Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 50653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Callan’s gaze travels back to me, warming me all over and dousing the pain from moments before. Kitty follows his path. She dips her head, a coy smile playing on her lips before she nods and walks over to me and folds herself back into her chair.
She pours another glass of beer and angles her face to study me.
“What?” I shift in my seat, feeling a tad bit paranoid.
“Come to the bathroom with me,” she says, jerking her chin toward the restrooms.
“Okay,” I say cautiously.
Following her inside, she shoos everyone out and locks the door. My nerves stir the alcohol in my stomach. “What’s going on?” I ask, fearful that the Kings do, in fact, have pictures and I’m in them. Or maybe she’s into me and I’ve been a pussy tease all night.
“Are you a cop?” she asks, stunning me silent. There’s a small pause, then she says, “Simple question.”
My mouth drops. A bark of laughter forces itself out. “No.” She moves closer, scrutinizing my face. “I promise you I’m not a cop. Why the hell would you even ask me that?”
“Lift your shirt,” she demands, tilting her chin. A knock on the door draws my attention, but hers stays firmly locked on me.
“I need to pee. Open up,” someone calls out.
“Fuck off,” Kitty barks. “Lift your shirt,” she demands, her eyes telling me to get to it.
“What the fuck?”
In truth, I know she’s checking me for a wire. We do this to new faces too.
“Just do it.”
I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it up, standing there with my tits on full display. “Happy?”
There’s a silent beat, the cool air against my bare skin making me shiver, the slight smell of water damage pricking my nose.
“You have great tits.” She looks back up at my face, offering me a toothy grin.
“You’re a weirdo.” I scoff, pulling my shirt back down.
“Sorry. I just had to be sure before—” She disappears into one of the stalls ignoring the Out-of-Order sign taped on the door, which she leaves open.
“Before what?” I grate out, quirking a brow.
Dropping her shorts, she sits to pee. “Before taking you back to the clubhouse.” She wipes then stands up, wiggling her shorts back into place but not before flashing me everything downstairs. Water gushes from the toilet when she flushes, making her squeal.
My mouth hits the floor. “You dyed your pubes?” Wait—did she say back to their clubhouse?
“Keeps things interesting.” She sticks her tongue out, her smile growing wider as she kicks her leg to flick the water from the sole of her shoes. “You wanna come party back at our clubhouse or what?”
Fuck yes.
“Let’s do it.”
When we get back to our table, everyone begins filing out of the bar. Kitty hugs a jug of beer to her chest and gestures with her head for me to follow her to the exit.
“I’ll bring the jug back, Ray,” she hollers to the older guy shaking his head at her behind the bar.
The summer-night air is thick, immediately coating my skin in a film of sweat. My hair clings to my neck and the outdoors offers no relief when we step out. No one seems to be in a rush to leave as they chatter and finish their drinks, gravel crunching under their feet. A wall of Harley-Davidson motorcycles line the entire stretch of the car lot, which wraps around the detached bar like the sea around an island.
“You can ride with me if you want, sweet cheeks. We can talk more about this golden shower you offered me,” the man named Dodger booms, noticing me and wrapping an arm around my shoulder.
The stench of sweat assaults my nostrils and clings to the back of my throat. He smells like rotting burgers. Curious eyes, including Callan’s, watch our interaction. My heart rate accelerates under his scrutiny. His eyes flitting between me and the brute who has me captured in his hold. Kitty snorts and lifts the jug to her lips, the various flashing bar signs reflecting off her hair making it appear as if she’s glowing.
Removing myself, I scrunch my nose. “Hard pass, you smell like you avoid all types of showers.”
A chorus of booming laughter rings out into the night. Not Callan’s, though. He stands away from everyone else with the blond guy. Callan’s watching me, however. His face a wall of stone, as he talks to the blond. A nod of Callan’s head, and then he’s turning. I can’t take my eyes from his ass when he strolls across the parking lot and throws his leg over his bike. The blond guy whistles and, like trained soldiers, everyone falls into action mounting their bikes.
“Rogue,” Kitty calls out. “Ride with us.” She waves a hand for me to follow her to a Jeep. There are a couple of girls already seated in the back. “Squeeze, girls,” she tells them before shimmying her butt between two, leaving the passenger seat for me. “This is Tim.” She grins.