Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
When Rooster let us know there was trouble, I showed up and dealt with the situation as well as I could. My job is done. But Harvey’s is to make sure his son outlives him, and he’s raging. Luckily, he wasn’t around to go with us when the call for help came through, because if he got this erratic during the confrontation in the woods, it could have ended very differently.
“It’s nothing, they barely touched me,” Rooster says, sitting cross-legged in the old wooden chair he favors. I’ve seen the bruises forming on his abdomen, but there are few things more embarrassing for a teenager than their parents fussing over them in company, so Rooster tries to play it cool.
“They shouldn’t have even been there!” Harvey roars, pacing in front of the large wooden table where we meet when club business needs to be discussed without prying eyes.
Prophet shakes his head, arms crossed on his chest. “Technically, that road was available to them, but they shouldn’t have accosted Rooster, that’s for sure.”
“But do we really want to break the peace over this?” Sad Billy chimes in with a scowl. That expression never leaves his face though, so I’m not sure how against that he is.
As they start arguing over the truce and whether we should uphold it, I stew in the fact that Clyde still hasn’t messaged me. Not even a we’re-good or whatever. I’m not a patient guy on the best of days, but right now, I feel like a wolf with its teeth removed when all I want to do is chew on a juicy bone.
At this point, I’d vote against the peace just so I can get my hands on Clyde in some way. But then he likely would have arranged a meeting and stabbed me in a way I don’t want to be stabbed, and that would not do. Not really.
As Prophet attempts to cool Harvey’s temper, I move my gaze over photos hung on the log walls of our clubhouse. It’s a simple space, but cozy and full of memories. A few of the guys’ old ladies keep it nice and clean, but it still has the calming vibe of an old school man-cave with mismatched furniture that’s either second-hand or built by someone within the community. It’s now warm enough that the large stone fireplace in the middle of the main room rarely gets lit, but there’s always a pile of wood waiting for someone to ignite it.
Then again, maybe the heat is misplaced, because my insides are blazing with want like never before. The fuel’s always been there, an unspoken secret. But with Clyde burning so bright, how could I not catch fire when he got close?
I know he’s a bad guy. He’s done shitty things both to me and my club over the years, but when I’m reminded of his throaty moans and how his cock felt in my hand, all the issues kinda drift away. Just today, he was there, harassing our prospect, but all I can think of is how he smelled and how intense his gaze was.
I get up, because I’m of no use to the conversation anyway.
“You’re off?” Prophet’s head whips back at me, and while his long dark hair is more messy and coarse than Clyde’s blond waves, it still makes me think of what I can’t grab.
I pinch myself, because I am not letting myself have any erotic thoughts about my best friend.
“Yeah, need to get Smokey checked out. She’s making a tapping sound I don’t like,” I say and slide off the table, which served as my chair since we arrived. I wave at my brothers as I head for the door.
I really need air. Preferably, I’ll get some while emptying my balls.
My mind is already drifting to doing that into Clyde when someone taps the back of my shoulder.
Prophet. “Wait, I’ll come with you,” he says as we leave the clubhouse building.
I can still hear Harvey raising his voice, but that’s not my problem anymore. Too bad I can’t drift off to fantasy land on my own, or text Clyde just for the blue balls of it.
“Um, okay? Anything you wanna talk about?” I ask, because Prophet would not be leaving everyone if he had no ulterior motives. “I’m not getting another fortune reading,” I say, walking down the steps leading to the porch of the clubhouse.
“No, I just…” Prophet starts fiddling with an amber pendant as we make our way beyond the area that’s only accessible to the Vulture Hollow MC and our guests. “You’ve been… moody, man. Everything all right?”
It’s a sunny day, so warm in fact I’ve heard some of the teens say they’ll go swimming in the lake. I’m not oozing any of that shiny joy from my heart. Maybe I have to admit I’m feeling rejected, and it hurts like a motherfucker. But I can’t tell Prophet about any of it.