He slid his finger along the edge of the lace that ran over the top of my cheek, and he didn’t stop even as it disappeared in my cleft.

I started panting.

“Dress off, Butterfly,” he growled.

Immediately, the area between my legs saturated with wet as I trembled against the door.

“Here?” I asked breathlessly.

“Now,” he answered.

In the minimal space provided, I pulled my dress off.

“Spread,” he grunted.

I shifted my legs apart and felt heat drench my private parts.

He slid his finger down, around, and through.

Oh yes.

My head fell back to his shoulder.

His other hand slid from my hip to my belly and up to cup my breast.

I turned my head and pressed my lips against his neck.

“Tonight, you gave good girlfriend to my friends, baby,” he whispered.

“Thanks,” I gasped as his fingers continued to glide between my legs.

“Now you’re gonna give it to me.”

“O-okay,” I stammered.

He rubbed my nipple through the lacy bra with his thumb and I whimpered.

Then he pulled away.

But only for a half a second before I was turned, lifted up, thrown over his shoulder, and he prowled through the dark kitchen, the dark house, to the bedroom, where he tossed me on the bed.

He turned the light on before he commenced fucking me.

But it was proved irrevocably true through those highly pleasant proceedings that he liked nice, cute, sexy underwear.

I was going to take back the outfits I didn’t wear. I loved them but one splurge was all I could handle.

But I was keeping the underwear.

All of it.

Definitely.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Start and Finish

Joker

THE NEXT MORNING, Joker was in Cherry’s office pouring a cup of coffee and about to nab a donut when his cell went.

He put the coffee down, pulled out his phone, and looked at the display.

Tack had texted.

Slade. ASAP. No weapons.

Joker clenched his teeth and left the coffee where it was. Cherry was there but in the garage talking to someone.

Which meant he didn’t have to delay getting on his bike by saying goodbye.

So he didn’t.

He headed off of Chaos and onto Broadway, knowing what Tack’s text meant.

Slade was the nightclub Knight Sebring owned.

Sebring had heard about Heidi.

And he was pissed.

Knight Sebring was loaded. On the surface of it, and Joker suspected some of that leaked into his skin, he was also total class.

But if you hurt a woman, he’d slit your throat, do it personally, and walk away forgetting you existed.

Contradictory to this, he had a stable of call girls.

He was not a pimp.

He was a protector.

Joker was no financial genius, but he knew Sebring made his money off that club. A lot of money. The man sold more drinks in a night than any other bar or restaurant in downtown Denver. And even if his cover charge was insane, night after night, the place was heaving.