Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Once again, he leaves and my curiosity about the man only grows more with every passing week.
CHAPTER 2
Rogue
“Time to go,” I tell Twilah Jane as she’s draped over my naked body trying to catch her breath. I give her bare ass a slap for good measure. A yawn escapes me. Well, I have been up about forty-eight hours now, add in drinking last night, and the joint I smoked, sleep will be necessary soon enough. That won’t happen with her here, though.
Learned that lesson a while back. I always sleep alone.
“Do you mind if I shower here?” she asks raising up in the bed, her cheeks still flushed from our fresh fuck.
“Yeah, I do,” I raise my eyebrows at her, “I ever let you shower here?”
She sighs, “well no, but I thought since we didn’t come to bed until well a couple of hours ago and I’m sure they are getting breakfast going now. I don’t know what I’m saying,” she mutters defeated. Her shoulders slump. “You want me to go out there like this?” she whispers, then replies to herself, “never mind.”
“Don’t press your luck Twilah. No matter how good you suck cock, you got one place here and you know what it is.”
Visibly she trembles at her harsh reality. “We’ve been doin’ this pretty regular lately. I know you’re not wantin’ an old lady, I just thought maybe I could shower here rather than in the bunkhouse.”
I smirk, “don’t worry, Twilah, pretty regular just ended.”
She gasps. “Please, Rogue, I like it here. I didn’t mean to overstep.”
“I’m a dick, but I’m not a total dick. Your place as a club whore is the same. Just my cock won’t be one you taste or touch again. My bed, my shower, my space is never available to anyone else outside of the time it takes me to get off and decide I’m done. If any of the girls need to know, you should probably tell them.”
She nods while looking away the shame written all over her face.
I know she’s worried I’m gonna tell her to kick rocks because I can. If I do though, where does that leave her? On the street without a job, and not a clue as to what she wants out of life. She’s a good fuck and she stays in line when the old ladies are around. Hell, Tyrant and Blair have her babysitting their kid. I’m not about to fuck that up for them or her.
But I won’t let her be misled or fooled again that somehow she is close to me. My boundaries are well-defined and never something I will adjust for pussy.
Ignoring her, I get out of bed with the used condom hanging on my now limp cock and make my way to my bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I don’t hear her leave, but I know she has at least left my room. Am I dick? Possibly. But I didn’t tell her anything she doesn’t already know. Some of the brothers probably let her sleep in their beds, and use their bathrooms to shower, clean up, whatever. I’m not one of them.
She knows her place. As a club whore her job is to serve the members of the club. If at any time she wishes to stop the service, she is welcome to. No one is holding her here and she damn sure isn’t forced to do anything against her will. Consent is something that a club whore can take back at any time, but they know they need to leave the property as soon as they don’t plan to be part of this anymore.
Twilah Jane is replaceable. She knows it. They all do. If they aren’t here to serve their purpose, then they need not be here at all. As for taking a shower in my room, that isn’t her place either. She’s not an old lady and need not get any ideas that she’s going to get that from me. None of them do.
After my shower, I move to my room, tossing on jeans, a plain navy blue t-shirt, my cut, socks and my boots. The typical uniform of the day for any brother in the Kings of Carnage MC. The shirt color and design doesn’t matter, but we all don’t go anywhere without our cuts. If we travel, from time to time, we have to remove them, but that is for safety and out of respect for other clubs if we are in their territory.
Making my way to the common area, I give a nod to Henley who is in the bar space putting out plates of bacon, sausage, eggs, biscuits and pancakes along with jars of his homemade jellies, or marmalades as he calls them. I don’t give a fuck what anyone calls the jars of deliciousness. Bottom line that man can cook. And he can party too. How he’s up cooking for all of us already, I don’t know, but I’m grateful for it. We all were drinking, smoking, shooting the shit until the early hours of this morning. Here this motherfucker is making a damn buffet with a hangover. A belly full of his food is a great way to start the day.