Crazy B!tch (Biker Bitches 5)

“Stud is your brother. You’re close. He’s never turned his back on you. Ask him if Star is yours and go from there. But what you three are doing is plain wrong. Sex Piston loves Star. She considers Star her own kid, so she isn’t going to want to shake the boat and risk losing custody of her. Once Sex Piston sees you’re not going to take her away from her, she’ll be cool with you seeing more of Star.”

“If that’s even going to be an option. What if she hates me?”

“You’re nuts if you believe that. She’s crazy about you. She’ll be hurt and confused at first, but the three of you will be there for her, and she will see that all three of you love her and want what’s best for her. If you wait until she’s older, it’ll be too late.”

“I’ll think it over.”

He sighed. The relationship he and Stud shared had weathered so many storms, but what if him confronting Stud about Star being his child put a wedge between them that couldn’t be overcome?

He had always looked up to Stud. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t wanted his father to know he could ride a bike as good as Stud. Their father had tried to foster a rivalry between them. That was why he had only ridden the bikes when no one was around to see. If the old man had known, he would have pitted them against each other, billing the races as brother against brother.

Stud had been strong enough to make their father back down, while Calder had stayed in the background, letting his brother deal with the demands made on him.

He was in his thirties and still let Stud shoulder the shit that he should, deluding himself that it was for Star’s sake when, in reality, he had been too proud to admit how badly he had screwed up.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole. I don’t blame you for my sore dick,” he sorrowfully tried to make amends with one of the two girls he loved.

She gave him a mischievous look. “Who do you blame?”

“The Last Riders.”

A loud whistle from down below had them both looking over the railing. A group of men below who were going into the hotel’s entrance were staring at them, their eyes trained on Crazy Bitch.

“Sweetie, if you’re needing some company tonight, you don’t have to flash the whole parking lot. Just tell me what room you’re in, and I’ll be right up,” one brazen asshole was stupid enough to shout upward, making the others snicker and catcall with suggestive movements to Crazy Bitch, who wasn’t making a move to step away from the railing.

Crazy Bitch hung dangerously over the railing. “Woohoo! What’s your name?”

“Buck!” The randy bozo proudly looked at his friends as if he had scored a three-point shot.

She turned her head toward Calder, rolling her eyes. “Figures.” She snorted derisively before looking back down at the asswipe.

There was something about this that made Calder feel carefree. It felt like hanging out with a good friend who you didn’t have to be self-conscious around or always be on your toes at their reaction. She had a vicious sense of humor that was fun to watch.

“Yo, Buck, you get an eyeful? I bet that’s the first pussy you’ve seen that’s not in a Playboy magazine.”

Calder winced at the way she was staring contemptuously down at the man below her.

“Tell you what; if your whittle dick can find room 232, I’ll be waiting.”

His amusement vanished when she shouted out their room number.

The man pulled his pants up over his sagging stomach. “I’m on my way, sugar britches!”

“You better hurry and get your jeans on,” Crazy Bitch told Calder. “You’re not going to scare the shit out of them with that dorky thing on.”

“I wasn’t expecting company,” Calder snarled, his appreciation of her sense of humor vanishing when she turned the tables on him.

“Next time, be quicker defending my honor.” Her breasts bounced under his T-shirt at her shrug.

Deciding it was better to spank her ass after he got rid of them, he rushed inside their room. He only had enough time to throw his jeans on before he heard the knock on his door.

“She’s fucking crazy,” he said to himself as he tugged his zipper over his pained cock that was protesting having to go back inside his pants.

“How do you think I got my nickname?” she asked, coming into the room. “You want me to open the door for them?”

“No!” Nonplussed at her looking forward to him getting his ass kicked, he went to answer the door. Opening it, he saw the four beefy men’s faces drop when they saw it wasn’t Crazy Bitch who had answered.

“Where’s sugar britches?”

He took a step forward, letting his body fill the doorway. “You got the wrong room.”