Page 21 of Dock

Two words.

That’s all it takes.

Two words and I’m shouting to the point my lungs are burning, and my legs are quaking and orgasmic juices are slathering themselves all along his rapidly working fingers, christening his claim.

Swearing an undivided sexual allegiance to him.

Which is crazy for two people who barely know each other.

But it feels right.

He feels right.

And being his student just might be the most right thing I’ve done for myself in a very long time.

Chapter 4

Hogan

“Dock”

Brody Rae – “Kegger” – firmly folds his dark mahogany arms across the front of his cut and keeps his attention focused ahead. “You’re late.”

“I’m here,” I retort upon leaning against the back of the building beside him, eyes locked onto the bed of the delivery truck being opened by one of the newest prospects – or Rugrats as we call them.

“Yeah,” he states, amusement more powerful than the moon lighting up the area, “but you’re late.”

The underlying message of his point has me tightening my jaw to remain silent.

Fuck, I get it.

I’m never late.

Not for work.

Never for club business.

This is a first.

And considering how close I was to coming in my jeans with Emaline – another first for me – I can’t ignore the idea that this might not be the last.

I should apologize.

But I can’t.

Won’t.

I got what I wanted.

Actually.

I got more than that.

I got something I didn’t even fucking know I needed.

A bit of something so sweet, so fucking addictive that I can barely keep my fingers away from my mouth, swearing I can still taste her on my tongue.

She watched me too.