Part 3 (1/2)

Her eyes were still on Sebastian, who was beginning to look amused at my annoyance with the woman.

Instead of answering, I waited until the rude waitress looked at me before answering. ”I would like a sweet tea, please. The little girl down on the end,” I said pointing at Max and Katy. ”Would like a corndog platter with a sweet tea.”

She smiled sourly at me before turning her gaze back to Sebastian. ”And for you?”

”I'll have the same as her. Only I don't want lettuce or mustard.” He answered, not even giving her his eyes. Instead, they stayed on me, and my face started to flush.

Elliott, the comedian of the Free group, laughed.

Elliott was the type of man you would consider the cla.s.s clown. Despite the humor, he also had one h.e.l.l of an intensity about him. He came off as the joker, but if you watched his eyes, you could tell that he was also hyperaware of his surroundings. He was the shortest and smallest of the group, but that didn't mean he was a runt by any means. At 5'11 and two hundred pounds, he reminded me of a runner or a swimmer; even a surfer with his s.h.a.ggy blonde hair.

”Oh, man,” he wheezed. ”You are so f.u.c.ked.”

My eyes traveled from Sebastian's amused ones to Elliott's mirthful ones. What the h.e.l.l were those two talking about?

”Don't worry about them, honey. How was work today?” Blaine, Elliott's wife, asked me.

Blaine was just Blaine. No words could really describe her. She was cute. Like a fairy. She was what I pictured Katy growing up to look like.

She was on the small side; okay, more like the tiny side, since she was about four inches shorter Elliot and skinny as a wisp. Her hair was blonde and styled to perfection, and her cute little floral patterned dress fit her perfectly.

She was also the first one to welcome me into the Free group of women, and I counted Blaine as one of my closest friends.

Sebastian I watched as the woman, Baylee, tried her hardest to figure out just what Elliott, the little weasel d.i.c.k, was talking about, and failed. She looked overtly confused, and it amused me to watch the wheels turning in her head.

And what a gorgeous head it was.

She was around five and a half feet, about one hundred and thirty pounds, and smoking hot. She was the exact type of woman that I'd always been attracted to, yet never dated because they had an air about them that clearly said, 'Relations.h.i.+p only material.'

However, I was willing to make an exception, for once. The woman had an a.s.s that could make a grown man cry and those muscular thighs of hers, the ones I'd seen in nothing but tiny f.u.c.king skirts and shorts, just begged to be pressed close to her chest while I f.u.c.ked the ever-loving s.h.i.+t out of her.

Her hair was dirty blonde and hung down to about mid back in soft waves. It was the perfect length for me to sink my big hands into, and yank back while I took her from behind. The bangs at the front were parted and off to the side, tucked neatly behind each ear. Each time she spoke or moved her head, they would slip from behind her ear, and my fingers itched to brush the strands back into place with a ferociousness that surprised me.

She was wearing a black halter-top, a tight blue jean skirt, and sparkly flip-flops that fit her personality perfectly.

Don't let me forget those bright f.u.c.king yellow panties that molded to her a.s.s like a second skin underneath that skirt, either.

When I'd seen her in the car, a.s.s in the air, cursing as she tried to make her way out of the backseat, I'd nearly come in my pants like a p.u.b.escent little kid.

I had complete control over my body. That included my d.i.c.k. I came when I wanted, and how I wanted. No excuses. For the woman currently speaking sweetly to Blaine, the weasel d.i.c.k's wife, to produce that sort of reaction in me was a bombsh.e.l.l to say the least.

h.e.l.l, even when the woman had walked in on me taking a p.i.s.s, my d.i.c.k had been so hard that I'd had to stop peeing so I didn't miss the f.u.c.king bowl.

Earlier, when I'd asked about the little girl, and then the man the girl belonged to, I'd been like a feral dog with the last piece of meat. h.e.l.l, I'd barely been able to keep myself seated. What I really wanted to do was shout out, 'She's mine, f.u.c.kers.' Yet, I'd managed to stay seated and watched Elliott out of the corner of my eye, smiling like a f.u.c.king cat that ate the G.o.dd.a.m.n canary.

Oh, and let's not forget to mention the fact that Luke Roberts was her brother. Luke and I have not seen eye to eye since we'd met about three years ago, when I'd been in an accident that had taken the life of my child's mother.

The accident had been totally and completely f.u.c.ked up.

I'd been following Max's wife, Payton, when she'd left to go to work. Payton was a cute, s.p.u.n.ky little thing that I thought was cute as h.e.l.l. Although I'd never f.u.c.k her, I liked her personality, and the way she kept Max on his toes.

Why was I following her? I couldn't f.u.c.king tell you. My father had a f.u.c.ked up sense of smell that always told him when trouble was afoot and surrounding his kids. I'd been following Payton because one of the other members of the club had lost her, and I'd picked her up on a side street where I was meeting my ex, Lindsey, for lunch to discuss our situation involving our son.

I'd tried to just leave, but the woman refused, even going as far as to jump on the back of my bike, holding on with everything she was worth.

I'd never given her a ride before. I'd never given anyone a ride before. I had a rule that if I was going to ride, it was going to be alone. Except, I'd allowed her to ride. Even though every cell in my body urged me not to. Look how that ended.

That act had cost her her life.

I'd only thought the ride would be just to the street and back so I could keep an eye on Payton's car. When the prospect who'd been following Payton finally made his appearance, I'd gone through the intersection, pa.s.sing Payton's car, and was. .h.i.t broadside, throwing both Lindsey and myself from the bike.

Lindsey had been dead on impact. It was only the quick work of Payton and Gabe, another member of Free, which kept my son from dying right along with Lindsey.

I hadn't been as badly hurt, but the two collapsed lungs had f.u.c.ked with my heart, and I was in the hospital for over two weeks, and couldn't see my son.

A few days later when I'd found out that the same b.i.t.c.h was in the hospital two doors down from me, I'd taken care of the loose end.

Let's just say that she was no longer a problem after that.

That's where Luke had appeared in my life, asking questions, and poking his nose where it didn't belong.

So, in all, Baylee spelled trouble, with a capital T.

Did that stop me, though?

h.e.l.l no.

”So where're you from?” I asked Baylee, interrupting her conversation about shoes with Blaine.

Baylee's eyes traveled to mine slowly, and then she smiled. ”Caspar, Wyoming. You?”

”Texas. Galveston.” I answered immediately.

My explanation sounded abrupt, but I couldn't get my f.u.c.king tongue to work right. Closing my eyes and forcing myself to stop acting like a blus.h.i.+ng bride, I took a drink of my beer and moved my eyes to Baylee's full lips.

f.u.c.k, but then I started imagining her with those beautiful Cupid 's bow lips wrapped around my hard c.o.c.k, touching the base of my d.i.c.k as I plowed deep down her pretty little throat.

What the f.u.c.k was wrong with me?

”Luke said he wanted to take Katy there soon. Do you live there or here?” Baylee asked sweetly, jolting me out of my daydream.

”Uhh,” I said smartly. ”Neither. I live in Benton, Louisiana now. I don't visit home very often. My mom's there, so every other Christmas my sister and I head down there to show our faces, and then come right back.”

”Then what are you doing here?” She asked, confused. ”Is this where your sister lives?”

”Yeah,” I pointed at s.h.i.+loh. ”That's my sister right there. s.h.i.+loh.”

s.h.i.+loh let out a wave when she saw me pointing at her, and I smiled before turning back to Baylee.