“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Less talking, more moving.”
I sighed, letting her lead me into the alley behind the clubhouse. Cardboard boxes were piled up next to the dumpster back here, and a single light bulb above the rear exit glowed with a wan, yellow light.
“Take off your pants,” she said, hands on her hips.
I huffed a dry laugh.
“This is either my greatest fantasy or my worst nightmare, depending on what comes next.”
She rolled her eyes and stepped forward, unhooking my belt.
“Fine. If you’re going to dawdle, I’ll have to do it myself.”
“Lila, no.” All humor had vanished from my voice. I caught her wrists, holding them away from me. “I meant it when I said you don’t owe me anything. This was my decision. I chose to sell my bike.”
“Why?” she protested. “You loved that damn thing. It’s been with you since you were a Prospect.”
Releasing Lila’s wrists, I cupped her face in my hands.
“Because I made a promise to your dad. He put himself in debt with his enemy to protect his club, to protect you. And I get it now. I completely understand why he did that. Was it stupid? Yeah, a little. But I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you or any of my brothers on my watch. Selling my bike is a sacrifice I’m willing to make, again and again, as long as it means that no one gets hurt.”
Lila chewed the inside of her cheek as she studied my face, listening.
“I didn’t do it so you’d sleep with me, Lila,” I said. “As much as I would love to hold it over your head, you don’t owe me a damn thing. Is that clear?”
She lowered her gaze and nodded.
Then she reached for my belt again, more gently this time.
“Lila, I said—”
“Shut up,” she replied, flicking a sharp glance at me. “I heard you. But I’m sober now. And we have unfinished business.”
I took a breath to protest then broke off with a groan as Lila wrapped her fingers around my cock.
“This doesn’t mean anything, remember?” she insisted.
I nodded, pressing back against the brick wall as I thrust my hips into her grasp. Lila dipped her head, sucking at my pulse. She squeezed and stroked my cock, twisting her wrist over the crown with perfect pressure to make my knees shake.
“I thought you weren’t—fuck—” I croaked, fighting to focus long enough to get my words out. “I thought you weren't impressed with my toothpick dick?”
Lila hummed with amusement.
“Are you fishing for compliments right now?”
“Just hoping you might admit that you were wrong for once.”
She laughed, low and soft as she nibbled at my jawline. I swore under my breath. My world narrowed to the wet heat of her mouth and the steady rhythm of her grip.
“Don’t hold your breath. That will never happen as long as I live.”
Then she crouched down, eyes bright as she licked along my length. I dropped my head back with a moan. She closed her lips around my cock, dragging her tongue in slow circles.
“Fuck, Lila,” I rasped.
She slid her hand under my shirt, digging her nails into my abs with a burn. I cupped the back of her head as she sucked, licked, and swallowed until I was delirious with pleasure. Every muscle trembled with my impending orgasm, ready to explode at any moment.