He’ll want answers. They all do.
Answers I can’t give.
I run the cloth over the last of the tables and step back. Finishing my section and leaving it tidy after the lunchtime rush has become a routine that I’m proud of. Nancy, one of the other servers, is busy chatting to Reg, the owner, and I glance over at her section. It’s covered in food debris that her last bunch of messy customers shared with the floor, and my fingers itch to correct it. A need I’m unsure I’ll ever be able to break.
“Don’t even think about helping her,” Jolie says, taking the broom from my hand. “She’s shoving her tits in Reg’s face, hoping for a pay increase. She has time to clean her section.”
My eyebrows shoot up, and she continues. “She tries it at least once a week. Doesn’t even attempt to disguise the fact.”
If all you have to do is flirt to get a pay rise, maybe this is something I should try. I glance down at my ample chest. “Does it work?”
Jolie snorts. “Hell no, trust me, we’ve all tried at some point.”
I giggle. Since starting work at Reggie’s, Jolie has been the nicest to me. The single mother of four has taken me under her wing, and while I started out a nervous wreck, I’ve found the more I’m around people, the more confident I become.
“Here.” She shoves my denim jacket and purse into my chest. “Your shift finished”—she points toward the clock—“five minutes ago.”
A smile creeps over my face. “Thank you.”
She takes my apron from me and beams. “Go have a good evening, honey.”
I smile back at her as she playfully pushes me toward the door.
“You too,” I call, heading out the door. The sunshine hits me, warming me from the inside out, and I delight in the strength it brings, along with the sense of freedom my new life gives.
As I turn down the sidewalk toward the bus stop, a feeling of being watched sweeps over me, and for the first time in a while, I know I’m in danger.
It’s him.
KILLA
Hunter goes into our tattoo shop while I watch her from the shadows. She’s laughing with Jolie, a sweet woman who’s tried more than once to get into every club brother’s pants. The woman should come with a big warning sign. She’s screaming out for a baby daddy for all those kids of hers, but thankfully, not a damn one of us is dumb enough to go there.
After Savage got caught and put a cut on the back of his bitch of an ol’ lady, the only other club brother to be dumb enough to knock someone up was barely out of diapers himself when it happened.
We all saw how much he struggled when one Christmas he got more than he bargained for from Santa’s little helper—a screaming baby nobody knew what to do with. Hell, having a baby dumped on you as a teen, no wonder he barely has any kind of relationship with his son now. They can’t stand each other at the best of times.
We all definitely got the memo from that—wrap it before you tap it—and not once have I forgotten, no matter how much I want to sample some bare pussy.
My mind wanders to the little demon across the road; I bet her pussy is tight. I wonder if she’d cry out as I push inside her, if she’d beg me for more, beg for me to stop as I stretch her over my thick length.
I’d make her cry for me, scream my name from her pouty lips as she pleads for me to stop while her pussy tells me otherwise. I’d wrap my hand around her throat, bruising, bringing her right to the edge but not allowing her to go over. Her crimes would be punished by withholding her pleasure.
Then I’d pull my cock out of her dripping pussy and shove it so far down her throat she’d gag and gasp for a breath I wouldn’t allow her to take. She’d barely be able to speak; she would be raw for a month, and her lips would be so bruised there’d be no disguising the fact a man had taken his hate out on her mouth with his cock.
Flicking my joint to the ground, I readjust my thickening length with a grumble. “Fuckin’ Little Demon is a cock tease and doesn’t even know it.”
She throws open the diner door with a smile lighting up her face, unaware of me watching her every move and the hatred rolling off me.
Crossing the road, she heads toward me, so I push off the wall and straighten, ready to pounce.
A thrill zips up my spine. “Showtime, Little Demon.”
Her footing wavers as she approaches, and it isn’t until she casts those emerald eyes up toward mine that her smile slips, and my heart skips a beat.
“Miss me?” I smirk.
“What do you want?” she asks, with a bite to her tone that shocks me.
