Hawk's Property(2)

Patsy, the bartender, laughed. “I know you’re checking out her big rack.”

“You know me, man. A stacked bitch does it for me every time. I’d love to have my mouth around those soft tits. Her curves aren’t too shabby, either.”

Cara pretended to be engrossed in conversation with an inebriated Sherrie. Her face was turned toward her friend, but her ears were glued to the biker’s conversation. She couldn’t help herself; she was repulsed, yet titillated by his crudeness.

“You horny bastard.” Patsy chuckled.

“No argument there. She’s one sexy woman.”

Her cheeks flushed as the men continued to talk about her. She was tempted to grab her friend’s arm and yank her out of the dive at any second.

“Damn, girl, that guy is really checking you out. He’s totally hot.” Sherrie nudged her, tilting her head in Hawk’s direction.

“He’s being rude, and I’m not flattered.” Unable to resist, Cara glanced at Hawk sideways. Every time she looked at him, he was staring back at her, his gaze lingering on her mouth. His piercing stare made her stomach flutter. These drinks must really be strong. She was ogling a complete stranger decked out in leather and chains, picturing his lips on hers, his tongue probing her mouth. Fanning herself with her hand, she swore not to have another drink.

“I’d do anything to have Patsy look at me the way that badass is looking at you. Maybe if my boobs were bigger? What do you think, Car?”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“You do? You mean my boobs aren’t big enough for Patsy?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I mean no. Sorry, Sherrie, I didn’t really hear you,” Cara admitted.

Sherrie, beyond tipsy, swayed on her bar stool. “Men always like the big boobs. Hey, Patsy man, give me another.”

Patsy came over and put two drinks in front of them. “Excuse me, but I didn’t order another one. Only my friend did,” Cara said.

“Drinks are compliments from the two guys coming your way, ladies.” He smiled wide.

“Isn’t he cute, Car? Shit, Patsy’s hot.” Sherrie stared at Patsy’s ass as he bent over the ice machine.

Cara looked around to see who’d ordered the drinks. Two bearded men with slight potbellies were coming their way. She turned away. “Don’t look now, but we have some not-so-hot admirers coming our way. Ugh! Why did I let you talk me into coming here?”

“Admirers? Where? I’ll show Patsy man that I don’t need his hard ass,” Sherrie slurred, turning around.

Wishing she could slip away unnoticed, Cara kept her head down, hoping it would make her somehow invisible. No chance. “Hi, pretty lady,” a whiskey breath said in her ear.

Crap. Cara turned toward the voice. A man who looked like a grizzly bear was smiling at her while he stared at her breasts. Just great.

“What’s a classy lady like you doing in a joint like this?”

“That’s what I’ve been asking myself.” She smiled back.

“My name’s Rot, and this here is Beaver.” He pointed to his friend, who was talking with Sherrie.

Sherrie was laughing her ass off about something, and Beaver took every sway as an excuse to put his thick arm around her waist and cop a feel. Sherrie was too wasted to notice, completely useless to help herself if things took a turn for the worse. I can’t let this guy grope her. Again, Cara wondered why in the hell she didn’t stay home. Sherrie was always talking her into doing something crazy. Ever since junior high, they’d shared some crazy adventures. Cara decided this night would be added to their list.

Rot kept leaning into Cara. He put his arm around her shoulder and yanked her toward him, crushing her breasts against his chest. She tried pulling away, but he held her tightly.

“Why don’t you drink your drink? I ordered it for you.”

“Thanks, but I’ve had enough. We’ve got to get going.”

“Beaver and I will take you wherever you wanna go. We know a good place near here where we can have a fuckin’ good time.” He leaned his face into hers, trying to kiss her. She turned her head, a wet kiss catching her on the cheek.

“Not tonight, thanks,” she said.

“Why the fuck not? I bet you have some real good pussy.” He leaned in again. Cara tried pushing away, but his damn arm was like a rope around her. He leaned in closer as his hand moved down.

“I can fuck you good.” Rot nibbled her ear.

“Back off. Now!” Cara yelled.

Taken aback for a moment, Rot stared at her. Leaning close to her face, he snarled, “Listen, bitch. You don’t tell me shit. You’re not being too nice, considering I bought you a drink.”

“I didn’t tell you to buy me anything. I told you to back off, and I meant it.” She tried pushing him away.

“You heard the lady. Back the fuck off,” Hawk growled.

Rot turned around. “Butt out. You may be VP of the Insurgents, but to me, you’re nothing.”

The tension in the bar was suffocating. Several people moved to the back of the room as the anger between Rot and Hawk escalated.

“I’m not asking you again. Leave the lady alone and get the fuck outta here.” Hawk’s eyes darkened dangerously.

Rot, sizing up Hawk’s six-foot-three stature, sneered, “This bitch ain’t worth shit. Fuck you, Hawk.” Rot placed his hand on Cara’s thigh and squeezed it. Outraged, Cara shoved it away.

“You fuckin’ slut!” he yelled as he grabbed her arm.

The moment his hand reached her, Hawk jerked Rot away from Cara in a single movement.

“I said to fuckin’ leave her alone.”

“You sonofabitch!” Rot threw a punch. With an ease which caught Cara’s breath, Hawk grabbed the biker’s fist and bent Rot’s wrist back until he yelled out in pain.

“Back off, asshole, or I’ll break it.”

Rot threw a vicious look at Hawk, but retreated. “You better watch your motherfuckin’ ass, ’cause I’m not forgetting this shit.”

Hawk sneered. “That better be a promise. Now, get the fuck outta here if you wanna keep breathing.”

Rot yanked a befuddled Beaver off his bar stool and stormed out. Cara noticed the back of their leather jackets read Deadly Demons on the top and Nomads on the bottom. She shuddered. I never want to bump into them again.

“You okay?” a low, smooth voice asked.

She turned and looked into the deepest blue eyes she had ever seen. It took her breath away for a moment. “Yeah, thanks. Those guys were creeps.”

He smiled and took a deep drink from his beer bottle. “Most of the guys in here are creeps.”

“Are you?” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. Known to speak her mind, she chided herself for her lack of sense. Even though this biker was damn handsome, he dripped badass, and Cara didn’t know him, or how he would react to her sharp tongue. She held her breath, her muscles tightening, but her facial expression remained defiant.

Hawk’s eyes caught and held hers. “That’s something you’re gonna have to find out, babe.”

His voice was like dark, melted chocolate, and the scent of beer, leather, and cloves emanated from him. The buttery softness of his black leather jacket rubbed against Cara’s arms, and an uneasy desire to snuggle against it coursed through her, making her stomach somersault. Grabbing a cocktail napkin on the bar, she tore at it, willing herself to stop acting as if she were in junior high and meeting a boy for the first time. What the hell is the matter with me?

“What’s your name?”

“Cara.”

“I’m Hawk.”

“That’s unusual.”

“So I’ve been told. Damn, woman, you’re so outta place here. Did you stumble into this bar thinking it was a neighborhood pub?” He was talking in her ear, his warm breath tickling with each word. She almost felt his tongue on her earlobe.

“My friend likes the bartender. She talked me into coming with her.”

“Remind me to buy your friend a drink to thank her.” As he leaned into her, Hawk’s hard dick pressed against her thigh, causing her heart to beat erratically. He was so close to her ear that his skin grazed against her jaw.

“Is this a biker bar?” I can’t believe I just asked that stupid question. I mean, duh, that’s what it is. And I’m talking to a sexy biker. Cara shifted in her seat, realizing how turned on she was, but also how angry she was at her body for acting out.

“What gave it away—the leather, or the motorcycles parked out front?”

“I know that sounded stupid, but I meant do only bikers hang here?”

“You a biker?” He traced her jaw with his finger—so gently, so seductively.

“You know what I mean.”

“For the most part. The guys are bikers, and a lot of the women are here looking for guys to have a good time with. We’re known to be good at partying… and other things.”

Swallowing hard, Cara diverted her attention to her drink, moving the ice cubes around with her straw. Shivers pricked her skin as the softness of Hawk’s t-shirt rubbed against her bare arms. She tried to avoid Hawk’s closeness to her, his intense stare. This good-looking biker, who exuded danger and sex, unnerved her.