1
Devil
The only good thing about the January heat in Sydney was the female skin on display. Skimpy shorts, bikini tops, and tight tanks clung to bodies made for sin. It was a fucking smorgasbord of tits and ass all summer long. And I was staring at the best set of tits I’d ever had the good fucking fortune of laying eyes on. But fuck if I’d make a move on them—the blonde they belonged to looked like the craziest bitch I’d seen in a long time. She stood in the middle of a fucking animal cruelty protest, waving her “Stop Animal Cruelty” placard around while spewing hatred towards whoever she thought was abusing the animals she loved.
Although I was in a hurry to get to the clubhouse, I slowed to dedicate a few minutes to her curves. Didn’t matter that I had no interest in her or her crazy protesting ways; it never hurt to admire beauty in whatever form it came. However, as my gaze skimmed over her body, another woman stepped in between us, blocking my view.
Jesus, is the universe trying to cause trouble between King and me today? I should be almost at the clubhouse by now, not standing on a footpath with my dick begging to be let loose.
If I thought the blonde had a set I wanted to get my hands on, this dark-haired beauty kicked that desire up a couple of notches. The minute she opened her mouth and spoke, the knowledge that King would cut my balls off if I were late that morning fled my brain.
I stood transfixed while the crowd surged on the road in front of me listening to her speak. Her voice drew them in as easily as it did me. The only difference being that I had no fucking clue what she said. All I knew was that I needed that voice to whisper dirty shit in my ear as I took her body in every way possible. She had the sexiest damn sound I’d ever heard.
Her loose black T-shirt slid off her shoulder as she waved her arm around while she spoke. I only had a side-on view that didn’t give me the best opportunity to appreciate her completely. But it allowed me to admire her tattooed waist when her shirt lifted as she moved that arm around. My gaze drifted lower so I could take in her long tattooed legs and a sweet ass she barely covered with tiny ripped denim shorts.
Fuck, if only every Monday morning began with an animal protest in one of King’s Cross’s streets, led by this dark-haired beauty.
The buzz of my phone ringing distracted me. Without taking my eyes off her, I held it to my ear. “Yeah?”
King’s voice snapped into the phone. “Where are you?”
“I’m on my way. I’ve just left home.” I still had an hour before the time he’d set. At the rate I was going, though, I’d be lucky to make it.
“Make a detour on the way, brother. I need some shit from the supermarket, and I need you to drop it off at my place before you come here.”
Fuck.
No way in hell would I have time to do all of that before the meeting. I’d give it a good fucking shot, though. “Text me what you need.”
He ended the call, and a minute later, his text arrived. I scanned his list. Weirdest fucking shit King had ever asked me to get him—water cracker biscuits, lemons, ginger tea, pretzels and ginger ale. I figured it must be for Jen.
The fact he was looking after Jen was some of the strangest shit around. I hadn’t been a member of Storm when they’d first got together so I didn’t know what their relationship was like in the early years, but the last year of it had been hell. And not just for the two of them. King had brought his own personal hell to the club; we’d all suffered through it. I wondered what had possessed him to allow a woman who’d left him for another man back into his home.
I watched the dark-haired beauty for another long moment. I dragged that time out for as long as I could, but knowing that King wanted me to drop stuff off for Jen kicked my ass into gear. I’d seen the way he held her yesterday, and one thing was sure—he’d cut my balls off for being late to a club meeting, but what he’d do to me for not getting this shit to Jen as soon as possible was unpredictable. And an unpredictable King wasn’t something I was willing to take a gamble on.
As I turned to leave, the crowd surged again, and the woman who’d held my attention crashed into me. I saw her coming and held out my arms to catch her.
“Fuck!” she yelled as she attempted to ease out of my hold. She wasn’t yelling at me, though, but rather at the man who’d shoved her into me. “You filthy piece of scum,” she spat at him. Hell, if her voice captivated me before, it all-out fucking turned me on after that.
Nothing better than a woman with some fight.
Although she clearly wanted me to let her go, I didn’t. The menacing glint in the eye of the guy she yelled at concerned me. Lowering my mouth to her ear, I said, “How about you let me deal with him while you get back to your protest?”
Spinning around in my embrace, her brown eyes met mine and I instantly knew I’d found myself a spitfire. No fucking way would she listen to me. Those eyes flashed determination. “How about you let me go so I can take care of this asshole by myself?”
I couldn’t help myself; I grinned. Damn, but I loved a woman who gave it to me like that. I tightened my hold on her. “How about we blow this protest and you let me show you—”
The asshole cut into our conversation when he grabbed her shirt and tried to pull her away from me. Anger and a desire to protect her consumed me when he also yanked a handful of her hair, snapping her head back and eliciting a cry of pain from her.
Moving quickly, I let her go and reached for his throat. Wrapping my fingers around it, I squeezed hard enough to ensure he’d struggle for breath. Only a moment passed before he dropped his hold on her and clawed at my hand while gasping.