Free Careful What You Ask For by Candace Blevins

loyal to a fault and never cheat, once they settle down. If his dad had cheated, did that mean he wasn’t a werewolf?
    “I was born. My dad had fallen in love with someone else in the months between when my mom left Ireland and he found out she was pregnant. He turned his back on his true love to do what was right by mom. The other woman married someone else and they stayed away from each other, but when her husband was killed, my dad went to her to comfort her and… well, it’s a sad story all around.”
    “ Fuck . Did your mom remarry?”
    He shook his head. “She’s recently made contact with her best friend from high school, and she’s been driving to Atlanta and spending time with her. I’m hoping with the two of them doing things together, she might meet someone.” He looked around the kitchen, and back to me. “What’s the deal with the farmhouse? It’s well constructed, but old. The cell in the basement’s pretty ancient, and possibly one of the most valuable things on the property.”
    “It was her late husband’s grandparents’ farm and home, and he bit her so I assume the grandparents were set up to take in all of the grandkids as they hit puberty, since most of their kids moved to the city. Her husband was willed the farm and house, and she lived here with her husband until he was killed at work. The company says he didn’t follow safety protocol and fell into the smelter, but Maggie thinks someone pushed him in.” I shrugged. “She says she couldn’t prove anything, so she barely got enough money from the company to pay off their debts.”
    I finished putting the banana pudding together, put plastic wrap over it, and stuck it in the fridge so I could put the peach cobbler together. The cake portion of the Mississippi mud cake would be ready to come out of the oven about the time the cobbler went in, and then I could put together the toppings for it and slather them on top.
    “Angelica is Bash’s ol’lady, right?”
    I nodded and he kept his back to me as he washed the large mixing bowl. “I thought the ol’ladies didn’t associate with the sweetbutts.”
    “Which MC have you hung around?” Most civilians don’t know about ol’ladies and sweetbutts.
    “My uncle was in one, in Ireland. Lost my virginity to a sweetbutt.”
    “There’s a pecking order in all MCs, but you don’t need to know where I fit into it with the RTMC.”
    “Okay. No pressure, but I want you to be aware I know how things are behind closed doors in an MC. I haven’t joined one, but when I was thirteen I thought I wanted to join my Uncle’s club as soon as I was old enough.”
    “And yet you say you want to spend time with me once you don’t have to anymore?”
    “You were right about the double-standard. You like sex, and you found a way to get a lot of it and stay relatively safe. You’re nineteen and — as you said — still figuring out what you want to be when you grow up. You own a car and you have an apartment, and you were able to save enough so you can keep what you have if you can’t work for a few months.” He set the bowl on the draining rack and turned to me. “No judgements. I just want to know what you like, what turns you on, what you do and don’t have experience with.”
    I was quiet as I considered my response, and he gave me time to put it together. I really didn’t feel right talking to him about the MC, but after he’d basically just told me he’d accept me even though I’ve been passed around a bunch of bikers, I should probably give him something .
    “If you have specific questions to ask about my experiences, without bringing the MC into it, I’ll try to answer them. No promises, but… I’m willing to give it a go.”
    “Spanked with a hand?”
    “Yes.”
    “How about you answer yes or no, and then what you liked or disliked about it? Or, maybe just whether you liked it or not, if that’s too much?”
    “Okay — yes, and I liked it, but only because it wasn’t