Page 3 of Jax

Hunter’s expression didn’t change. “Downstairs. Now.”

The slam of the door punctuated his disappearance and the girls jumped at the sound.

A man of many words as always.

The sigh that followed the sound of the door came out with a heavy breath as I looked down at my pitifully hard shaft.

Guess it’ll have to wait.

I stretched my arms above my head, hearing a creak in my bones, and I looked to the ground for the jeans I had been wearing last night. When spotted, I lifted the pair from the floor and to my face. My nose wrinkled at the smell. I shrugged.

It’ll do.

It was then that I heard the silk sheets rustle as the blonde reached up to brush a hand through her hair.

Snap.

Her hands retreated to her chest, eyes still closed, but her expression was a complete contrast. Her mouth watered at the sting on her hand as her other one cradled it against her breasts, but her lips were lined with confusion.

“Don’t move,” I commanded, letting the crop slide underneath her chin. Her head tipped upward obediently, reluctant to let the feeling of the leather leave her skin. The crop paused just where her jaw bone ended. She gave the softest of nods.

“Use your words.”

Her tongue darted out to smooth the saliva beginning to drip from the side of her pink lips, and with a deep swallow, she breathed, “Yes, sir.”

Much better.

I let the crop slowly travel back down her jaw, allowed her to lower her head. But I didn’t stop there. One warning would not be enough for these girls. I let the crop roll down the valley between the blonde’s breasts, watching her nipples harden into sharp nubs through the thin silk material of her bra, and followed the ridge of her ribs, her stomach, and midriff before it came to the smooth skin leading into the gap between her thighs. She probably had a matching pair of panties last night, but I knew I had made quick work of them at the end of the party.

“Not even a muscle.” I tapped the crop against the top of her mound and her stomach jerked. “Both of you.”

“Yes, sir,” the girls said in simultaneous rhythm, and fuck, they needed to be rewarded for such good behavior… but not right now.

I nodded but didn’t give them any affirmation as I tugged on my pair of jeans, not bothering to look for underwear since my aching dick would never be able to fit into them, then donned the last shirt on top of the cupboard from the diminishing clean pile. My cut was carefully hung up on the back of my door, and I took that too before putting my crop carefully on top of the wardrobe. Heading out the door, I left it ajar just in case another brother wanted a peek at my artwork.

Time to find out what this shit was about.

* * *

Quiet steps marked my arrival into the club’s main room, my heavy boots making a softened thump as I finished the last step. The lack of an echo and a creak made me feel a little lonely as I set my eyes on the newly refurbished room, which had to be done after an enemy gang had gunned the shit out of it. But still….

I had become so accustomed to the smell of whiskey, sex, and sweat embedded into every piece of furniture, along with the knife marks and gun holes decorating the wall and the creak of a hardwood floor, that the new space made me feel strange. The smell of new was not on my list of favorite scents. I preferred something a little more aged… something with a little more character.

It wasn’t as noticeable when my brothers filled the room, the character and age almost overwhelming by the dinosaurs themselves, but when there was only Hunter awaiting my arrival in the spacious hall, the effect was strong.

I ran a hand through my hair, pushing the growing length out of my face as I approached my closest brother waiting by the bar. I had been meaning to have it cut for a while, having no plans to join Hunter and Wolf in the ponytail club. Wolf’s had become so biker cliché that it attracted the spectrum of looks from everyone no matter where he went. I couldn’t be bothered with that. “So where is everybody?” I grumbled.

“Not here,” Hunter grunted.

“Well, I could figure that out, you ass.” I rolled my eyes. “Sarcasm is only cute on pint-sized blondes and redheads, not on six-foot and above brunettes.”

Hunter rolled his eyes.

“They’re outside in the parking lot.” He extended a large hand, and in it was a shot of strong whiskey. One of my favorite kinds of flavored water we kept behind the bar. None of it influenced me like my moonshine did, though rumors were reaching ears we didn’t need listening, so illegal liquor was out of the question for now. Until then there was little I could do but drink what was offered.

What I could do, however, was give Hunter the most suspicious look I could muster. “Why?”

I couldn’t be sure what he read from my face, but his own frown didn’t change. “You’ll need it.”

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