Page 8 of Biker's Enemy

“I said a better idea,” I reply. “Not a legal one.”

The apartment door opens and it’s clear that Juliette is home. I can hear her talking from the doorway along with a baby babbling along in an attempt to match the rhythm and cadence of her mother’s speech. Hunter presses a finger to his lips, but I don’t need to be told to keep club business away from an old lady.

I rise to my feet out of politeness, and Juliette turns the corner, not just holding Mackenzie, but with a woman. Holy shit, look at the ass on that woman. And the tits. She’s full-figured all right. The entire room fades around me, if I’m honest.

I just see this woman standing next to Juliette and become fixated with her instantaneously.

“Hello, ma’am. I’m Tanner.”

Juliette steps between us. “Don’t look at her. Don’t talk to her.”

That makes me want to look and talk to her even more… Unlike me, this gorgeous woman has some type of respect for Juliette’s command. She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t give me a second glance and that lack of attention feels like a purposeful jab. What the hell is wrong with Juliette? While Quin looks away, I get a damn good look at her and experience no remorse for doing so.

Quin looks like she has a nice, tight pussy. Women that big usually do. There is something about a plus-sized woman who is somewhere in the super-plus-sized range that does it for me. Quin gets my dick hard instantly. I don’t even mind that Juliette can tell.

“Hunter,” she says sternly. “Are you going to intervene or let him keep acting like a pervert?”

“Can you relax, Juliette? He’s introducing himself.”

That sexy ass chocolate cupcake with extra frosting steps aside from Juliette and I can tell immediately that everything about my appearance impresses her. That doesn’t surprise me. I have meticulously built my body since I was sixteen-years-old.

I obsess over everything I eat and how I spend every minute of my day. I find a woman like this one… fascinating. The race thing doesn’t bother me. I know the rules. Screw black women, don’t marry them. My father understood that sometimes a man has dark urges.

None of those urges are as dark as the ones that strike me in the presence of this voluptuous woman. I don’t even care about her name. I just want her clothes off, my tongue in her pussy and my face squeezed between thick ass thighs.

“My name is Quin.”

Juliette glares at me as I take Quin’s hand. This is not the time for a normal handshake. I take her hand and kiss it. Fuck. She smells like an Oreo milkshake. I can’t take my eyes off her, but her eyes dart away quickly.

“Okay, we’re getting out of here,” Juliette says, glaring at me. “Stay far away from the studio. We’re discussing women’s business.”

Hunter gives her a look that I don’t quite catch. Juliette ignores him and walks off with Quin in tow. Her friend moves a lot more slowly than Juliette. I can’t tell if it’s because she’s less athletic, less angry, or because she wishes she could stay in the kitchen with me. I don’t bother hiding the fact that I’m watching her ass as she walks away.

Once they’re out of earshot, Hunter chastises me like he’s some fucking priest.

“You don’t have to stare at her like you want to eat her.”

“I want to do a little more than eat her.”

He scoffs. “That’s what you think. That chick is seventy shades of fucked up.”

“She must be what… three hundred pounds?”

“Who gives a fuck?” Hunter says, sipping on his soda. “We’re here to talk business, not pussy.”

“Can’t talk business until I talk pussy.”

He knows I have the upper hand here and he hates it.

“There’s nothing to talk about. She spent the past year stuck in a bed. Juliette says she barely recognizes the chick.”

“She’s gorgeous.”

“She’s fucked up. Don’t even think about it, Cash.”

“Why not?”

Hunter looks around like someone might come popping out around the corner.

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