Page 32 of Blood of Vengeance

With that, I headed for the front door, still holding Locklyn’s hand and making sure to keep my body directly in front of hers. I wanted to block her as much as possible, to keep her from capturing the attention of any of the brothers who might have had a little too much to drink. Or worse.

“Flinch.” The prospect at the door nodded in respect. “Cutter’s waiting for you in the meeting room.”

“Thanks.”

I moved to walk by, but he leaned to look past me. To look right at Locklyn.

“Hey, beautiful. Why don’t you set that ass on my chair tonight and let the big dogs handle their business?”

My wolf—already on edge from our little dry hump on the ridge—snapped. We growled loud and long, stepping closer to the prospect, making sure his wolf understood how outmatched he would be in a fight. “Don’t ever fucking talk to her.”

Locklyn grabbed my arm, hanging on to me with both hands as she inched closer. “It’s fine. Just keep moving.”

It wasn’t fine, but I wasn’t about to argue with her. I also wasn’t going to make her spend one extra minute in the clubhouse with all the brothers watching her, because every eye in the place seemed to be minding our business instead of its own. Nosy fuckers.

But I couldn’t just let it go.

“You ever talk about her ass again, and I’ll break your spine so you can eat your own.” And without another moment of attention wasted on the prospect, I headed deeper into the club, keeping Locklyn as close as possible. Holding on to her hand and reining her in tight against me. But that closeness didn’t block out as much as I had hoped, and eventually, she stopped in the middle of the floor. When I felt the tug and turned, the nervous expression she wore as she took in the chaos didn’t surprise me, but I hated it anyway. This woman was not ready for my world. Not yet anyway.

I stepped into her body, blocking out most of the scene around us. Using physical contact to regain her attention. Or as much of it as I could, considering how distracted she seemed to be. Once I had at least a good amount of her gaze on me, I leaned in close, rubbing my cheek against hers as I brought my lips to her ear. “What’s up, short stack?”

“Are they always so—” she looked around, gaze landing on mine every few seconds before flitting off to take in the club, brow tightening with every return “—outgoing?”

That question stumped me. Outgoing? I looked past her, investigating more of the room and trying to see it through her perception. Watching my brothers being themselves—drinking, laughing, playing darts. Nothing too crazy. Nothing outgoing.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

She nodded toward the opposite corner—one not in my visual field—so I moved to step behind her, pressing my body against hers and grabbing her by the hips. Making my claim well-known and taking in the sight of about ten brothers all playing pool. We had four tables, and three had some standard games playing out on them. The fourth, well…that was a different story.

“That table slants,” I said, assuming her “outgoing” comment from earlier was in regard to the fourth table. I slid my hand up her ribs and pulled her body against mine. Enjoying the feel of every inch pressed against me as I leaned over her to keep my mouth near her ear. “No one uses it for pool.”

“Are they…” For the first time, Locklyn seemed dumbfounded. Unable to finish her words.

I pulled her tighter against me, making sure to seat her ass firmly against my dick. “Fucking? Yes. They are definitely fucking.”

She breathed out in a huff, her entire body going through a quick shiver in my arms. “All of them?”

Because there had to be ten brothers around the table and who knew how many of the club pussy had chosen to join in. Legs and arms and hair abounded, the pile of people in various states of undress too chaotic to make heads or tails of exactly who was where and with which partner. Not really all that unusual, to be honest. With shifters, sex was a no-holds-barred experience.

“Whoever wants to participate can.” I growled low and soft, making sure I had every ounce of her attention. Pulling my lips back over my teeth when I saw the hair rise on her skin. “What’s got you all tangled, short stack?”

She shivered again then turned, keeping her body pressed against mine even as my hands found themselves climbing up her rib cage. “Have you ever fucked women on that table?”

Every muscle locked down as my brain went completely sideways. Fuck, I had a feeling she wouldn’t like my answer.

But I would never lie to her.

“Yes.”

Those green eyes darted up to meet mine. “Really?”

Time to get really fucking honest. I crouched a bit, getting right into her face to block out the rest of the club. Making sure I held her gaze. Making sure she heard every word. “Have I fucked club pussy on that pool table in the past? Yes, I have. Years ago, when I was new here and figuring out the culture of the club. I swung my dick around this bar just like the rest of them. Will I ever again? Fuck no.”

“Why not?”

I wanted to tell her the truth. To tell her she was the only woman I wanted on my dick, and the only man who should be privileged enough to see her come was me. That I wanted every hot, breathy moment with her to be mine and mine alone. I was a cleanup man—I would clean up her sexual history so only I would know her juicy secrets. Kill every man—or woman—who had been gifted access to the sweet cherry-scented place I longed to be. Grind up their bodies, destroy all evidence, and walk away happy, knowing I would be the only man left alive who had ever felt, seen, smelled, or tasted her sweet pussy. I would do it all without a second fucking thought.

But she wasn’t ready for all that just yet, so instead, I growled again, running my nose up her cheek. “Why? You feel like joining in?”

---