Page 23 of Owning the Prez’s Ol' Lady

After walking by one of their tables, I felt the familiar sting of a man’s hand smack my ass, making my entire body tense.

Forcing myself to suck back the tears, I turned around, painting on the fakest smile I could.

“Please don’t touch me,” I said, trying to keep my cool.

The grizzly biker held up his hands, laughing with his friends. “I didn’t do it,” he said innocently, though his smirk said otherwise.

“Can I get you guys something?” The man reminded me of one of Hoax’s men. His fading white beard and withered features aged him at least ten years. He smelt of pipe smoke, stale cigarettes, and alcohol. There was a significant gap in his teeth, and his eyes were steely and very menacing.

“Yeah, your number,” he said with a grin. “Or you could get on your knees and start sucking my cock like a good girl.”

This caused the whole table to howl with laughter, especially when the man started fiddling with his belt.

“I—I—”

“You got her speechless, Wingnut,” another guy exclaimed, elbowing one of his brothers in the arm. “I bet she’ll be sucking his cock by noon. Ain’t that right, sweetheart? You look like the type of chick that likes to get bent over and fucked in every hole. Maybe we all can get in a round?”

The second man gave me a putrid smile, showing me his decaying teeth and obvious gum disease.

“I call dibs on her sweet pussy first,” Wingnut exclaimed.

Bile rose in my throat.

“Then I guess that leaves me and Dirt her ass and mouth,” the ugly biker demanded. “Would you like that, sweetheart? Want me to choke you with this thick long cock while Dirt gets dirty with your sweet little pucker?”

The men started laughing again as my heart rate increased, and memories of the night Hoax and his buddies raped me came flooding back. Then I started to think about Snyder and the rest of the members in the club, how each of them was able to elicit raptures of pleasure from me. The contrast was alarming. How could two situations so different be so similar?

Shuddering, I tried to block the flood of emotions that took over, but I couldn’t. I felt unsafe, like at any second someone was going to grab me and take me without my permission.

Someone grabbed my arm and tried to yank me forward. The second I felt the unwelcomed touch, I screamed, jerking my arm back and almost stumbling backward.

“Don’t touch me!”

Seconds later, Joe appeared, standing between me and the men in cuts who were at the table.

“I believe the lady asked you not to touch her.”

“Oh yeah, tough guy? What the fuck are you gonna do about it?” Wingnut asked, standing to his feet.

“This is my diner, and I’m not about to have some asshole bikers show up and mess with my workers. Either play nice, or I’ll kick all of your asses out of here.” Joe wasn’t backing down. The fact that he wasn’t scared of the bikers at all was strange. It was like he was fearless, a trait I found sexy in a man.

The biker’s glare intensified, but instantly diminished when the two cops in the corner stood up.

“You’re lucky there are cops here,” Wingnut growled. “Or I’d be mopping your face with this fucking concrete floor.”

“You know where to find me,” Joe clapped back, making my anxiety even worse.

I put a reassuring hand on his chest, forcing him to look at me. “Joe, it’s okay. He just caught me off guard. It was just a misunderstanding.”

Joe’s jaw clenched.

“Yeah, Joseph, you heard the girl, it was all just a little misunderstanding.”

Joe didn’t back down, he just stood there staring at the men, and I swore I heard him growl. Like a deep guttural growl that made my lady bits purr.

Wingnut and his men must’ve heard it too because they all backed off, immediately going back to eating their food.

Joe turned to face me, his eyes dilated and nostrils flaring. “Are you okay, Shasta?”

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