Junk had me unraveled. My gut was telling me to unleash all my adoration of him, my sadist self, the pent-up desire that had me panting. My demons wanted to come out to play. But it could be too much for him to handle. He was no lightweight, no softie, but still… When I got going I didn’t take it easy on a sub. And Junk, well, he’d been particularly badly behaved today. The defiant look in his eyes, the way he’d squeezed Rose’s tit, kissed her, the smart way he’d thought he could speak to me. My plan was to mark his skin, sink deep then have him in my arms, wrung out, satisfied and wearing my lust for him in streaks of red for days to come. It never failed to amaze me how lucky I’d been to find him. Gay bikers were few and far between, we weren’t welcome in most clubs. But I had to be true to myself. The sight of a broad male chest, roped muscles and the scent of testosterone-infused sweat was what yanked my chain, always had and always would.
