“All right, man. Chill the fuck out. I didn’t mean any disrespect. It’s just since we brought her to the clubhouse you’ve been acting all kinds of weird, and then the shit with Lane because he almost touched her?” Diesel shook his head. “I don’t get it.”
“Neither do I, Diesel.” He knew his VP was surprised by his admission, but it was the truth.
“You want to call a meeting now?”
Jagger shook his head.
“No, let them party. I’ve got a headache anyway and think I’ll crash.”
Diesel nodded and turned to leave.
“Keep an eye on her when I’m not around, cool?”
Diesel turned and looked at him. “Sure, man.” He lowered his eyebrows, and Jagger knew he wanted to know what the hell was up with him. Jagger wished he could tell him, but he didn’t understand it himself.
“She’ll be here for about a week, but I’m going to get her set up someplace where she’ll be safe. I want to find Trick before then, though. I don’t want to put her outside of these club walls without having that bastards throat tore open.”
A hard look crossed Diesel’s face. “You got it, Jagger.”
Diesel left him alone, and he fell back on the bed. Reaching out and turning off the light, he should have just gotten up and taken a shower, but he was tired, his head hurt, and all he had been thinking about since seeing Sonya at the Wolverine clubhouse was how much he wanted her. “Fuck.” He rubbed his eyes, and told himself that in the morning this situation wouldn’t look so fucked-up. He hoped.
The sound of a soft moan was what woke Jagger from a very sound sleep, but it was the hands moving under his shirt and over his chest that had his dick hardening in his jeans. He had been dreaming about Sonya, and his cock had already been at half-mast. He opened his eyes, but the room was dark and the blinds closed so no light came in. With him still trying to push away sleep, he focused on his surroundings. There was another soft moan, and the first image that came to mind was Sonya on top of him, not able to help herself, and needing him just as badly as he needed her. But his head was still foggy, and his reflexes slow, because it took him several seconds to realize it wasn’t the female he really wanted.
The scent of old sex, booze, and desperate lust slammed into his nose, and he gripped the boney arms in front of him and pushed DeDe away. Jagger rolled over and flicked on the light and then looked over his shoulder at her. She was already topless and had her micro miniskirt up over her thighs. Her thong barely covered her cunt, and her pussy lips popped out from the sides of them. She was also piss-ass drunk.
“What the fuck are you doing in my room, DeDe?” Before she could answer he stood and made his way into the bathroom. Turning on the faucet and splashing some water on his face, he needed to get the smell of her off of him. He grabbed a towel without lifting his head he dried his face off. But luck wasn’t with him because DeDe was still on his bed.
“Seriously, DeDe, I am not in the mood tonight. You’re drunk, and I can see on your face you have something on your mind and want to get it off.” Jagger went back into his room and sat in the old and tattered chair pressed against the corner wall. It was only midnight, so he had only gotten a few hours of sleep.
“I just thought you might like a little company since you seemed very strung tight when you almost killed that prospect.” She rose up on her knees, and Jagger rested his head against the wall. Yeah, he was strung tight. “I just wanted to help relieve some of your tension, baby.”
Jagger needed a little relieving, but it wasn’t something DeDe could help him with. The whole reason he felt like this was because of Sonya, and she was the only one that could help ease this ache that took over his whole body. Even while sleeping he had been dreaming about her. Her lush, big breasts, her flared out hips, and the way she had looked at him with those big blue eyes. And then she had touched his shoulder to comfort him when she obviously felt his turmoil, but what she didn’t know was ever since he had seen her at Trick’s place she had consumed every part of him. Whether it was logical or not wasn’t even the point, because the reality of it was Jagger had never felt like this. But in the end he still had to do the same thing, and that was get her out of his club and make sure she was safe.
He didn’t need an old lady, had never wanted one, and had always been content in fucking the club whores, or the random pick-up at the bar. But even with the hell Sonya had been in, she was still so innocent, even if she tried to be so strong on the outside. How could he expect her to want anything to do with him when the MC life she had been subjected to had been nightmarish? And then she had been thrust into the Grizzly biker world, had seen the pot being passed around, the sex openly flaunted, and then nearly watched him lose his shit because Lane had almost touched her. Yeah, she didn’t need any part of that, because Jagger could never leave this life, and would never change. He was who he was, didn’t care what others thought, and liked living this way. The violence made him stronger, and although it was grisly and bloody, it was part of this world they lived in.