“I'll do it, asshole,” she snapped, pulling away from me. “If everything here looks clean and kosher, I'll try. No promises it'll work, but we'll see. Whatever I decide, don't you ever talk to me like I'm some stupid kid who's spent her whole life in libraries. I can handle myself perfectly well in the adult world.”
Fucking shit. I barely stopped my inner asshole from blowing smoke out my nostrils and rolling my eyes.
She'd decided to listen to something sensible. That was fuckin' progress.
“You're right,” I said, letting my eyes roam all over her body, real slow from top to bottom. “You deserve a chance to show me what you're made of.”
“I don't have to impress you. Isn't your President the one who's handling all this? I need to talk to Dust.”
“Something like that, darlin'.” My cheek still burned. That fire radiated all the way down to my dick, making me hard as granite.
This chick was gonna get eaten alive at the skin shop. Didn't have a clue what the fuck Dust or Meg thought they could use her for. The instant she walked through the horny gaggle of truckers, bikers, and civvies shelling out good money to stare at tits all night, she'd get eaten alive.
And that was if the bitches slinging themselves around the poles didn't chew her up first.
Still, I meant every word I said. She deserved a shot. Anything beat more of her moping around the clubhouse, taking up my room all the damned time, reminding my cock of what it wanted, but couldn't have.
“When do I see Dust?” she asked, turning her beautiful back and giving me a flash of that long, blonde hair. Noticed for the first time it hugged her close, halfway down her back, the perfect distance above that magnificent ass.#p#分页标题#e#
“Tomorrow. Never said what time, but if you're up by seven, you'll be good. You like what he says, the job's all yours. Won't be long before I drive you down there to start.”
“Oh, awesome, so you're my chauffeur now, too?”
“Sure, long as you admit you like riding bitch on the back of my bike.”
Her mouth dropped again. I fought the urge to laugh. Headed the fuck outta there before she could sling more shit, or else pretend her nipples weren't getting hard underneath that nice white blouse.
Even when I walked into the bar and took my seat next to Joker, sucking on a tall beer with one hand on his big dog's head, I couldn't bleach her from my mind.
This girl was something else.
Always shocked and appalled.
Always too fucking hot for her own skin.
Always calling to my dick when we weren't even in the same room.
Always the kinda spitfire I saw myself taming, railing, owning in all my wet dreams – except she really existed in the flesh. Just a fucked up, defiant girl who'd suffered too much shit and seemed too good for a bastard wearing the skull like me.
That made me want her like a fuckin' animal.
Sooner or later, she'd fall. This world tarnished the shit out of the most beautiful souls who tumbled into it. She wouldn't be the shy, upright twenty-something baby face forever.
Tore my heart out to know she'd wind up on my level the longer she hung around here. But the instant she did, I'd be there to catch her, get a piece of that hot, pink, tight perfection wedged between her legs.
I'd risk getting my cock clipped by the Prez for some of that. No, fuck, it wasn't just about the need I had to own her inside-out.
Deep down, somewhere so far and dark I never went there, I wanted the best for this chick. Wanted her to rise above it, to kick some serious ass and make bloody giblets outta this dark, rough universe I called home.
That fantasy was a whole lot more fucked up than imaging all the ways I'd slam her into the mattress after shredding her clothes. What the hell was she doing to me?
IV: New Girl (Cora)
“Do your best. Make some money. We've got your meals and the roof over your head covered.” The tall, fearsome looking President of the Deadly Pistols MC stood over me, slowly pulling pipe smoke into his lungs every few words. “We'll be out of each other's fucked up sights before we know it, baby girl. You'll be off doing whatever you want, without the club or your old man's spirit dictating what you ought to do with your life.”
This man scared me more than Firefly, and it wasn't just because he was older. His eyes had that don't you dare fuck around glint in them times a thousand, their gray hue matching the rare ash slivers in his hair when it caught the light.
Jesus. Why did every man here have to look like a killer angel? Beautiful in their own way, but so menacing. Destructive. Frightening.
One question hung on my lips. I'd been fighting it since he'd stepped into my room and sat me down.
“What happened to my father?” I asked, finally mustering up the courage.