Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
WAR
My gaze tracks my sexy witch, my cock thickening in my costume that Lottie made me wear.
A fucking prison jumpsuit— she thought it was apt since I have spent time behind bars.
The woman who caught my attention as soon as she walked in with her friends dances for me. She knows I am watching her; fuck, she knows the effect she is having on me because she saw me adjust my dick.
Dressed as a sexy witch, her costume fits her perfectly. The long sleek dress hugs her body like it was made for her. The slit that stop at her hip gives me a perfect view of a thigh that will soon be wrapped around me while she screams my name.
The tights with spider webs on them, and spiked heels which could pierce a man’s cock if he pissed her off enough, make her legs go all the way up. Blonde thick waves fall down her back and look perfect for wrapping around my fist as I fuck her from behind, giving us both what we want.
After my wife, no woman has ever provoked such a reaction in me, but this woman—she sparks feelings I never thought I’d crave again.
Damn, there’s something about her that stirs up a hunger deep in my chest, a longing that feels foreign and yet achingly familiar. She hasn’t touched me, hasn’t even spoken a single word, and still has my body reacting in ways I never wanted again.
There’s power in that, and I am not sure I want to get mixed up in it.
I like my life as it is; I do not want to add a complication.
Yet, I want to know what her voice sounds like, if it’s as smooth as the curve of her hip beneath that dress. I want to see if her body moves in a similar way when I fuck her as to how she is moving right now on the dance floor.
The more I watch her, my resolve frays with every passing minute; I can’t remember the last time anticipation tasted this electric.
“She is a friend of a friend of Lottie's.” Locke speaks when he leans against the wall next to me.
I am up against the back wall watching the room, or should I say, watching her.
“What is her name?”
“Cleo.” Locke smirks. “Lottie is friends with her cousin, Steffy. They spent some time together in college.”
“Cleo.” I roll her name around my tongue and fuck me, I like it.
Her gaze meets mine as she dances with Taya, Smoke’s Ol’ Lady, the corner of her mouth that is painted blood red with lipstick tilting in a seductive smirk, beckoning me to her.
Fuck me, my cock wants to go to her.
“Brother, that woman spells trouble with a capital ‘T.’ Was speaking to Brute and Intel, and it seems Cleo knows about MCs.”
That drags my attention away from the woman. My eyes narrow on my brother, as he looks at me with humor on his face.
“Do we know what club? Does she have an Ol’ Man?”
“She never went into full detail, just that she knew what clubs were like.”
“Maybe Intel should have looked into these women before they got here.”
“Why would he? My woman trusts them. She knows Steffy from college, and the girl comes with her affiliation, so they come with trust.”
I listen to Locke speaking, but my focus is back on Cleo across the room. She is now sitting at the bar with Sniper, and I grit my teeth because the motherfucker is crazy. He would not hurt her, but he scares the piss out of people to test them.
Her lips wrap around the straw of her drink, making my mind scream with need to have them wrapped around my cock, her lipstick leaving behind the evidence that she sucked me off.
Most nights when I feel the need to get rid of the tension in my body from travelling, I pick up a woman. No name, just raw sex and then nothing but cold sheets. I’ve never cared to make any of it last.
Watching Cleo, something gnaws at me, a feeling I can’t shake. It’s not just the way her body moves or the sly smiles she gives. Maybe it is the thought of her coming undone, breathless and wild from my tongue, fingers, and cock.
I sure as fuck want to find out.
For the first time in a long while, I almost want the feeling to linger.
“You claiming her for the night?” I hear Locke’s question, but I do not look at him, my gaze trained on the couple at the bar.
Cleo has her hand on Sniper’s arm, looking at his tattoos, and he is looking at her watching him. The Army fucked up his head; he feels no pain or fear.
Locke said she worked at a tattoo studio and by looking at her own ink, it is clear that she tattoos but is also fascinated by them, with the way she is inspecting Sniper’s ink.
My fists clench at my sides, and I hear Locke chuckle.
“Brother, she is not yours, and you have not even claimed her for the night. He has every right to have her. As much as he is fucked up in the head, he would never hurt a woman. You know this. If she loves rough sex, then Sniper will give her everything she wants.” He pats me on the back and walks away.
The woman I have been watching all night has fucking bewitched me and she doesn’t even know it. She has me in knots and we have not spoken one word to each other.
Needing to take my mind off wanting to kiss the shit out of this woman and strangle the fuck out of my brother, I head to the bar. As I cross the room, I feel her eyes on me, and I have to say, I fucking like it.
For years I have not cared for women’s attention beyond busting a nut, but she has me feeling shit that I locked away when I buried my wife.
The men of the club plus my parents have told me that my wife would not have wanted me to live my life like this. She would want me to find love again, but she holds my heart completely.
No one has made me think that I could try and move on, but as I look down the bar, the sexy witch is stirring emotions in me that I am not sure I want stirred.
Facing the back wall of the bar area, the long mirror that sits behind all the bottles gives me an ample view of the club living it up tonight. Placing my glass back down onto the bar, my heart jerks in my chest.
A black feather flutters down from above, settling right next to my hand.
Like a flash, I spin around, looking to see who dropped it, or if someone wearing a costume with feathers is in the room.
My thoughts spin when I find no one close to me, and no one wearing black feathers.
Turning back to the item, I pick it up, closing my eyes and bringing it to my nose, my heart hammering in my chest when I scent vanilla and pine.
My wife’s favorite scents.
My lips form a smile thinking about her, and I can’t help but think this is a sign from her. With my thoughts on Cleo, maybe she is giving me permission to have something like we did.
Turning around, I lean back against the bar, my glass in hand, the feather tucked into my pocket for later. Tilting my head to the side, I see Cleo still speaking to Sniper. Whatever the fuck he just said to her makes her eyes go wide, her lips parting before she bursts into laughter.
Fuck, I want to be the one to make her laugh.
This woman is messing with my head and she doesn’t even know it.
She touches his arm and I see the second his body tenses, so I brace, ready to jump in and protect her because Sniper does not like to be touched.
With my heart hammering in my chest, my body is poised, ready to strike.