Bewitching The Biker (Royal Bastards MC: Charleston, WV 7)

After church I hit the bar for a beer, happy to see the prospect and Shiloh behind it instead of an Ol’ Lady and a baby. I glance around noticing no Ol’ Ladies are around. I need a damn drink. The last thing I want to do is go back to that damn store. I’ve had bad luck since I walked through that damn door of the place. One of Hound’s damn dogs’ shit on my bedroom floor sometime in the middle of the night. Got a fucking hole in my favorite tee. ATM ate my bank card, and they have to send me a new one. Got a fucking flat on my bike on my way here.

So yeah, the last thing I want is to go track down a fucking witch so she can put another hex on my ass.

Music belts through the speakers in place of the Tv blaring with cartoons. A porno flick plays instead. Thank fuck Prez is back. Maybe shit will return to normal, and I can get my dick sucked without worrying about hearing a baby cry.

“Bottle of Bud,” I tell Shiloh.

“Anything for you, handsome.” Her dark lashes flutter over her green eyes. Her dark red hair hangs over her shoulders, the curled ends tickling her freckled cleavage. I forget where Crawl picked the bitch up from, but she’s been hanging around a few months now. She slides my bottle across the bar and leans in like she is going to say something only to scurry off when Prez pulls out the stool next to mine.

“Prospect,” his deep voice booms. “I don’t see a glass in front of me.”

Nav fumbles with a bottle of Jack Daniels.

“Fuck, son. I’m not asking you to make love to it. Pour. Now.”

I chuckle and knock back a heavy pull off my beer.

Murder shakes his head at the prospect. “Who the fuck is training him on the bar?”

“Was Pam, but her fuse is short these days. I think she makes him nervous.”

“What makes you think that? Hell, he ain’t got a crush on her, does he? Link will drag his ass behind his bike.”

“Nothing like that. Well, it’s not Pam.”

“Fuck. Don’t say it’s Link. Last thing I want to think about is you boys turning into fudge packers.”

I nearly spit out my beer at the thought of Nav being into Link. Hell, shit might be simpler if that were the case. “Just an observation.”

“Anything I should know?”

“Not yet anyway. That changes I’ll let you know.”

“Right. You doing good?”

“Yeah. I’m straight.”

“Glad to hear it. Heard you took issue with my daughter and grandbabies being around.”

“You know I adore Wylla Mae. Hell, we all do. It’s not that I mind them hanging out...but...” I trail off afraid he’ll bash my skull in if I say something to offend him where his daughter is concerned. “It’s not only that. I’m a single man. No plans on starting a family. I don’t want to have to look over my shoulder when I want to get a little wild.”

“We’re a family here, but if my men ain’t happy then that’s a problem.”

“I’m good, Prez.”

“If you were good there wouldn’t be whispers and complaints but appreciate you keeping it respectful. I’ve told East and some of the other brothers to have a care and let the Ol’ Ladies know that while they are always welcome this is our clubhouse and while wives are welcome, kids should only be brought in on family days or in an emergency.”

I nod. Not much to say to that. He knows I’m right, and we’ve always had rules for a reason. I know he’s had personal shit going on though. New house. Alexa having the twins. Shit has changed. I’m sure it’s for the better but feels like there’s been a bit of a divide. Hell, even Holy’s ass went and got married. Though he’s not managed to knock Hazel up yet.

Prez sucks back his liquor, gives me a pat on the back, before shoving up from his stool. He leans in close. “Glad we had this talk, Sandman, but don’t mistake me. I hear you talk shit about my wife, kids, daughter, or grandbabies coming into my clubhouse I’ll stomp your ass.” He gives my neck a squeeze then gives me a shake. “Shiloh,” he belts.

“Yeah?” She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip.

“Take Sandman upstairs. Fucker needs laid.”

I shake my head but hell he ain’t wrong. It’s been longer than I care to admit. I’ve never had trouble getting pussy. Since my run in with that little witch bitch though I’ve not been able to get her out of my head. It’s been a coupla days. All I see when I close my eyes is her hypnotic blue orbs that remind me of sea glass. She’s haunting me. Last night I had a dream about her. We were in her damn store but there was fog all around making it hard to see a damn thing but those gorgeous eyes.

“Have your fun tonight, but tomorrow I want you on the witch.” He stomps off without waiting for a reply.

I down the rest of my beer and follow Shiloh upstairs to the room she’s claimed as her own. She’s stepped in to manage the clubhouse now that Pam is too far into her pregnancy to keep up with her duties and she’s more focused on the daycare she’s got with Zoe.

I kick the door shut behind me and grab a condom from the fishbowl on her dresser filled to the brim with them.

She whips her low-cut red tank top over her head revealing a matching lace bra her tits are toppling out of. “How do you want me?”

I stare at Shiloh. She’s beautiful. Gorgeous body with curves in the right places. Long legs that’ll envelope me easily. My dick should already be getting hard at the thought of them pouty red lips wrapped around the head, but nothing happens. Not even a spark because she’s not a short spitfire with a head full of dark curls waiting to shoot off at the mouth at me.

Only when I think of the witch bitch does my cock come to life. “Get on your knees.”

Shiloh smirks and grabs a square pillow off her bed. The pillow hits the floor and her knees hit the pillow. I stand in front of her with my eyes closed thinking of them haunting blue eyes and that sweet ass I’ve not been able to get out of my head.

Fucking hell, I’m fucked if the only way I can get off is to think about her.

Maybe Hound was right.

Dark haired heathen hexed me.