Page 14 of Conan
When I open up my screen, I release a cheshire grin.
Kodiak: We’ve got the intel I’ve been waiting on. Church tomorrow, ten a.m.
Me: I’ll be there.
Finally! Finally, I can neutralize her biggest threat before taking out the man and woman who were supposed to provide her a safe, loving home.
Sliding back into her back, I pull her into the curve of my body and wind my legs with hers. Whispering into her ear, I tell her, “Soon, baby. Soon you won’t have to look over your shoulder. Sleep, I’ve got you.”
I nestle into her hair, breathing in her fragrance and let it lull me back to sleep, my hard dick forgotten. When she begins to purr, her body relaxing into me as if I’m her safety net, the reason for her never being scared to give into the darkness, has my preferences switching gears. I am not chained to my dick, he isn’t in charge, I am.
Her breathing evens back out from my shuffling of her limp body and a deep sleep claims her. I soon follow, knowing that tomorrow we’ll get things in order so we can ride out. That helps me keep things prioritized.
I didn’t lie to Demi, her happiness is my number one focus, not me, never me. I will slay all of her dragons and send her demons back to Hell, even if it’s the last thing I do on this earth.
CHAPTER
SIX
DEMI
Conan has always hada rule when it came to his bike, unless he’s serious about you in the relationship and you are old lady material in his eyes, you didn’t ride on the back of it. Imagine my surprise this morning when he woke me up and told me to get dressed. He had a requirement for my attire of blue jeans, boots, thick shirt, and after he listed those things, he walked into my closet, pulled out my old leather jacket that'd seen better days, and tossed it on the bed as I was dressing.
Curiosity getting the better of me, I ask, “Am I riding with you today?”
He stops in his steps and peers over at me from over his shoulder, asking, “Are you mine?”
“Yes,” I answer, feeling bold and sassy, I tack on, “according to you, I am.”
“Only according to me, huh?” He’s not offended by my choice of words, if anything, he’s amused. This is why he’s the man I’vedecided to give a shot because he simply gets me and doesn’t let my hard exterior and lack of verbiage control wind him up.
“No,” I whisper, hiding the smile fighting to break out. “Me too.”
“Now that it’s settled, could you get a move on? I’ve got church and I want to pull up to the clubhouse with you on the back of my bike,” he states.
“A statement, huh? That’s mighty bold of you.” I smirk.
“An important one, Demi. And it’s not bold, it’s essential to your status.”
“I know, Conan. I’ve been around, I understand how things work in the MC.” The ‘essential’ part of his announcement is because it’ll show the club bitches that I rank way above them and they need to watch their steps as well as what they say to not only me, but about me.
To the Deviant Knights, that’s a big deal. I can hold my own, fuck knows I’ve trained for anything coming at me in a physical way, but I’m no longer living solo in my world so I have to let him be in charge—sometimes.
“Then you know why it’s a needed one,” he grunts. “Stop stalling, woman. I’ve gotta get to church.”
“I’m moving, I’m moving,” I chime, hastening my steps. Since he hasn’t given me a lot of time to do my ‘girly’ routine, I slap some powder on my face, toss on some eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss before plaiting my hair. This is as good as it gets when I’m running behind and on a time crunch. Again, not my fault because he let me oversleep knowing we had to be on the road no later than nine.
A lady can make herself look decent enough to walk out the door in twenty minutes, but it takes time if she wants to be a showstopper. And I’m definitely not that right now.
“Ta da,” I sing as I twirl around once I make it to the living room, jacket tossed over my forearm as I walk over to my purse, pulling out my keys and wallet, pocketing them.
Arms wrap around me from behind, banding themselves around me as I’m tightly pulled into his chest. “I like you this way. More natural. Your beauty shining through all of that caked up shit you slather on your face, fucking gorgeous, Demi.”
“Thank you,” I choke out in a low tone. The things he says to me and the way he speaks to me is unlike anyone before.
Man, woman, and child, nobody has made me feel good about myself, until him.
I’ve been placated and lied to, mostly by those of the opposite sex who want a night or two wedged between my legs, but Conan is sincere in everything he says—you just know he means it. He isn’t known for holding back his thoughts, if he doesn’t like something, he says he doesn’t, if he does, well, you know that in different ways, like now. He makes himself known.
