I opened the door and took a step back, allowing him to enter my safe space that suddenly felt too small and filled with heat.
“What’s up?” I questioned, putting as much distance between us as I could.
“About the other day...”
“Huh?”
“You know? That shit with Tiffani.”
I chuckled. “The bitch fucking loved it.”
He seemed uncomfortable. I bet I could loosen him up by bending him over my bed and taking him hard and fast from behind. That would fucking loosen him up real quick.
“What about her?”
He looked around nervously. “There’s talk she’s got the clap.”
My stomach clenched.
“All girls are supposed to be clean. They aren’t supposed to stray outside club members.”
“I know. I used a condom, but I noticed you weren’t.”
“You and your fucking condoms...”
Skid’s eyes narrowed. “Just because you and the fucking rest of the club run around without your tally whackers wrapped, doesn’t mean I have to as well. I fuck strapped or I don’t fuck.”
His vulgar words sent shivers straight to my dick, engorging the bulbous head until it was tenting my jeans. Instinctively, I gripped my cock and adjusted the massive hard-on I was sporting.
His eyes focused on my hand, then he licked his lips, wetting that furious pout with a tongue I’d like a taste of.
“I was just trying to help, but if you want to get the clap, that’s on you.” He started for the door, and my heart beat loudly in my chest, begging for him to stay.
His eyes widened when my fingers curled around his bicep, and my eyes darkened with unbridled desire.
For a moment, he just stared at my hand, then his gaze slowly moved upward, focusing on my mouth that was clenched in frustration.
“Something you want, Brother?” he asked, a strange fire burning in his steely stare.
Yeah, you on your knees blowing my aching cock.
I brushed the thought from my head, wondering where that nonsense was coming from? I’d been a bottom for most of my life, but standing near Skid had me wanting to claim him—being the top I was always meant to be.
Joaquin found it funny how easily I submitted to him. I wasn’t as big and brawny back then, and being in jail scared the ever-loving shit out of me. He was all I had, and without him I wouldn’t have survived. Becoming his bitch was a necessary evil—one that I would never admit to. Nobody will ever call Victor Ortega a bitch ever again.
He ripped his arm out of my grasp, taking a step away from me. “Just get yourself checked, Warrant. We don’t need that shit getting spread around the club. I’m gonna let Sabbath know that the bitch may be compromised and get the little whore checked out. Nobody needs that shit. Especially you.”
His words affected me in ways I couldn’t quite understand. A strange rush of hope creeped through me, like this man’s concern over my cock being clean, was the only thing I needed to hear.
“Yeah...” I said, my words hanging cryptically between us.
He started to move away, but before he could take two steps, my hand moved forward, gripping him by the bulge in his jeans. The abrupt movement widened those big brown eyes of his, and a shocked gasp formed the biggest fucking “Oh” I’d ever seen on someone’s mouth. My cock would fit perfectly between those lips. His eyes slid euphorically closed, but just as fast as that look of contentment came, it was gone, washed away by a disgusted scowl as he pushed me away.
“What are you,gay?” he asked, saying the last word like it was the most disgusting thing ever.
I totally read this man wrong.
“Fuck no,” I growled, my chest puffing up, ready to go for blows. “I was just checking if you had any balls between those legs. Because for some reason, you’re acting like a goddamn bitch. Who I fuck is none of your concern, Skid. So, back the fuck off. My junk is clean, and what I do with it is my business and not fucking yours.”