Read Online Slate (Rebel Wayfarers MC) by MariaLisa deMora - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: MariaLisa deMora
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so he could figure out his gas stops.
Might as well get it over with , he realized. The way his mind was leaning, he’d be leaving in the morning, and he didn’t want Jen to look for him. He wasn’t a total dick; at least, he hoped he wasn’t. “Baby, we’ve had a fun time,” he started, “but I’m headed west in the morning.” He rolled onto his side to face her in time to see relief wash across her face, and thought, what the fuck ?
She swallowed. “Okay, Andy, be careful.” She sat up on the edge of the bed, reaching down for her panties and skirt.
“Jen, what the fuck? Am I an asshole or something?” he asked. Breaking his own rule, he raised his hand to trail his fingers down her back, watching as the shivers and goose bumps hit her at the same time. “Huh? Am I?” he prodded.
She took a deep breath before standing to pull her clothes on. “No, Andy, you aren’t an asshole. You are a capable lover, but—”
“Fuck me... capable ?” he interrupted her. “Capable? Is that right? How many times did you come today, Jen? Was it three, or four times?”
She looked down at him as she continued dressing. “Oh, you are an exceptional fuck, Andy, but you aren’t ever here emotionally. As a lover, there is a lack of connection. Orgasms are great—don’t get me wrong—I like a good, big O like the next woman, but I also want the tactile sensations of running my hands over my lover’s body, during and after sex.”
She shrugged, amused at his open-mouthed surprise. “I don’t mind a little dominance in bed, but there should be some give and take. I want to know my lover is thinking of me, not counting my orgasms in order to notch some stick.” She leaned over the bed, kissing his forehead. “Sometimes, it needs to be about the build, you know? It should be about the back and forth of the journey, not just the final destination. If life is only ever about the ultimate result, then it can be exhausting instead of invigorating.” She touched his cheek, cupping his jaw in her hand to kiss his lips briefly, chastely. “Be safe, Andy.” Then she was gone, the door closing softly behind her.
“Fuck me,” he muttered, getting up to lock the door. Shaking his head, he flopped back on the bed, but tossed and turned for a time before sleep rose to claim him. His dreams were filled with unending roads, trees casting shadows and letting light through in turns, with something always just out of sight around the next bend.
Getting up the next morning, he was ready in minutes, letting the front desk know he was leaving. He gassed and serviced the Indian, making one final stop prior to hitting the road. He pulled into the parking lot at the tattoo place and took a deep breath before walking inside. He’d wanted a tattoo for a while, but had been afraid he’d wimp out. Several hours later, he walked out with plastic adhered to his shoulder and his ribs, feeling pretty good about his decision to leave Colorado Springs, and also his choice to permanently remember the most important lessons he’d learned so far in life.
Pulling up his shirt, he looked at the block-lettered wor ds on the ribs on his left side, The journey is the reward, in stark black. He thought for a second about going by the truck stop and showing Jen, but then laughed viciously at himself, remembering she had been relieved he was leaving. He’d take her lesson to heart, and the tat would always remind him there was more to learn, and he needed to slow down and take it all in.
Dropping the hem of his shirt, he pulled up his left sleeve, seeing the angel with the bowed head, naked sword in one hand, gun in the other, arms and body flexed and tense. Wrapped tightly in its own gossamer wings, the sentinel was looking down at the words under its feet, which were supporting it, My Brother’s Keeper .
Andy nodded to himself, pulling his sleeve down and shrugging on his jacket. Slinging a leg over the bike, he quickly took stock and decided
Might as well get it over with , he realized. The way his mind was leaning, he’d be leaving in the morning, and he didn’t want Jen to look for him. He wasn’t a total dick; at least, he hoped he wasn’t. “Baby, we’ve had a fun time,” he started, “but I’m headed west in the morning.” He rolled onto his side to face her in time to see relief wash across her face, and thought, what the fuck ?
She swallowed. “Okay, Andy, be careful.” She sat up on the edge of the bed, reaching down for her panties and skirt.
“Jen, what the fuck? Am I an asshole or something?” he asked. Breaking his own rule, he raised his hand to trail his fingers down her back, watching as the shivers and goose bumps hit her at the same time. “Huh? Am I?” he prodded.
She took a deep breath before standing to pull her clothes on. “No, Andy, you aren’t an asshole. You are a capable lover, but—”
“Fuck me... capable ?” he interrupted her. “Capable? Is that right? How many times did you come today, Jen? Was it three, or four times?”
She looked down at him as she continued dressing. “Oh, you are an exceptional fuck, Andy, but you aren’t ever here emotionally. As a lover, there is a lack of connection. Orgasms are great—don’t get me wrong—I like a good, big O like the next woman, but I also want the tactile sensations of running my hands over my lover’s body, during and after sex.”
She shrugged, amused at his open-mouthed surprise. “I don’t mind a little dominance in bed, but there should be some give and take. I want to know my lover is thinking of me, not counting my orgasms in order to notch some stick.” She leaned over the bed, kissing his forehead. “Sometimes, it needs to be about the build, you know? It should be about the back and forth of the journey, not just the final destination. If life is only ever about the ultimate result, then it can be exhausting instead of invigorating.” She touched his cheek, cupping his jaw in her hand to kiss his lips briefly, chastely. “Be safe, Andy.” Then she was gone, the door closing softly behind her.
“Fuck me,” he muttered, getting up to lock the door. Shaking his head, he flopped back on the bed, but tossed and turned for a time before sleep rose to claim him. His dreams were filled with unending roads, trees casting shadows and letting light through in turns, with something always just out of sight around the next bend.
Getting up the next morning, he was ready in minutes, letting the front desk know he was leaving. He gassed and serviced the Indian, making one final stop prior to hitting the road. He pulled into the parking lot at the tattoo place and took a deep breath before walking inside. He’d wanted a tattoo for a while, but had been afraid he’d wimp out. Several hours later, he walked out with plastic adhered to his shoulder and his ribs, feeling pretty good about his decision to leave Colorado Springs, and also his choice to permanently remember the most important lessons he’d learned so far in life.
Pulling up his shirt, he looked at the block-lettered wor ds on the ribs on his left side, The journey is the reward, in stark black. He thought for a second about going by the truck stop and showing Jen, but then laughed viciously at himself, remembering she had been relieved he was leaving. He’d take her lesson to heart, and the tat would always remind him there was more to learn, and he needed to slow down and take it all in.
Dropping the hem of his shirt, he pulled up his left sleeve, seeing the angel with the bowed head, naked sword in one hand, gun in the other, arms and body flexed and tense. Wrapped tightly in its own gossamer wings, the sentinel was looking down at the words under its feet, which were supporting it, My Brother’s Keeper .
Andy nodded to himself, pulling his sleeve down and shrugging on his jacket. Slinging a leg over the bike, he quickly took stock and decided
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