Page 87 of Biker's Enemy
“It ain’t in the middle of Russia or something?”
I make a private mental note to remain in control of Avery’s education — and our future children. I might have to trick Tanner into sitting in on some of the classes too.
“We could move to California.”
“No fucking way,” he says. “After this, I need a break from club business. I want it to be just us… and Avery… and… any future kids we might have.”
Just mentioning future kids makes his dick jump. I can feel the giant thing moving in his pants. His dick jumping at the word “kids” feels threatening, but Tanner hasn’t hidden his intentions for a second. He wants to get me pregnant. Tanner has never hidden his bizarre motivations. He leans forward, pressing his nose into my neck and sending a ticklish jolt of pleasure straight through me.
He sticks his tongue out and presses it along the side of my neck.
“I could tattoo you right there,” he growls. The spot of spit on my neck tingles from the cool air conditioning when he pulls away. The gush between my thighs completely defies the words that spill out of my mouth.
“I’m not letting you tattoo that crazy shit on my neck.”
“Fine,” he says, wrinkling his eyebrows. “I’ll have an artist get it done.”
He touches the wet spot and makes a big circle with his fingers. I’m guessing Tanner’s delusional ass thinks that’s where he’s going to tattoo me? This man has lost his damn mind. I try to wriggle my neck away from him, but Tanner reacts with lightning speed. His hand fits firmly around my neck like a necklace. He doesn’t squeeze, just holds me in place firmly.
He could squeeze. And he definitely wants me to know that. But for now, he’s just holding me in place and demonstrating his power and control over me. Power and control that I give to him freely despite knowing he’s a crazy ass redhead with a strong lust for plus-sized women and knocking them up. At least knocking me up…
One hand on my ass, the other hand on my neck. The dominant position gets Tanner rock hard.
“Are you going to fight me, sugar plum?”
I can’t move my head, but I can still move my eyebrows. I can give Tanner the defiance he pretends to hate so damn much… I make the most disapproving facial expression I can.
“Yes.”
“Okay,” he says. “Give me something and I’ll let you pick the spot.”
“Is that your idea of compromise?” I ask him, fully skeptical that Tanner has any sanity left. Now that he has me in his clutches, he really thinks I’m going to go along with this tattoo. I still have Juliette on speed dial and her husband is letting her take flight lessons – on a simulator while she’s pregnant.
“Yes,” Tanner says, nodding mischievously. “No way in hell I’m letting my woman around those dogs without a tattoo.”
“I’m a homebody. I’ll gladly stay home.”
Tanner smacks my ass with his free hand. Hard. I scream loudly and then his hand tightens around my throat just enough to turn the scream into a squeak. He relaxes his hand when I wriggle my butt desperately in an effort to escape his cruel combination of spanking me and squeezing my throat.
“What is wrong with you?”
“Showing you what could happen if you hang around a bunch of bikers without a mark.”
“I already said I won’t be around any bikers.”
Wrong answer again. Are we going to be here all night?
“You’re okay with another man touching your ass?” Tanner accuses, his grip on my ass tightening to the point of violence. At least his grasp on my throat remains tame… for now.
“When did I say that?”
A flicker of worry crosses his face. “I don’t want you away from me for too long and if I have you close, I need you safe.”
“This is not about my safety. This is about some hypermasculine bullshit.”
“I’m not hyper,” Tanner says. “I’m thinking this shit through.”
His hand moves from my neck and he touches my collarbone.