Page 15 of Conan
When he pulls back, he laces his fingers with mine and escorts me out of the apartment, locks it up, tests the door several times to make sure it’s secure, and hand in hand, we get to his bike where he reaches into his saddle bag and pulls out a second helmet.
“I got this a while back,” he informs me. “Gotta protect that noggin of yours.”
“My noggin thanks you,” I tell him, reaching out and plucking it from his hands. From there, he gives me the important do’s and don'ts with the piping and how to hold onto him. After being educated on that topic, he secures the helmet to my head, the entire time a blinding smile paints his face. This makes him happy, so I decide then and there, that anytime we go someplace together—we ride.
As we glide into the clubhouse parking lot, we pull in with an audience in attendance. I chuckle, because somehow, I know he’s planned it to play out this way. My thoughts are confirmed when he swings his leg over and holds out his hand for me. When I accept it, he helps me off, removes the helmet, and lays a scorching kiss on my lips.
“Marking your territory?” I tease, unable to keep the smile from that declaration at bay. It’s plastered across my face wide and proud.
“Just be glad I didn’t whip my dick out and pee on you,” he jokes.
“You’re kidding, right? You wouldn’t really do that. Right, Conan?” I need him to clarify that shit for me—as soon as humanly possible because I’m kinda freaking out at the prospect of finding myself the recipient of a golden shower.
“If the situation called for it, I would,” he says, and the cherry on top of that sundae is that he’s one-hundred percent serious.
Leaning into him so nobody else can hear what I’m about to say, I hiss, “Try it. I dare you. You’d be one ball short and an inch or two shorter.”
“All I need is one ball, Demi. And size doesn’t matter, and while we’re on that subject, I have more than the typical man so losing a little length won’t make a difference.”
“You’re insane, Conan. You need to seek medical help. Stat.” I don’t comment on his size because he’s more than standard, he’s right about that, but I refuse to say anything that’ll have him gloating.
“Nah, baby. I’m not insane, I’m confident and know what I’m packing,” he reasons.
“Church!” Kodiak bellows, his head hung as his shoulders shake from his chuckling.
I let go of Conan’s hand and march past his brother, hissing, “I’m glad you find this amusing, Kodiak.”
“You’re good for him, you know that don’t you?” Kodiak asks. “You keep him in check and bring him down on the same level as the rest of us.”
“He is so full of himself,” I mumble. “I often wonder if he’s going to float away from his inflated ego.”
“It’s a protective mechanism,” Kodiak enlightens me. “You can thank my parents for him being the way he is.”
“I can hear y’all you know,” Conan expresses, coming up behind us and smacking my ass before jogging off, head thrown back in laughter.
I rub my rump and shoot daggers at him with my eyes. “He’s impossible.”
“He’ll never change,” Kodiak warns me. “But if anyone can reel him back, it’s you.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a job I’d have chosen for myself,” I counter.
“But it’s yours. You agreed to it, am I right?” Kodiak asks, being cheeky.
“Shut up,” I snap, shaking my head. “Where’s Luna?”
“Did you agree, Demi?” he continues, stopping us and twirling me around to face me. “He did ask, Demi. Fuck, please say he asked.”
“He did, I accepted. What can I say, Kodiak, I was high on endorphins.”
“Leave it up to Conan to hit you up when you’re in a state of sexual bliss to ask you that,” he sighs. “Nevertheless, you said yes so you’re stuck with him, Demi. Prepare yourself, it’s going to be the rockiest ride of your life.”
“That’s not funny, Kodiak. Take it back,” I demand, stomping my foot.
“I’m afraid there are no take backs when it comes to my baby brother, Demi. Trust me, I demanded my parents return him to the stork, they refused telling me there are no returns once a baby has been delivered.”
“Damn stork,” I snort, finding our conversation hilarious. “Where’s Luna? You failed to tell me after I asked earlier.”
“She’s in the kitchen. Something about missing the smell of cake,” he informs me, a confused look on his face. “I don’t get it, just yesterday I picked one up for her from the bakery she likes and she devoured it in one sitting. You can’t miss something you’ve just had.”
