“Pretty much. Everyone’s gotta do their part.”

“Or what?”

“Or you’re out.”

“I didn’t think it was easy to leave an MC.”

“It ain’t.” He sighed. He wasn’t going to get into club business with her. Even the women of the DAMC didn’t hear all the business. It wasn’t for women’s ears. “Look, got a private bar on the other side of this buildin’. Let’s head over there where we can talk easier.”

“We’re talking just fine here.”

Dex glanced around the bar. “Too many eyes on us.” Truth was, there were too many eyes on Brooke. He wasn’t sure he liked that. No, he was sure. He definitely didn’t like it.

“So?”’

Dex gritted his teeth at her stubbornness. “Wanna get to know you better since you might end up bein’ a club sister.”

“Club sister? Do you look at all your club sisters like you did me at the pawn shop, or how you did when I walked into this bar?”

Dex frowned. “Fuck no. I’m related to some of ‘em.”

“But not all of them.”

Damn, this woman didn’t miss a thing. She was sharp. “Grew up with the rest. Same shit.” He grabbed the bottle of Jack and jerked his head toward the double doors leading to the kitchen that separated The Iron Horse and church. “C’mon.”

“Leave the Jack here,” Linc shouted. “There’s enough of it over there.”

Dex scowled at Linc. “Fuckin’ Linc. Don’t know what’s been up his fuckin’ ass. Wouldn’t have voted his ass in if I knew he was gonna be such a dick.”

“Maybe he’s having a bad day,” Brooke suggested.

“Just probably needs to get laid.”

Brooke smirked. “Sometimes we all need that.”

Dex’s head spun to consider the woman in front of him. Damn. “Yeah, we do. Some of us more often than others.”

With not even a twitch of a reaction to his words, Brooke pushed away from the bar. “Okay, let’s go.”

Dex placed the bottle on the bar and stared at Brooke in shock. He picked his jaw up from the floor. “Let’s go? To my room?”

Brooke’s grey-blue eyes widened. “No! To the other side of the building like you said. To talk.”

Ah, fuck. She got his blood boiling there for a second. “Yeah, right. That’s what I meant.”

“Lead the way.”

Oh fuck no. She needed to lead the way so he could appreciate everything about her. But... damn, she had no idea where she was going. He sighed and held out his hand.

She stared at it. “What’s that?”

“My fuckin’ hand.”

“What do I want that for?”

“So you don’t get lost.”

Her eyebrows knitted together. “I need to hold your hand so I won’t get lost? Is it far? Through a maze? I mean, you think I could be lost forever as we walk through one building?”

Dex’s lips flattened in annoyance as he shook his hand. “Just take it.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that.”

He frowned. “What doesn’t?”

“You telling me what to do and I do it.”

Dex heard a loud snort and noticed Hawk leaning against the bar, thick arms crossed over his chest as he watched the two of them. “This is gonna be good.”

“Fuck,” Dex muttered under his breath and dropped his hand. “Whatever. Let’s fuckin’ go.” He turned on his heels and headed toward the kitchen, hoping she was right behind him. He refused to turn around and check.

Though he wanted to.

He pushed through the double doors and held one open for her. And, yeah, she had followed him. He bit back his grin as she passed by. He fought the urge to lean in and smell her hair. He had a feeling he might end up sporting a black eye if he did.

And the whole bar would see her sucker punch him. Something he’d never live down.

He released the swinging door, then placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her through the kitchen. Surprisingly, she didn’t bitch. When they got to the swinging doors that lead into church, he held the door open for her again.

This time when she passed by, she paused and turned her head to hold his gaze. “That’s how a man should treat a woman. Not be demanding or crude by undressing her with his eyes.” With that, she walked into church.

His eyes dropped to her ass. Fuck. Those cheeks in those jeans...

She glanced over her shoulder and he quickly raised his gaze, pretending he didn’t just appreciate her ass.

But it was hard not to appreciate it.

Fuck, and now he was hard, too.

She stopped a few steps into the club side of the building and Dex realized why. Church wasn’t as busy as The Iron Horse, but there were way too many people hanging out, drinking and shooting pool for his liking.

They needed to go somewhere more private. He doubted she’d agree.

She wrinkled her nose. “This is your so-called church?”

For fuck’s sake, she acted like she walked into a meth-den or something.

“Yeah.” He pushed past her and moved behind the private club bar. He did a chin lift to Grizz who sat at the one end in his regular spot, nursing his endless beer.

Dex grabbed a bottle of Jack off the shelf behind the bar and found two clean shot glasses.

“Do you mind getting me a bigger glass with some soda in it? I normally don’t drink whiskey straight.”

Dex eyeballed her for a moment. Then his gaze swept the common area of church and noticed—once again—that his eyes weren’t the only ones checking Brooke out.

He really needed his own place.

Diesel and Jewel needed to move out of the apartment over the pawn shop and find a bigger place, before Jewel popped out D’s kid. Which was probably going to happen soon. A one-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment wasn’t ideal to raise a family.

But he really thought D was still in denial when it came to the fact that he was going to be an actual father. With an actual kid. One that wore diapers and cried and shit. However, if they moved out of the apartment and bought a house, reality was going to hit him like a two-by-four. Like that positive pee stick did.

Dex grinned when he remembered how D passed out at the news that Jewelee was pregnant. His big, badass cousin had hit the ground hard.

Unlike Hawk, who was happy when his ol’ lady got knocked up.

Dex was fine with letting his club brothers continue to pop out kids, because he wasn’t ready for that himself any time soon.

Though, if the woman in front of him right now got on her knees and begged for his baby, he might be willing to give it a shot.

Damn, that woman had rattled his brain.

He poured some Jack into the bottom of a tall glass and topped it off with the soda gun as Brooke settled on a stool at the bar, glancing around the common area.

“Is your clubhouse always this busy?”

“No. Depends on the night. Depends on if there’s a party or not.”

“Is there a party?”

“Nope. If the weather holds, goin’ for a run on Sunday. Pig roast after that.”

Her brows knitted together. “A run?”

“A group ride,” he clarified. He hoped the mild early December weather held, because it was most likely the last run of the year. Once winter hit, not too many of the brothers rode their sleds. And they certainly didn’t take them out on long runs.

“Ah. On your Harleys.”

“Yeah, our sleds.”

“Right. Sleds.” She accepted the glass of Jack and Coke and took a sip. “Will everyone be there?”

“Probably most of us.” Anyone who wasn’t afraid of a little cold weather.

“How does one get invited to go along on a run?”

“Why?” His eyes narrowed because of her question, but then his gaze dropped when her cleavage bounced as she shrugged.

“Just curious.”

“You wanna check everyone out.”

She cleared her throat, drawing his attention back up to her face, framed with her reddish blonde hair, and those grey-blue eyes. “Yeah, maybe. Could be a good way to figure out if my father is still in your club.”

“Why you determined to meet him?”

“Wouldn’t you be curious if you just found out your father wasn’t really your father?”

“Actually would be fuckin’ happy if he ain’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“Fucker took off leavin’ my mom with three small kids an’ no money. Cleaned out their account, got on his sled, never to be seen again.”

Those amazing eyes of hers widened. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“You never talked to your father again?”

“Never talked to him ever. Was too young to have a fuckin’ conversation with ‘im before he split.”

“So you’re in the same boat as I am.”

“Fuck no. Know his name. Ain’t lookin’ for his deadbeat ass.”

“Like you don’t have members in this club who aren’t deadbeat dads.”

Dex’s head jerked back at that. “Fuck no. The DAMC’s a family. Family’s fuckin’ important. Blood or not. Got me?”

“But your dad—”

Dex cut her off. “He split.”

“Right, but—”

“He fuckin’ split. ‘Nough said. Ain’t nothin’ thicker than DAMC blood. Nothin’.”

“So if my father’s still in this club and he knew about me...”

“Don’t think he is.”

“Are you sure?”

“Most of us ain’t old enough to be your pop. Already had this discussion. Grizz an’ Ace ain’t it. Doc an’ Rocky’s been in prison longer than you’ve been alive. The only one left who...”

No. No fucking way.

“The only one left who... what?”

He wasn’t even going to say it out loud, because it couldn’t be him. “Nothin’. Thinkin’ your pop’s long gone. That’s all. Or you’re wrong an’ your blood father ain’t an Angel.”

“I don’t think I’m wrong.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“Because of what I found under some old newspaper clippings that had to do with your club.”

“Which was?”

She hesitated a moment. Then after another long sip of her drink, she said, “Her diary.”

“Yeah? An’ it didn’t mention a name?”

She shook her head, her long hair brushing along the skin of her exposed collarbones. Skin he wanted to sink his teeth into as he was nailing her to a mattress.

“No. No name. I think there was a reason for it.”

“Why’s that?”

She took another sip of her Jack and Coke, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not ready to discuss details of my mother’s diary.”

“But you want info from me,” Dex stated with a frown.

“Yes. And some of your other club ‘brothers,’” she admitted.

Right. “Don’t work like that.”

She placed her glass on the bar. “Why not?”

“’Cause we don’t just spill shit to anyone who asks.”

“I’m not just anyone.”

“So you say. Don’t know that for sure.”

She turned slightly on her stool and surveyed the common room once more. “Maybe I just need to hang out with your club for a bit and get to know some of you better. Seems like you all don’t mind women hanging around.”

Dex glanced over at the sweet butts who were hanging all over Crash and Rig as they played pool. His eyes slid over to Tequila grinding her crotch against Rooster as they danced to some music being piped through the speakers from The Iron Horse. She was doing something she shouldn’t, like normal. Rooster knew better, too. Prospects couldn’t do sweet butts since they were off limits.

But right now, he didn’t give a fuck. It didn’t matter to him since he wouldn’t touch Tequila with a ten-foot dick. He had a feeling she did anyone in the club, prospects and hang-arounds alike. If Hawk, Z or Diesel caught her, her ass would be outside looking in.

“Ain’t one of those,” he muttered, then downed his whiskey in one swallow.

“What does that mean?”

“You ain’t one of those,” he clarified.

“One of what?”

He lifted his chin toward the pool tables. “Those.”

“Those women?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’s that?”

“You just ain’t.”

“Are they sweet butts?”

He kept his expression blank, but he was surprised she knew the term. “How do you know about ‘em?”

“Read it on the internet. Is it true? Do they just hang around and fuck any of your club members who want them?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you do any of them?”

Dex glanced over at Destiny and Roxy. He grimaced. Yeah, he had done them. In fact, one night he did both at the same time. “Nope.”

“You’re such a liar,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief.

Sure was, because he wasn’t fucking stupid. He wanted the woman who sat at the bar, not the ones hanging off Crash and Rig. He would be a fool to admit he’d done those sweet butts when they were standing not far from them. Right in Brooke’s view. So, fuck no, he wasn’t admitting to shit.

All that was in the past, anyway. His future sat right in front of him. Or at least his “future” which meant maybe tonight and the next few nights. If he was lucky.

Beyond that? Fuck no. He wasn’t looking for anything permanent. And he doubted Brooke wanted to become anyone’s ol’ lady. Or even a biker’s regular piece.

But right now, he was shooting high and hoping to hit the target.

“So, can I come along on this run Sunday?”

“The only bi... women who come along on our runs hafta earn a spot.”

She paused with her glass halfway to her lips. “What do I have to do to earn a spot?”

“More like who.”

She put her glass down on the bar without taking a drink. “You want me to sleep with you so I can go on a motorcycle ride? You’re fucking out of your mind.”

“Like I said, that spot has to be earned. Gotta be a regular piece or an ol’ lady. Three ways to get there.”

“I don’t think I want it that badly.”

Dex shrugged and poured himself another double. He tossed it back and slammed the shot glass on the bar. “Suit yourself. But everyone’s gonna be there.”

“You said there’s three ways to get there but only mentioned two.”

That he did. The third was an invite. Normally, just inviting some bitch to come along on the back of your sled was frowned upon. The runs weren’t for the women. They were for the brothers. Any woman who wasn’t a regular piece or an ol’ lady could wait back at church, or wherever they wanted to sit their ass down, until the run was over and the pig roast started.

“Yeah.”

“Are you going to share the last way?”

“Nope.”

She lifted a shoulder. “So I’ll come to the pig roast afterward.”

“Gotta be invited to that.”

“I already have my invite.”

He cocked a brow. “How’s that?”

“You invited me.”

Dex shook his head. “The fuck I did.”

“I heard it.”

“Need your ears cleaned out.”

“You asked. I accepted.”

Goddamn, this woman. “Now you’re lyin’.”

She gave him a big smile and tipped her head toward the pool table where Destiny and Roxy were. “Just like you did about fucking those women.”

He shrugged. “Just snatch.”

Suddenly, Brooke’s face changed from friendly and joking to dead serious. She slipped off the stool and grabbed her purse, which was sitting next to her drink.

“And you’re just a dick.”

Dex blinked. Then his feet felt like they were in quicksand as she marched back through the double doors of the kitchen, slamming them open with her palms.

“Fuck,” he muttered, then finally found he could move. He rushed after her and caught up as she slammed through the second set of swinging doors into The Iron Horse.

He didn’t bother to check to see if they were being watched or if they had an audience. Or if he looked like a fucking fool. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the front entrance of the bar.

She jerked her arm, but he didn’t release her. “Let me go.”

“No.”

“I don’t need you to walk me out.”

“Ain’t walkin’ you out.”

She jerked her wrist again, but he just tightened his grip. “Then what the hell are you doing?”

He pulled her outside into the dark, cold night, slamming the door behind them, then hesitated. “Which is your car?”

“Let. Me. Go.”

“Fuckin’ answer me. Which is your fuckin’ car?”

“If you let me go, I’ll show you.” She jerked her arm one more time.

He released her wrist and raised his palms up. “Show me.”

She hurried through the dark parking lot. Since the lot was full, she had to park at the very edge along a line of shrubs. She was digging in her purse at the same time taking lengthy strides with those mile-long legs of hers.

But he had no problem keeping up. She was tall but he was still taller than her. Still had more weight behind him. And he was a fucking man, goddamnit.

She stopped at a four-door BMW and hit her remote. It was too dark to tell the color but the lights flashed as the car unlocked. He snagged the remote from her hand before she could get around to the driver’s side.

“Hey!”

He hit the unlock button again on the remote and heard the locks release on the rest of the doors. He yanked open the back door and pointed. “Get in.”

Even in the dark, he could see her eyes widen.

“What? No.”

“Get the fuck in.”

“You have this misconception that you can give an order and I’ll listen.”

“Yeah.”

Her head jerked up higher as she stared at him. “Yeah?” He watched as she took a visible breath and her spine straighten. She pointed into the back of the car. “Get the fuck in the car.”

What? She was giving him orders?

“You want to play this game? This let’s-see-who’s-more-dominant game? I can play it.” She leaned in close. So close he could feel her warm breath across his lips. “I fucking eat that shit for breakfast. Now... Get. The. Fuck. In. The. Car.”

Dex’s heartbeat thumped heavily in his chest. What the fuck was going on here? He should be worried that this woman was crazy, and could shank him. Maybe she was going to do just that. Get him in the back of the car, tear his heart out with her bare hands, and drive away to go dump his body in some far away field.

She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her booted foot.

Fuck. His dick was rock hard thinking about her dominating him. Making him submit. “You gonna fuck me?”

“Get. In. The. Back. Seat.”

She didn’t say no. Fuck yeah.

The forcefulness of her tone, the hard look in her eyes from what he could see in the limited light...

All that shit turned him the fuck on.

He shrugged out of his cut, since he couldn’t wear it in the cage he was about to climb into. He leaned in and laid it carefully over the back of the driver’s seat.

Then he climbed in, wondering if he was making a big mistake.

But, hell, he might be getting laid. And he needed to bust a nut. Like soon. So if he was going to die? He was going to die a depleted, satisfied motherfucker.

Or he hoped that was the case.

He slid over to the middle of the back seat, leaving her room to follow. And, fuck him, if she didn’t.

She threw her jacket onto the front seat, climbed in after him, then slammed the door shut behind her and put out her hand. “Remote.”

He dropped it into her open palm and she hit a button that started the car and started blowing warm air.

Good idea since it was almost winter and he didn’t want any shrinkage.

Then she hit another button and all the locks clicked, securing them in together.

Another good idea.

Then she was on him, facing him, straddling his thighs, taking his mouth.

He groaned when her tongue forced its way into his mouth, taking control.

Fuck yeah, was all he could think.

He grabbed her ass and squeezed as she rode up and down on his lap, both of them still fully clothed.

Then she bit his bottom lip so hard, he grunted and tasted blood.

“Mine.”

What? What the fuck did she just say?

“Pants down. Hurry.” She ripped her blouse over her head and tossed it into the front seat, then moved off him, unzipping and yanking off her boots, shimmying her tight jeans over her thighs and down her calves, over her heels. “You’re not moving!” she yelled at him.

He jerked into action, his blood racing through his body, landing in his dick. He lifted his hips off the seat and unfastened his jeans, shoving them down as far as he could, which was only to his bent knees.

“You have tats on your chest?”

“Yeah.”

“Shirt off. I want to see them.”

This woman was crazy! And by removing his shirt, she was going to see something most of his brothers didn’t know he had.

But fuck it. He was going to get his rocks off by this smoking hot woman. And he didn’t give a shit what she saw.

He pulled his long-sleeved thermal over his head and threw it.

Then he grinned when her eyes dropped. She wasn’t looking at his dick. As magnificent as it truly was. Fuck no, she wasn’t.

She straddled his thighs again, her hot, slick pussy brushing against his twitching cock.

“Wasn’t expecting that,” she whispered, her voice so breathy that he almost came.

He tried to keep his voice from breaking when he asked, “Don’t like it?”

“Love it,” she murmured.

He grinned. Then threw his head back against the seat as she yanked on both of his nipple rings hard. All the oxygen left him on an “aaah, fuck.”

Then she dropped her head and sucked one of his nipples in her mouth, her tongue flicking the ring.

He thrust up against her wet pussy. She grabbed his other ring and twisted it, causing his back to bow away from the leather seat.

“Fuck yeah, babe,” he groaned.

Her tongue continued to tug and tease one pierced nipple, her fingers twisted the other harder. Almost to the point of pain.

But he wasn’t going to tell her to stop. Fuck no, he wasn’t.

His fingers dug into her ass as she rubbed against him, his dick sliding back and forth through her wet folds.

Fuck, he needed to come. But not on himself.

“Ride me,” he groaned.

She stopped everything she was doing. Just shut it all down and pulled back. “You don’t tell me what to do.”

Holy shit, this woman was crazy. But he fucking loved it.

A string of precum was sticking to his stomach, and his balls were so tight, he was about to blow. So if she didn’t do something soon, she was going to miss out on her chance to fuck him.

But maybe she didn’t want to fuck him.

Fuck.

No. Would she do that to him? Let him blow his load all over himself then just walk away?

That would be cruel and unusual punishment. Wouldn’t it? Fuck yeah, it would be!

He went solid when she reached down and held him in place, his dick throbbing in her hand as she rose up and...

“No wrap,” he groaned in a half-assed protest.

...sank down on him.