Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
CLEO
Music pumps from the speakers. Drinks are flowing, and everyone is having a good time. The club girls dance around the men with their barely there costumes, dressed up or down, I should say, for the night, and most of the men are loving it.
The neon lights flicker across the walls, catching on the sequins from costumes and the wide grins of the happy people in the room. Laughter ripples through the air mixed with the music, while the familiar scent of whiskey and sweat weaves its way through the crowded room.
Bottles clink, voices rise, and the beat of the bass from the music settles into my bones—thumping, electric, alive, and unrestrained.
I am loving life, being free and feeling safe.
Brothers are at the bar, already buzzed, their laughter booming above the bass. Locke stands nearby, his gaze focused as he watches Lottie spin and twirl with us.
There’s a feeling of safety here, of being allowed to be who you are and not made to feel fear or being uncomfortable, locking away the world outside the club’s walls where no one can touch us.
My feet ache, my body buzzed and warm from the cocktails we are drinking. Yet, I would not change it for the world.
Friends can be family, and here right now, I am surrounded by my girls who are my family without a shadow of a doubt.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and not for the first time tonight, but I can never seem to locate who is watching me.
Needing to rest my feet, I slide onto a worn leather stool, the coolness of it making me shiver. I smile at the two men sitting on stools next to me, who I have to say, look like they stepped out of a biker magazine or one of the romance covers from the books that Harley writes.
“You having fun, baby?” the one with dark hair and eyes asks, then takes a pull from his beer.
Shifting my body so I can look at them better, I take them in and damn, they are hot. Night and day by the coloring of their hair and eyes.
“I am. The club sure knows how to throw a party, like most MCs.”
The dark haired one cocks an eyebrow. “You know another MC?”
“I do,” is all I say.
They look at me with an expression I cannot read, but I shrug and look around the room.
I spot a man leaning against the back wall talking with Smoke, and Tote, who I know is the club’s president. My body freezes and my breathing halts in my lungs.
My gaze scans his body, taking in his dark hair that seems to be shorter on the sides, longer on top. I can’t see the color of his eyes from across the room but they feel intense as they look back at me. I lick my lips, taking in his plump ones; God, I could suck on them all day.
A trimmed beard covers his jaw, and I bet that would feel so good between my thighs. I clench said thighs, watching the corner of his lips twitch into a smirk. Damn, that is sexy.
He is dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit, with the arms tied around his waist, and a white tank covering his upper body, giving me a full view of his tattooed arms and the ink that slides up his neck.
“That is War. A nomad.”
“Nomad?” I edge.
“It means that he travels around the country, not staying in any one location, or club, so to speak. He lives his life on the open road. A fucking dream when you need to clear your head, and there was a time when War needed to clear his head from all the fucked-up shit he went through but that, baby, is his story to tell.”
I nod and look back to the man I now know is called War, and he is still looking at me. My skin feels alive with his eyes on me, my breasts become heavy, and my nipples needy.
This man seems to draw me in. His gaze through his dark glasses pierces right into my soul. I can feel a pull toward him.
I knew that tonight would be one filled with wonder and sexual tension. It was in my stars that I would meet a person who would leave their mark on me, and I feel it deep that this man, War, will be that person.
“He will fuck you and leave you, honey. War is not a man to settle down. He has wounds that he never lets heal, and he likes it that way.”
I smirk to myself, and without breaking the connection between me and the man I plan on riding tonight, I murmur, “Perfect.”
I push to my feet and walk back over to my girls, who are still swaying and dancing to the music. I sidle up to Steffy, and we dance, grinding on each other, all giggling and loving life right now.
I grind down on Steffy, then feel one of the girls come up behind me.
Looking over my shoulder, I see that it is one of the club girls, and I giggle.
She is a sexy blonde with big breasts and they press against my back.
Cheering and whistles sound louder than the music, and I see the brothers smiling and clapping at the way we dance.
Moving my gaze, I find War looking at me. He licks his lips, his hand dropping, adjusting his dick in his orange jumpsuit, and my pussy flutters.
But then negative thoughts seep into my brain.
He is turned on by the club girl? I mean, it is her job to service the brothers.
Shit. My mood plummets a little, but I push it down, not wanting to ruin the night for the girls, or myself. I step to the table we were sitting at and drink back the three lemon drop shots that are waiting there.
The past has a nasty way of seeping into the present, trying to ruin what you have built up once you walk away from the pain. I sit, the burn of the shots tracing fire down my throat, and for a moment, the laughter and music fade as my body lets the alcohol take over.
Memories flicker in the corners of my mind—old heartbreak, the ache of promises broken, shadows of hands that once caused me so much pain.
Tonight isn’t for ghosts.
Licking my lips, I spin on my heel and rejoin my friends, letting everything go once again.
Tonight is for sensation, for letting go, for allowing the thrum of bass and bodies drown out the whispers that I try to keep locked away.
Me and the girls are all arms, smiles, and laughter. We dance, giggle, but my body keeps drawing my attention to one spot in the room.
The spot where he stands waiting, watching. He never makes a move as hours pass, everyone is drunk, and some are in various states of dress. Some people are even fucking, which is not my thing, but to each their own.
No kink shaming from me.
War’s eyes still track me, and heat blooms inside of me, making my body needy for him. The men I was talking to earlier said that he is a fuck them and leave them type of guy, so maybe tonight is my night to get fucked hard by a biker I plan on never seeing again.
Him being a nomad is perfect for both him and me.