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“A beast and a demon, sounds like a perfect match,” I joke.
He takes my hand in his. “Come on, before I bend you over my weights bench and fuck you,” he states.
At this point, I wouldn’t mind that. Entering the kitchen, he spins around and picks me up. “No! Beast don’t, I’m too heavy,” I protest, tensing. He ignores me and lifts me with ease, seating me on the kitchen counter before he kisses me again.
“Don’t ever let me hear you say that again,” he states.
“But I am heavy,” I state.
“You’re nothing but perfect,” he states while opening the fridge. After pulling out some eggs, bacon and fruit, he moves around the kitchen, placing the bacon in a pan. He then begins to crack some eggs in a bowl and whisking them before he starts chopping up some fruit.
“So, you’re a bit of a health nut?” I state.
His eyes come to mine. “No darlin’, I just appreciate good food and home cooking.”
I smile. “Did your mom teach you how to cook?” I ask.
His smile falls and he shakes his head. “My mom was a useless bitch, and my old man wasn’t much better. Mrs. Neal taught me how to cook some stuff, and the rest I learnt on my own,” he answers.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I—” I pause, not really knowing what to say.
He stops chopping the fruit and places himself between my legs. He reaches behind me and places his hands on my back, stroking them up and down. “Don’t apologise for my shitty upbringing. My father beat me, and he beat my mom. They were both drunks. They didn’t feed me. I survived on scraps from the dumpster or what Mrs. Neal fed me. I learned some from her, and the rest I learned on my own,” he explains.
My heart aches for him, for what he went through growing up. “Sounds like this Mrs. Neal was an angel.” I smile.
His eyes warm. “She was. She took me in, and she fed me when she had hardly anything herself. As soon as I was old enough to work, I would give her my wages to help her.” He lets out a small laugh. “But fuck me, that woman could hit.” He laughs, shaking his head. “If I gave her any shit, she would hand me my ass.”
“How come you joined the MC?” I ask.
He smiles. “I was getting shit from my boss, at a crappy garage I worked at. He was chewing my ass out because I refused to do a temporary fix on a car. It was his thing; do a temporary fix, charge the customers for a full fix, then they would be back within the month with the same issue, where he would then do a full fix, charging them double.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, Ghost rode in with a couple of the brothers. He wanted some oil or something, I can’t remember. My boss tried to say he had shit wrong with his bike, trying to scam him, and Ghost called him out on it. My boss went nuts, tried to use me as his muscle. Instead, I asked if they had space for me, and that was it.” He shrugs. Leaning forward, he places a kiss on my nose before returning his attention back to the bacon.
Sitting down and eating breakfast together, on our own without the loud chatter and laughter of the rest of the club feels extremely intimate. I find myself wondering what I should say. I feel like I’m on a proper date. Which is ironic considering I had his dick in my mouth last night.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
He places a fork full of eggs into his mouth and smirks. “What do you think it is?” he counters. Taking a sip of his coffee, his playful blue eyes light with mischief.
I shake my head. “Um, Gerald,” I suggest.
He leans back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head. “Guess again,” he states, a smile playing on his lips.
I shrug. “I don’t know. It could literally be anything. Can you at least tell me what it starts with?” I plead.
“How about we make this interesting?” he suggests. Leaning forward on his elbows, he rubs his thumb along his bottom lip.
I smile and nod. “You’re on.”
He stands, and before I can process what’s happening, he lifts me onto the dining table. “What are you…?”
He then lowers to his knees before me and glides his hands up my calves, going right past my knees, where he pushes my legs apart. I have no underwear on, and his eyes flicker to between my legs before he slowly licks his lips.
Pausing, he looks up at me. “Like the game Hangman, but instead for every letter you guess correctly, I will reward you. The closer you get to getting it right, the closer I will get to the grand prize,” he states.
“I thought you weren’t going to touch me,” I breathe.
“Yeah well, that was until I had a taste of you last night,” he answers.
“But I’m on your dining table. People eat here,” I mutter.
