Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Candi shifts in my arms. I’m not startled she’s still in here. Her presence when I woke up was considered before I ever closed my eyes. I don’t want her here, but I couldn’t bear to let her go earlier. I clear my throat, hoping it will startle her awake so she’ll leave, but all it serves to do is rouse her enough that her hand slides down the ridges of my stomach to settle just out of reach of my thickening cock.
It doesn’t bother me that she’s on my chest. It doesn’t torture me that the tips of her fingers are mere inches from my dick. What spooks me is realizing my fingers are stroking through her hair. I’m loving on her, petting her like a kitten without even thinking about it.
And what’s worse?
I enjoy it.
I love the dark strands sifting through my fingers, and the way the soft light catches a hint of red on occasion.
And those thoughts make me a pussy, and if there’s anything in the world I’m not… it’s a pussy.
I jolt out of bed, rustling Candi enough that she should wake up. She doesn’t. She must not have gone to bed much earlier than when I went into Molly’s to collect her last night.
She grumbles, much the same way she did when she was in my room back at the clubhouse last week and snuggles deeper into the pillow.
God, she’s fucking cute wrapped in my sheets. The sight of one exposed nipple beckons to me, calling me over.
I ignore it.
That’s a lie.
There’s no way to ignore the delicate curve of her breast and the way her dark, brown hair practically floats on the bed.
I fight the urge.
Fight it the entire time I’m pulling my boxers and my jeans on. I don’t even bother with the button and zipper. Or socks for that matter. I shove my feet into my boots and haul ass down the stairs. Distance is the only thing that will ensure I don’t go right back to her. I have too much to do, and wasting hours lying beside her while she sleeps isn’t an option.
My plans to sit at the breakfast bar and drink a cup of coffee are deterred by Molly standing at the stove, so I grab a beer from the fridge and head out onto the front porch.
“Son of a bitch,” I grumble at seeing Briar and TJ sitting in two of the four chairs on the front porch.
“Hey to you, too,” TJ snaps playfully.
“Any fallout from last night’s job?” I ask as I settle into my own rocker.
“Nope,” TJ responds.
I already knew the answer. If there was an issue, I would’ve been woken up. I don’t lead this club with my head in the sand like my father did. They know to come to me with all issues. I’m the one who decides the level of importance.
“Pete’s on the gate now, but Sam assured us all was quiet today,” Briar elaborates.
“Won’t be quiet tonight,” TJ says, smiling around the lip of his beer bottle. “Everyone is rested up and ready to party.”
We sit in silence for a few long moments before TJ slaps his knees and walks away without another word.
“That boy gets stranger by the damn day,” Briar mutters, watching his back as he disappears into the back door of the clubhouse.
I grunt in response. I don’t have the energy to pay that close attention to my little brother.
“Find what you were looking for when you got home?” I don’t look at him, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
Rolling my head on the back of the rocker, I look over at my oldest friend. “I need some new pussy.”
What seems like disappointment fills his eyes before he looks away. His beer tilts to his mouth for a long pull before he responds. “I’ll take care of you, Brother.”
I know he will. I don’t make this request very often. Each time I do, he always provides what I need, but tonight the response is different. A month ago, I would’ve confronted him. I would’ve called him out on being so much in my business that he has an actual opinion about how I spend my free time. His discontent with my request has nothing to do with fucking. It has to do with the fact that I’m requesting someone other than Candi.
“I’m going for a ride,” I hiss, standing so fast the empty beer bottle at my feet topples over and begins to roll off the porch.
I don’t even bother to look back.
“I’ll grab my leathers,” Briar says.
“I’m going alone.”
“That’s not—”
I turn on him, daring him to question me again. The frustration, the anger I feel right now with my best friend, is the reason Candi needs to be gone. Her ability to dictate my decisions and influence my emotions is a power no one should have over me.