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“Well, not really.” Princess chews the inside of her cheek and drops her hand, then glances around for I’m guessing her ol’ man.
This whole situation has grown uncomfortable. I just want to greet the guys and get a glass of lemonade from Blaze. Maybe have him add some vodka, so I forget this ever happened. Mercenary doesn’t seem as convinced of everything, though, and this could be a problem.
“Then let me make myself clear,” he states, his voice a deep, commanding timbre. “I’m getting a beer.” He points to my boobs. “And then I’m fucking her. Maybe if she’s good at giving head, I’ll let her stick around and suck me off in the morning too.”
Princess snorts. Apparently this is his first run-in with the Ice Queen. She’s sweet, but she doesn’t take one ounce of shit from any of the guys. She tells it how it is, regardless. And I love her for it.
I have no freaking idea how to react. Sinner warned me that the club has certain rules that you follow around here. I just stand still and swallow, dumbstruck. This ginormous, gorgeous man just demanded that I let him fuck me, and frankly, I’m at a loss for words. He reminds me of a caveman, and it wouldn’t surprise me if his next line is, “Me man, you woman.”
“Brother, that bitch is on mine and Saint’s cocks; no one else’s.” Sinner steps to my side, crossing his arms over his chest.
It’s vulgar, but surprisingly, it offers me a touch of comfort having him beside me, defending my honor. If anyone around here wasn’t one hundred percent sure we’re sleeping together, well, now it’s been announced. There’s no room for speculation as he’s proclaimed quite clearly that I’m indeed not just having sex with one, but both of them. I’m sure my face is flaming as it’s suddenly way too warm in this room for me.
Saint appears on the other side and flings Mercenary’s hand off my shoulder. “She’s not a fucking club whore,” he declares with a scowl pointed in the new brother’s direction.
“I don’t see a motherfuckin’ property patch anywhere on her back. Is this how you do things down in Texas? Stake claim on bitches without putting your patch on ‘em?”
Sinner’s jaw tightens and flexes as he grits his teeth. His irises change to an obsidian hue, reflecting his annoyance. “We do things however the fuck we wanna around here. This is Texas.”
His hand lands on my shoulder in the same spot the other guy was just touching. “In saying that, it means don’t touch what doesn’t belong to you. I don’t offer second warnings,” he finishes, leaning over and plants a kiss on my temple. It’s more of a Saint move, but I enjoy it nonetheless.
He and Saint are in such a serious stare down with Mercenary, I’m a little concerned that I’ll be peed on next to stake a further claim. I wish this guy would get the drift and just back off. No such luck; this battle of testosterone means whipping out your dick to see whose is bigger at the moment, it seems.
“So, you two share with each other, but not anyone else, huh? Sounds like some stingy motherfuckers, but all right. I’m not that hard up for some pussy, Chi town gave it up easily. Besides, she’ll eventually come my way. If I’ll have her at that point, is another story.”
Saint straight up snarls, his body on edge with anticipation for a fight.
Viking makes his way over, noticing Princess’ shocked expression. He strategically places himself between the puffed-up chests about to throw down. “What’s the fucking issue over here?” he gripes, clearly not in the mood for anyone to argue.
“Not a fuckin’ thing.” Mercenary shrugs, meeting the Prez eye for eye. The guy has balls; Viking’s kind of scary, in my opinion. He has that craziness about him you don’t want to push, but it doesn’t seem to faze Mercenary.
Sinner addresses Viking. “Prez, let this pup know that Jude is mine and Sinner’s.”
I nearly snort at his request. I’m theirs? I like the sound of that, but at the same time, it almost leaves him in a gruff whine. I’d never imagined Sinner being someone to ask for something. He’s always struck me as the type to take and do as he pleases.
I guess Viking really is the boss around here.
“I’m not your goddamn babysitter,” he huffs glancing from Sinner to Saint and then turns back to Mercenary’s gaze. “In saying that, you have any clue who you’re pissing off right now? You know we were all NOMADS at one point, right?”
“I’ve heard.”
“Nightmare will light your ass on fire for a laugh. Saint and Sinner? Those crazy fuckers will string you up and Sinner will fuck with your head while Saint pokes holes in your flesh.”
Saint leans over, kissing my forehead kindly, making it hard for me to believe he’s capable of the things their president claims. Sure, he’s rough around the edges, but poke holes in the guy? I’m not one hundred percent sure I’d go that far.
Viking continues. “Torch,” he grunts. “That brother’s name tells all. Blaze, well, let’s just say my club has a thing for fire and sharp objects as well as our fists. I’m not getting in your shit, but don’t show up at my club, stirring the pot with the veteran members. Trust me when I say these fuckers are just as crazy as your ass is, or even more so.” he finishes, then tucks Princess under his arm and walks toward the bar, Odin hot on their heels.
Sinner’s brow rises, waiting for Mercenary to make the next move.
“Don’t take too long you two,” he mutters. “’Cause she’s just my type.” He flicks one last glance at me from top to bottom and then follows Viking to the bar to get that beer he spoke of.
Sinner meets Saint’s serious gaze and grumbles under his breath, just loud enough for me to make out his threat. “And you have a fuckin’ death wish if you think I’m going to let you have her.”
