Slade(18)

I knew he was going to be trouble from the second I laid eyes on him at the club. I just knew it. Heck, even his name screams trouble. Slade Merrick. Enough said.





Chapter Seven

Slade





I’ve never had a woman act as if me pleasing her disgusted her. This is a fucking first. I can’t say that I like it. As a matter of fact, it pisses me off. She knows damn well that she enjoyed it. I bet she’s never had someone make her scream that loud before; make her come on contact. She’s just afraid to admit it; afraid to give into her needs; afraid that I’ll fuck her too good. That has to be it.

With the way she has me feeling at the moment, the last thing I want to do is go and exist in the same house as her just to have her avoid me and act as if she doesn’t want it as much as I do. I’m not down for that shit right now. I need to get some things off my mind; cool off a bit.

Out of habit, I end up at Walk of Shame. Pulling my motorcycle in the back parking lot, I yank my helmet off before slamming it down on my seat and shoving my motorcycle. Cale and Hemy better be ready to keep the drinks fucking flowing, because I have a feeling that I will be here for a while.

Stay far away from her. Yeah, I’ll fucking stay far away.

I push my way through the back door, walk over to my locker and grab a shirt. I get ready to put it on, but say fuck it instead. I’ll end up without it on by the end of the night anyways. I toss it down and make my way into the bar.

I notice that the crowd is finally starting to show up. Perfect fucking timing. There should be plenty of entertainment to keep me busy.

As I approach the bar, I see Cale sitting on the edge of the bar talking to a group of women. They all seem to be laughing; fucking entertained.

He nods and jumps off the bar when he sees me. “Dude, why the hell do you look so pissed? I thought you were going to keep Aspen company until I get off?”

Leaning over the bar, I grab for the nearest liquor bottle and reach for an empty glass. “Yeah well, she’s not the easiest to fucking entertain. I’m pretty sure she’d rather be alone right now.”

Cale tilts his head back with a dirty look as he watches me pour a drink. “Yeah . . . or maybe it’s just you she doesn’t want to be around.”

“Fuck off, Cale. I’m not in the mood today.”

“Yeah, well nothing new there.”

Slamming back my drink, I set the empty glass down on the bar and take a step closer to Cale so we’re face to face. I want to see him when he says it. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Looking away from me, he sighs and takes a step back. “You know what I mean. You’re just not the same person you used to be. You’re my best friend, but seriously, you need to . . .” He huffs and grips the towel over his shoulder. “Never mind. I’ve got work to do.”

“Yeah. Me too. I have a lot of fucking work to do.” I pour another drink and make my way over to one of the empty couches. Lucky for me, everyone seems to be in the back room with Hemy so I can get a few minutes to myself.

I set my drink down on the table next to me and lean forward with my head in my hands and my elbows resting on my knees. I just can’t get over the fact that I’m so pissed off at this fucking woman. This morning my past consumed my thoughts and now the fact that this woman angers me like nothing else has taken over; has me completely worked up. The bad part is, the more she angers me the more I want to fuck her and take it out on her.

I fucking disgust her? Nah, fuck that.

I reach for my glass and tilt it back. I need to get my mind somewhere else. The liquor won’t do anything but numb it, but numbing is what I’m used to. It’s what keeps me going. My cock starts to harden at the thought of a needed release. Right on schedule.

“What’s up, dick.”

I tilt my head up at the sound of Hemy’s voice. He looks down at me and holds out a bottle of Whiskey. I can’t help but to laugh a bit when I notice he’s standing there wearing nothing but an American flag wrapped around his waist. He has claw marks all over his skin from the women grabbing at him. He loves it just as much as I do. He’s a dirty mother fucker; like me. “What’s up, man?”

“Not shit. You look like you need another one of these.” He pours my glass back up to the top and leans against the arm of the couch. “You here to help me work the ladies tonight or what? It’s a small crowd. A private party.”

I look up at the small group of women that have started rounding up in the back room. Most of them look slutty and willing. I’m sure the thought of me fucking them doesn’t disgust them. Most of them will probably be begging. How the fuck can I pass that up?