Their voices are loud enough to carry through the poorly built motel and over the rumbling from the exhaust. It’s hard to tell if it’s a friendly visit with the heavy metal music playing amongst everything else. Despite my stomach telling me to stay in bed, that Viking can handle whatever’s outside, my feet hit the matted carpet.
I scoop up the thin sheet, wrapping it around me and make a beeline for the door.
Opening it enough to fit my body through, I lean against the doorjamb, curiosity spurring me on to be brave or stupid. Immediately I notice two of my father’s men, each standing next to a mean looking black beast of a car. The doors are wide open with the windows down, allowing the thumping from the rock music to escape into the parking lot.
Breezing over their cuts, I learn that the driver is my dad’s Enforcer, Cain, and the passenger with the bright Mohawk is the club’s Treasurer, Spin. They notice me immediately. Mohawk guy’s face lighting up as he runs his eyes over my sheet. The other guy stares, his forehead wrinkling slightly like he’s trying to place me from somewhere. He won’t be able to, though, my father’s never introduced me to these guys before.
The driver keeps talking through his curious gaze. “So ‘bout that barbecue, my Ol’ Lady’s cooking and she doesn’t mess around when it comes to food.”
Viking and a few of his brothers stand next to the bike Nightmare was working on yesterday afternoon, listening to my father’s men.
“Aye then, laddie, we’re always up for some good cooking.” A robust, red-haired man beside Viking answers in a Scottish accent. I’ve never seen him before, but he wears the same cut that Viking has, so he must be one of his Nomad brothers as well.
The Enforcer grins, a set of dimples coming out to play that make my stomach flutter a little. Fuck, he’s hot. He doesn’t have the same effect on me as Viking but damn is he nice to look at.
“Bring your Ol’ Ladies too. I know the girls would wanna meet them.” His friendly gaze meets mine causing Viking to glance between the other men and me.
The Treasurer stares openly at me as well, clearly enjoying what he sees and then like an afternoon storm coming out of nowhere, Viking’s irises blaze.
Facing me, his nostrils flare as he breathes deeply, taking in my bedroom attire. He looks upon me with such heat; I can’t stop myself from licking my lips nervously, remembering his taste. He had that same intense fire blazing last night while he took me relentlessly. He’d kissed me until I swore my face would be rubbed raw from his beard.
My fingertips lightly trace over my chin, finding a tender spot at the memory.
Spreading his legs out a little more, he crosses his arms over his chest, his shoulders becoming even wider by the new stance. His magnificent body’s completely imposing, overtaking more space than what should be allowed; it seems like he grows even larger as he commands everyone’s attention and points toward his room. With a deep grumble, coming out more like a growl he demands, “Get in the room.”
Huffing in irritation, my temper flares to life, ready to spit nails if necessary. I open my mouth to protest, and he dutifully cuts me off.
“Now, Cinderella.”
Glancing over to the men, I wait for someone to tell him he's ridiculous, but I notice they’re all staring at me, not him. They’ve got on amused smiles and smirks, entertained at this biker bossing me around. My gaze settles on Viking again.
His eyebrow lifts, almost in challenge. It’s like he’s warning me that he’ll put me in my place if I argue. This man clearly hasn’t seen every side of me; I don’t do well with taking orders. Well, orders that aren’t sexual anyhow.
He’ll learn—the hard way.
Keeping my mouth shut, I spin around and give them my back as my temper takes over. Being one that doesn’t easily relent, I slam the door behind me. Making sure the impact is strong enough that it echoes through the nearly empty room, sounding like a clap of thunder, making the fake art on the walls shake.
The guys outside chuckle loudly at my outburst and the thin walls of the motel allow the sounds to float inside, taunting me, angering me further. Gritting through my sore muscles and my ass that feels like it could be on fire today, I slide on my leather skirt.
Glancing around for my corset, I land on a new package of wife beater tank tops. Those will be much more comfortable than attempting to squish my tits back into my top from last night.
I hated wearing it. Damn thing squished me like crazy, but it was all about the look. Ruger had told me that Viking would for sure be at the bar last night, and I wanted any advantage I could think of to get his attention. I would never have returned to that place had I not known Viking was there along with Bethany, just in case I needed help again. I hate to ever feel dependent on someone like that, but I learned my lesson the first time, going outside alone, barely two nights ago. My arms and back still have the stupid scrapes to remind me of my bad judgment call.
Throwing a tank on, I practically drown in it, so I tie it up at my mid-back, leaving a sliver of skin on my belly visible. I’m probably looking like a hot mess, but I couldn’t care less. I’m making a point to this bossy biker, that he doesn’t give me orders outside the bedroom.
Shit fuck.I like him being such a demanding ass. It’s sexy to meet someone who’s so damn Alpha; at times I worry my panties will catch fire being around him. Oh wait, I’m not wearing panties. Regardless, he doesn’t need to speak to me like that in front of so many men.
Viking had been sweet enough to retrieve my purse from my trunk last night about halfway through our activities, so I snatch that up. Quickly, I shove my corset top inside the oversized bag that should most likely be classified as luggage rather than a purse. Tossing my shoes in also, which Viking admitted he’s a bit obsessed with, I shoulder the wide strap and head back outside, ready to leave.
Bethany’s standing next to Nightmare, this time, clad in his T-shirt and boxers with hair shooting every which way like she just climbed out of bed as well. I wonder if she got to hook up with him after all. When we went home to change she confessed that she was interested in him.
What’s it with these grouchy fucking bikers that pull you to them? Nightmare seems broody and miserable, but she’s still fascinated with him. Who am I to talk though? Viking could be classified as a quiet asshole, yet he has me twisted all over the place for him.
Nose and chin up, I use a dose of fake confidence strutting past the men and call back, “Come on, Bethany, we’re out of here.” Since I’m not in my high shoes and the gravel doesn’t bother my bare feet too badly, I put a little extra swing in my hips making a few of the guys’ mouths pop open.
Viking lets loose a frustrated growl, and it takes everything in me not to shoot him a smug smile in defiance. “Where do you think you’re going?” he demands, but I ignore him.
“I’m coming! Let me grab my stuff,” Bethany answers and runs back into Nightmare’s room.