Page 29 of Cash

“What do you do that’s so incomprehensible?”

“The first rule of being an Ol’ Lady – not that this is headed there – is that you never ask about club business. Club business is the club’s business, and no one else’s.”

I gave him a deer in the headlights look. “Club business?”

“What the club does. One of the men might share something he’s done – or does – but they’ll never share what the club does. Sharing the club’s activities is forbidden.”

“I see.” After quick consideration, I shrugged. “I don’t have a problem with that.”

“That’s what everyone thinks until their Ol’ Man comes home covered in someone else’s blood, or with a bullet lodged in his shoulder.”

“Not that this is headed there,” I said mockingly. “But if I was in a relationship with a biker similar to the type you’re describing, and he showed up covered in blood, I’d naturally be concerned. As far as questions went, if asking was off-limits, I wouldn’t ask,” I assured him. “I guess that’d be part of my commitment to him.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” One eyebrow raised. “If I’m ever looking to venture into the relationship world, that is.”

“For now, let’s just keep it simple,” I said.

He nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

“If you want company, let me know,” I said. “If I’m free, we’ll see what happens.”

He gestured toward the kitchen with his eyes. “What about that meal? How’s a guy go about getting another one of those?”

“All he’s got to do is ask.”

“Don’t be surprised if that request comes sooner than later,” he said with a smile.

Five minutes earlier, I sucked his dick like we were auditioning for the porn Olympics. He could tell himself whatever he wanted to, but when he returned next, it wouldn’t be for the meal.

For the time being, I owned him.

He simply wasn’t willing to admit it.

At least not yet.