“Are you leaving me?”
“Babe, I’m the vice president, and I have to greet the out-of-towners. Why don’t you chill, and I’ll be back in a couple of hours, okay?” He turned her head and kissed her deeply, tasting of whiskey.
“Go on, do your duties. I’m going to take a shower and get ready,” she said.
He kissed her again. Before closing the door, he warned her, “Make sure to lock it. I have a key, so don’t open it to anyone.”
She blew him a kiss, and he was gone.
Cara locked the door and went back to the window. Most of the guys were inside the clubhouse, but a few groups of men stood around talking and drinking. She noticed a few women come toward the gates. The women were scantily dressed in very short shorts and skirts, their ass cheeks noticeable, and way-too-tight tops—or even no tops, just stickers over their nipples. Cara swallowed hard; she was going to stand out like a sore thumb. These were the women Hawk screwed. He must like women who dress like that. I wonder why he came after me? She stared out the window, transfixed, as more and more women came to the compound. I’ve got to stop doing this. This is crazy.
She made herself leave the window and take a shower, wondering what Hawk was doing while she was alone up there. Figuring a lot of the women downstairs would make a beeline for him, would he fuck one of them? He could do it, and she’d never know. Didn’t these bikers think it was okay to fuck if they felt like it? For that matter, didn’t most men think that?
Trevor’s infidelity assaulted her thoughts. Stop it, Cara, Hawk isn’t Trevor. You have to start trusting a man sometime.
Finished with her shower, she went back to the window and watched the party unfold as she towel-dried her hair.
* * *
“Born to Raise Hell” by Motörhead vibrated the overhead speakers as more members came into the clubhouse. Many brothers hadn’t seen each other since the previous year’s Sturgis rally. They milled around with beers in hand, or engaged in some serious conversation about engines and chrome; motorcycle talk was number one, more important than booze or women.
The regular club whores, Lola and Brandi, walked around the throng of men, giving them a sneak peek of their assets. Lola hated to compete with the hoodrats who came to party on the weekends; to her, the hoodrats were cop-outs—they weren’t committed to the biker-club life at all. She was available to the members all the time and was part of the club’s fabric, seeing herself as a necessary spoke in the club’s wheel that kept turning, and it pissed her off that the weekend sluts came to the club acting like they owned it. Just the week before, Lola had to show one of the bitches who was boss. The brothers loved watching Lola and the slut punch it out, but for Lola, it was a matter of protecting her turf. There was no way in hell she was going to let one of those weekend whores act like they were in charge. She kicked the skinny slut’s ass good, and she noticed the brothers treated her with a bit more respect for holding her own.
Lola scanned the room for Hawk; she wanted to fuck him for sure during the party. In the last few months, she hadn’t seen him around and she missed his presence, having a soft spot for him ever since he’d fucked her. Spotting him near the bar, she walked over to him and drew close to his ear, whispering in a sultry voice, “Hiya, handsome. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you ’round here.”
Looking sideways, Hawk’s eyes rested on her highly made-up face. Pressing into his side, she squeezed his bicep and rubbed her boobs, hanging out of her skimpy neon green top, against his tattooed arm.
Frowning, Hawk jerked his arm away and said, “I’ve been busy.”
“Are you ready to have some fun tonight, darling?”
“It’s good to see members I haven’t seen for a while.”
“What about you ’n me goin’ someplace to fuck?”
“Not gonna happen, but there are plenty of brothers who’d love to fuck your pussy.”
“The one I want tonight is you. I’ve reserved myself for you only.”
“I’m not available,” Hawk stated, turning his back on her.
Lola blinked several times then said, “What do you mean, ‘not available’?”
“Not that it’s any of your fuckin’ business, but I’m with a woman now. Conversation over. Move on.”
“What woman? You got yourself an old lady?” Surprise and disappointment laced her voice.
“I said, move on.” Waving his arm, Hawk yelled out to a heavy, bearded man who had an arm around a slut and a bottle of whiskey in his hand. “Bones, when the fuck did you get here?”