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“I bet that tight little snatch is getting wet just thinking about it,” he adds. I let myself down when a small moan escapes me, showing him the weakness I know he’s craving.
He leans in closer, his bristly beard brushing at my cheekbones as his mouth moves to my ear.
“Open your mouth,” he whispers, and I hate that I automatically react and do as he orders. His hand moves slowly up my body, sliding between my tits and over my neck to cradle my jaw. The softness of his touch suddenly goes tense, his thumb and fingers crushing my cheeks together and forcing my mouth to open wider. I watch as he moves his mouth toward mine, then close my eyes, and brace myself.
I shouldn’t want this so badly, especially not here in my office while he’s laying a threat on me, and my body jolts in shock when I feel his teeth sink deep into my bottom lip.
“Back the fuck off,” he growls against my lips before sliding his tongue across them.
Bastard.
Yanking hard on my ponytail, he forces my head back before releasing me and stepping away. Then without another word, he flicks the files off the edge of my desk and strides casually out of my office.
That son of a bitch just bit me, and I feel the throb of it as I watch him leave.
It’s official, I despise him with every strength inside me, and what I hate most is the fact that he’s right. Despite my intense hate for the man, my body seems to crave him. And as I fidget around in my back pocket to locate the key to my cuffs, I swear to myself that I will not, under any circumstances, give in to its request.
I came to this town to get answers, but now Squealer and his pathetic club are going down, and I’ll be the one laughing when it happens.
I wish I could say it feels good to have that shit off my chest, but with my cock solid as I leave the room, I feel like I’m the one being punished. I wink at Lucille as I pass the desk on the way out, then straddle my bike and head back to the club.
The bar room’s pretty empty when I get back, but it’s still early in the day, not too early for a beer, though.
Not when I got nothing else to do.
“One up,” I call out over the bar, and Abby just about manages to tear her face away from her cell phone to spot me.
“You good?” I check with her. Abby’s a quiet thing, though from what Ella tells us, that never used to be the case. I guess that's what a drug problem will do to ya.
I do sometimes wonder what the club has here that she wants. Sure, we treat her well, make sure she’s got everything she needs, but she doesn’t really have a place here. She ain't a whore, and she’s certainly no one's old lady.
She places a beer in front of me and immediately gets back to typing on her phone. The smile on her face suggests she’s talking to a guy, probably through one of those stupid swipe apps, but how should I know?
Tawk barges through the double doors, his arms stacked with boxes, and when he places them on the bar counter, he smiles shyly at Abby.
“Thanks, Tawky.” She looks up and wrinkles up her nose before getting back to her text conversation. She’s oblivious to the way he stares back at her, and my guess is our new Prospect’s finally located his dick.
Abby waits until he’s headed back out before she starts unloading the boxes and stacking up the fridges, but it ain't long before Tawky is back with more boxes.
“You wanna drink after all that heavy lifting?” she asks when he’s done.
“Um, yeah, sure.” This guy’s got no game, which is madness considering the brawn of him. He’s got bone structure like the guys from those magazines the girls leave laying around, that paired with his Native American skin, and his long glossy black hair makes him an absolute pussy magnet.
Abby flicks the lid off his bottle and smiles at him as she places it on the bar.
“Thanks,” he growls back at her, not knowing quite where to land his eyes when she doesn’t move away.
“I should take some of this to the member's bar,” Abby pulls a box loaded up with scotch off the bar before she heads out to the foyer. There’s a long awkward silence before I decide I need to get involved.
“You know she likes you, right?” I lay it on the table for him.
“Don’t think so.” Tawk shakes his head doubtfully.
“You're crazy, right? You don’t see that bitch getting herself all cute whenever you’re in the room? She’s hot for you.” Jesus, I wish I had the time to fully educate this guy. He could have some real potential. I’ve just got too much on my mind right now.
“She’s beautiful,” he shrugs, staring at his bottle before he knocks it back.
“Then tell her that, chicks dig that kinda shit.”
