Page 6 of What He Wants

God, I don’t know why I was suddenly thinking about Paul. Except that it had been a year since I’d simply walked, okay ran, away from him. My life was where I finally wanted it to be. I was free and able to breathe, but I didn’t enjoy the peace and quiet as much as I’d hoped I would. I was afraid that it wasn’t going to last. Nothing good did, right? Jasmine kept telling me to stop worrying over something that might never happen, to just live each day and enjoy my life, but every time my phone rang I tensed up, waiting to hear Paul’s voice. Every time the door opened I held my breath, expecting to see his face. I knew that if he ever did find me, he would probably kill me.

I finished up and made my way back downstairs. When I pushed through the curtain I came to a stop, surprised to see Jasmine at her sink washing Niles’ hair. That was a first! She was scrubbing his head vigorously, and I had to wonder if her intent was to make him bald. She was clearly not happy. Something alerted her to my presence and she turned my way, giving me a scowl. I bit my lip to keep from smiling and turned my interest on the tree.

Jasmine liked men, she liked flirting and flaunting herself around them, but it was a particular kind of man that drew her attention. Niles was not her type. He was too old, too nerdy- looking, and it appeared that he didn’t have a muscle on him, unlike the bikers who’d been parading in and out since we’d opened. Unlike one, big biker in particular. My pussy clenched, and I had to remind myself that he may be back on Friday for a haircut. Nothing else.

Certainly, nothing more.

Chapter 3

Big John

I sat back in the booth with a long breath, my gaze darting to the sweetbutt that was grinding her pussy on the stripper pole on stage. Sid was really working her hips, and I smirked, wondering if she was getting off. She looked like she was putting on a private show for the man sitting in front of her, her eyes locked onto his and her expression revealing that she was close to coming. I’d fucked that bitch a few dozen times over the years, and I’d have known if she was faking it or not. I waited, and then watched as she threw back her head and opened her mouth wide. Nothing came out.

I snorted. She wasn’t faking it.

I raised my arm to get Snake’s attention. He acknowledged me with a chin lift. “Beer!” I ordered. As I waited I observed what was going on around me. Some of the Christmas decorations had migrated to the bar area from the restaurant and club room. It didn’t surprise me that Hawk hadn’t put a stop to it, he fucking worshiped the ground Audra walked on and let her do anything that made her happy. Happy wife, happy life. The thought made me grimace.

That shit wasn’t for me, and neither were the festive decorations. The party, however, I was looking forward to. It was mostly for families and friends, but that didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be some new pussy there, and if there was a willing woman I intended to partake. Thinking of fresh pussy had me think about the woman from the salon, Daisy Mae Flowers, and how mouth-watering she’d been in that sheer blouse and pencil skirt. Fucking a woman in a skirt like that would have been impossible but, hell, trying would have been fun.

I remembered how the huskiness of her voice had caressed my dick like the touch of soft hands and made it jerk. I thought about her name, and decided that she must have been the product of some late-bloomer flower child, because who the fuck named their kid Daisy Mae Flowers? It was cute, and not a name that I’d likely to forget.

Neither was she.

Despite her age because she looked to be around twenty-five, and way too fucking young for me there was a tempting innocence about her that made me want to spoil her for other men. I’d sensed that she was afraid of me, but there was something else that she was afraid of more. Someone had hurt her. But I’d also picked up on the fact that she’d been interested in me, and damn, thinking about her smoking curves had sure interested me. I wanted to wrap myself around her and claim every part of her, every hole. For the first fucking time in my life I wanted to leave my mark on a woman.

I was talking bruises, bite marks, and plenty of my seed.

The thought made me angry.

“What’s got you looking so dark, brother?” Snake asked as he slid my beer over to me. My gaze shot up to his beneath my furrowed brows. I snarled at the happy smirk on his face, which only made him laugh. “Must be a woman.”

“Why does it have to be a woman?” I groused, picking up the bottle.

He shrugged. “You have that look.”

I was curious. “What look?”

“The same look I saw in Prez and Rock when their women first came to the club and were causing them grief.”

I snorted, taking a sip. “Screw you, asshole. I don’t have a fucking woman.”

“Well, brother-” I wanted to punch the knowing look off his face, “You’ve got that look,” he insisted. “The kind that says you’ve got some pussy on your mind and it’s messing with you.”

“Fuck off.”

Snake laughed all the way back to the bar. I put the bottle to my lips and chugged the whole fucking thing, and then slammed it down onto the table, drawing eyes my way. I ran the back of my hand across my mouth. It was Friday and I knew how I wanted to end my day. I’d go back to the salon to see if my attraction to Daisy was as strong as it had been a few days before. I would see if she reciprocated, or if the whole fucking thing had been my imagination. My gut told me that it had been real, my dick said he didn’t care, as long as he got inside her pussy.

The door leading to the back of the building where the clubhouse was located opened, and Lynn and Janet walked into the bar. Sid was leaving the stage, so I guessed that one of them was there to take her place. Snake ran the bar, and he always made sure that there were a couple of dancers to entertain the clients. Lucy was already doing her routine on the other side of the room. Between that, working behind the bar, and providing relief for the brothers, the women were kept busy.

They reaped the benefits of it, too.

The club offered them protection and bought them whatever they needed. They were there because they wanted to be there. Others had come and gone but most of them, except for Lucy, had been with the club for eight or nine years. They stayed because they had a good thing. And the brothers needed them. Needed what they provided after we’d gone to war or had to deal with club issues that revved us up and made our blood boil.

Fighting and fucking took care of a lot of shit that riding and drinking didn’t.

The back door opened again, and Clay stuck his head in and glanced around the club until his gaze landed on me. He jerked his head for me to come. I wondered what was up, he’d looked serious. I hit the door open in time to see him step outside. Hawk, Rock, Clay, Painter, and Ned were outside by the bikes, smoking and talking. I could tell by the way they held themselves that something was wrong.

“What’s up?”

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