“You belong to anyone here, Red?” he asked bluntly, a glint in his eyes.
I smiled and opened my mouth to reply when a deep, pissed off voice beat me to it.
“Yes, she fuckin’ does,” Brock snapped, hand at my elbow.
Goatee Guy held up his hands. “Sorry, brother, wasn’t aware this one was yours.”
“I am not his,” I argued and Goatee Guy just smiled.
“When you’re able to convince him of that you come and see me,” he said, ignoring Brock’s growl.
I didn’t get the chance to argue further when the hand at my elbow tightened and Brock started dragging me toward the parking lot. I struggled but it turned out his muscles weren’t just for show.
“What are you doing? Let me go!” I hissed, debating on smacking him with my beer bottle. I decided against it, not because I didn’t want to maim Brock, but because I sensed alcohol might be needed in this interaction.
“I’m taking you home to do what I should’ve done the first night I met you,” he declared, not turning back.
“Introduced me to Goatee Guy so I could have gotten laid like I planned?” I retorted.
He stopped in the middle of the lot and turned. He face was tight with fury at my statement. “No, I should have dragged you to my bed and fucked you so hard you felt me in your throat,” he said, eyes moving over my body.
I couldn’t even restrain the shiver I had at his gaze. “Sorry, you lost the opportunity to do that when you passed me up for some ‘club business’.” I accentuated my distaste with said business with sarcastic finger quotes. I glared at him. “I’m sure the blonde who was draped over your lap would be a willing participant,” I continued, leaning in, “though she will be nothing compared to me. I’m guessing fucking her would be like throwing a sausage down a hallway.” I was surprising myself with such spiteful words, my jealousy turning me into a screaming bitch.
“You jealous. Sparky?” he asked with a glint in his eyes.
“Jealous? Yes, actually I am—she had on some kick ass heels that I was coveting. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go and find out where she got them from.”
I attempted to turn and walk back to the party but he grabbed my hand.
“Not that I don’t love it when you’ve got your claws out, but I think this extended form of foreplay has to stop. This is going to happen. We’re going to happen.”
I glanced at the bike that had just roared up, one Gwen was on the back of. I really didn’t want to have some scene in front of her. She’d be nervous enough about a party full of men without me adding to it by bottling her boyfriend’s best friend.
I snatched my hand away. “Sorry, you had your chance and you passed me up. I don’t wait around for anyone.”
I turned and strutted toward the party, swinging my hips a little because I knew my ass looked amazing in these shorts. I smiled when I heard the frustrated curse from behind me.
The night passed with a fair amount of drama, including me almost getting into a second catfight and I hadn’t even been there an hour. The second one was due to some other bee-atch draping herself all over Cade. The hurt in Gwen’s eyes had me ready to pass Rosie my earrings and go full skank bash on her ass. That again was foiled, this time by Gwen. I didn’t like the fact that her man had left her at a party full of bikers and then let a woman who should have been jailed for her fashion choices sidle up to him. Well, admittedly he pushed her away, but he had disappeared when he should have realized how intimidated Gwen felt by a party full of men who reminded her of the ones who attacked her. I was so giving him a piece of my mind later.
Apart from my worry for my best friend I had an amazing night, cementing the fact that Ashley, Lucy and Rosie were all seriously cool chicks. The more drinks I had the more I felt like it was a good idea to waltz up to Brock and demand he take me to bed. Who cared about the reasons why not? Him being seriously sexy and not taking his eyes off me was reason enough.
I was talking to Dwayne, trying to distract myself from the urge to go and lick a certain biker’s biceps when I felt heat at my back. A large hand gripped my hip tightly. I didn’t even have to turn to know who it was; the flames ignited from the simple touch told me.
“We’re going. Now,” a rough voice ordered in my ear.
The erotic promise in his tone plus the fact I was suffering from the female equivalent of blue balls had me nodding.
“Bye Dwayne.” I waved at him and he smirked at the nickname Gwen and I had christened him with.
“Bye babe.” His eyes cut to Brock. “Lucky bastard,” he muttered.
Brock turned me around and I almost gasped at how freaking hot he looked, all broody and turned on.
“Got your shit, babe?” he asked impatiently. I waved my Chanel at him.
“Right,” he murmured pulling me by the hand to his bike. I followed dutifully, my panties already wet with anticipation. We arrived at his bike and he turned to give me a head toe inspection. The heat from his gaze almost had me spontaneously combust on the spot.
“You need a jacket,” he said with a frown.
“I do not need a jacket,” I argued.
“Babe, it’s a twenty minute ride to my place and it’s cold on the bike once the sun goes down. You need a fuckin’ jacket.”
I crossed my arms. “Well, let’s got to my place. It’s like two minutes away,” I suggested.
Brock gave me a look. “I intend on fucking you for the entire weekend. I don’t want to have to worry about the neighbors hearing you scream after I make you come harder than you ever have in your entire life.”