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The old me would have jumped at the opportunity to socialize. But the old me was dead. He died when I heard my little sister scream for the very last time.
“Your men don’t speak?” one of the Asian guys spoke up. He seemed to be the oldest of the Khan brothers and the one in charge.
“We speak,” Vern told him, not bothered in the slightest by his rude and out-of-line question. “Just no reason for us to do so.”
He looked at me next. I simply arched a brow at him. The fuck did he want me to say? I didn’t know him, and I didn’t owe him shit. He grunted and looked back at Ink, shaking his hand. “Let Joey know we’ll be in touch.”
Ink nodded once. “Will do.”
We waited until they left before we got on our bikes and headed back to the clubhouse. I was in need of relief, especially after that exchange. Dealing with anyone new left my muscles feeling too tight, and this time hadn’t been any different. Just because Joey and Ink knew the Khan brothers didn’t mean I did. And it certainly didn’t mean I trusted them either.
I didn’t trust anyone outside of this family. I even held the Fathers of Mayhem at a distance. They weren’t Sons of Hell members—weren’t real family.
When we got back to the clubhouse, I headed into the kitchen to find something to eat before I went searching for some kind of release, whether it was tight pussy or a warm, wet mouth. A club girl was bent over the dishwasher when I walked in, and she straightened when she heard me enter.
She was pretty enough. Definitely new. Probably just a hang-around, to be honest. Blonde hair hung around her face, framing it perfectly, and her makeup was heavily done, hiding any blemishes she might’ve had. A pair of blue jean shorts rode up her ass, and she had on a crop top that might as well have just been a swimsuit top. Strappy, black heels added an extra six inches to her height. She was probably from the local strip club. Joey used to own it, but he sold it a while back after Alejandro became heavily involved with our club. We could launder our money through him now.
“You lookin’ for some fun, darlin’?” she asked, closing the dishwasher with her heel.
“Depends on what kind of fun you’re offering,” I rumbled, stepping closer to her. Food could wait. My dick was hard, and the tension in my body was begging to be released.
Cannon’s gorgeous face filtered into my mind for a moment, but I pushed her out again. I couldn’t get attached, and fucking Cannon again was sure to be my demise. She needed to stay the fuck away and out of my damn head.
“I can do anything you want me to,” she purred, scraping her french-tipped nails down my chest.
I reached down and unbuckled my jeans to pull my stiff cock out. “On your knees,” I commanded.
With a wicked smile, she dropped to her knees in front of me and parted her lips, her tongue sticking out. I grunted and laced my fingers in her hair before sliding my cock down her wet, warm throat. Her gag reflex never kicked in, and I took advantage of it, fucking her mouth roughly, not caring if I was hurting her.
She was here for one thing and one thing only. And that was just to be a hole for me to fill.
I heard the door open, and I glanced over. Cannon stood in the entrance, an impassive look on her face as she watched me drive my dick down Blondie’s throat. With a smirk and a wink, she walked over to the fridge and grabbed a beer. After she popped the top off, she set it on the counter beside me and leaned up, brushing her lips with mine.
My eyes almost rolled back in my head. Fuck, she wasn’t even the one my dick was eagerly getting sucked by, but she had me ready to blow my load all the same.
“You might need that after,” she whispered, her lips brushing mine, everything about her clouding my senses—the sweet smell of her, that red hair, those fucking freckles.
She sauntered out of the room before I could even say anything in return. Growling, I closed my eyes and pictured her on her knees in front of me, just like she’d been in the makeshift club gym. My balls drew up tight, and my cum spurted down the girl’s throat.
As soon as I was drained, I fixed my clothes and snatched the beer up, walking out of the kitchen without another word.
I wasn’t even hungry anymore.
But I sure as fuck was hella confused and worried about the effect Cannon was having on me.
6
Whiler
I’d been doing a damn good job the past month keeping distance between me and Cannon. She kept doing little things that kept her in my head and made me constantly think about her, but I’d managed to keep my hands off her so far. Didn’t seem to matter much though in the grand scheme of things.
In the past month, every time I fucked another woman, she was somehow there. It was like she had a sixth sense for when I was getting my rocks off with another woman. Fuck, even a few times, she’d stayed to watch. I’d recognized the jealous gleam in her eyes, but apparently, she liked torturing herself.
And fuck her for making my orgasms that much better when her eyes were on me. It was hard enough getting off without picturing her in my mind, but when she was in the same room, everything else ceased to exist but her.
But every time she was there, she never said a word to me. As soon as I was done, she left the room again. But she and I both knew she was the reason I came so hard every single fucking time. And I hated it.
I knew she was dangerous from the get-go. And now, we were in some fucked-up, twisted game that I didn’t understand. I didn’t know the rules. I didn’t know how to play. This was Cannon’s field, and it was inevitable that she would eventually wear me down and wreck me. I was just trying to prolong it.
