Jack (The Kings of Mayhem MC Tennessee 1)

“I want you,” I pant against his lips.

And I do.

I want him so bad, I’m ready to beg.

With one hand on his nape, the other slides down his body to palm the thickness in the front of his jeans. But with a tortured growl, Jack breaks off the kiss and holds me at arm’s length. Tormented eyes find mine as his chest heaves with his labored breath.

“We gotta stop,” he pants as rain runs down his face.

“Why?”

“Because, like I said… I’m not meant for you that way.”

Tension snaps in the air as he takes a step away.

He’s serious.

He doesn’t want this to happen.

Foolishness sweeps through me.

He still thinks I’m a little girl with fucking pigtails.

And just like that, the rain stops and all Jack’s walls go up again.

JACK

After dropping her home and calling the prospect to stop by to watch her, I escape to the clubhouse. Solely because I don’t trust myself around Bronte.

I fucking kissed her, and now I can’t get the taste of her from my lips. It lingers like a tease, making me want more. Her soft lips. The feel of her tongue. The soft moan as I devour her mouth. I’m hungry for more and hate myself for it.

She’s just a kid, you fucking creep.

I need a distraction, and the clubhouse has a lot of it. I don’t usually go for club pussy, no smart president would, but I have an itch that needs scratching, and there are plenty of girls at the clubhouse willing to do just that.

When I ride in, it’s busy with people left over from last night’s party. Rested up, they’re ready for round two. So I head straight for the bar where Dolly pours me a shot of tequila.

“You look like you’ve been ridden hard and hung up to dry. What’s troubling you, honey?”

I throw back the shot and feel the heat light up my chest. It’s exactly what I need.

That and the feel of Bronte’s sweet lips against mine. I close my eyes at the thought. Fucking asshole.

Opening my eyes again, I look at Dolly. “You ever done anything so stupid you wondered if you were crazy?”

“Oh, honey, my whole life has been one big ride of crazy.”

In a moment of weakness, I open up to Dolly. She has a crazy way about her. She can squeeze information out of you without you even realizing it. If the FBI were smart, they’d recruit her.

“I did something stupid…” I toy with the empty shot glass, “… I kissed someone I had no business kissing.”

“This someone, did they kiss you back?”

“Enthusiastically.”

“Oh sugar, if that’s the worst thing that’s happened to you today, then I’d say today’s been a pretty good day.” She refills my glass.

“No, Dolly. This is bad.” I throw back the shot.

“Did those Fenway cousins finally get their claws into you?”

“No, I mean real bad, Dolly. The I’m a fucking asshole kind of bad.”

Our eyes meet, and the understanding hardens in her expression. “Oh, Jack.”

“I know, like I said, I’m a fucking asshole.” I nod for her to refill my glass but before she does, she reaches behind her, grabs another shot glass and lines it up next to mine. Filling them both, she throws one back herself.

“You’re not an asshole. But do yourselves both a favor and keep your cock out of her henhouse.”

I sit back in the shadows, moodily sinking tequila shots as my head and heart battle it out.

Lulu is gorgeous. The type of gorgeous that stands out from the rest of the club girls. Strawberry blonde hair. Big tits. Full lips. The kind of sexy legs that belong wrapped around your waist as you drive into her beautiful body with long, hard thrusts. She’s a dancer at Candy Town and comes to the clubhouse to let off some steam from time to time. In the past, we’ve shared a couple of looks, hers were inviting and seductive, mine were noncommittal and disinterested. Now we’re sharing a chair on the far side of the clubhouse as she rocks her body against my lap in time to Rock Mafia’s “The Big Bang.”

Dressed in a tiny pair of shorts and a bikini top that barely contains her double Ds, she’s giving me the kind of lap dance that should have me hard as fuck and dying to give it to her, but my dick isn’t participating. It’s giving zero fucks about the hot babe sliding up and down, and all over my body. I’d like to say it’s whiskey dick. That I’ve consumed enough tequila shots since spilling my guts to Dolly earlier, but I’m barely feeling the effects of the liquor.

No, this isn’t because of tequila.

This is because of her.

Bronte.

The woman I’m aching to touch.

To kiss.

To bury myself so deep into.

Fuck.

This is a mistake.

I am just about to push Lulu away when Bronte walks into the clubhouse, a flustered prospect running in after her.