Page 31 of Thornhill Road

Then he remembered how turned on she’d been when they got back. All he had to do wasbreatheon her, and she was coming. It made him hard just thinking about it.

No way was he done with her. Not by a longshot.

Nevertheless, it was Sunday morning. He needed to get showered and changed before he went to pick up his girl.

He’d deal with Tess later.

Mustang got out of bed, gathered what he needed, then headed down the hall to the communal bathroom to get a shower. He wasn’t in there two minutes before he heard the door open.

“Mustang—that you in there?”

He recognized her voice. Charity, a club sheep. She’d been around for a couple years, hoping to be claimed as someone’s ol’ lady. Pretty as she was, he knew her chances were low. She’d fucked half the guys in the club—including him when she first started hanging around—but now she was used up. Hard for a man to claim a woman after he’d seen her take more than a few brothers’ dicks.

“What do you want, Charity?” Mustang called from the stall.

“Just wondered if you wanted some company is all?”

Tess rushed to the forefront of his mind.

Her dirty blonde hair, more dirty than blonde, that he liked a whole lot out of a clip.

Her gorgeous golden-brown eyes, and that perfect mouth.

He reheard her moan when he’d kissed her beside his hog.

He shook his head, mad all over again he’d woke in bed alone.

“No,” he grumbled in response.

“Alright,” said Charity on a sigh. “Holler when you’re done, I guess. I’m up on bathroom duty.”

He finished his shower, wrapped a towel about his waist, and didn’t holler anything on his way back to his room. Five minutes later, in fresh underwear, a clean shirt, and the jeans he’d worn the night before, he tightened his boots, grabbed his kutte, and was out the door.

He couldn’t help but think of Tess as he started his hog.

When he pulled into his garage only to hop off and climb into his truck, he was actually relieved for the reprieve. He told himself the next time he got on his hog he was going after Tess.

It only took him five minutes to get to Trix’s place. She lived on the second floor of a quadplex. It was old, if not yet rundown, and he knew she could afford better. He paid enough child support. The only reason he didn’t bitch about it was because she was conveniently close to his house. He’d learned the smart thing to do with Trix was pick the right battles, and that wasn’t one of them.

He took the stairs two at a time. When he reached her door, he rapped his knuckles against it and waited. He stood there long enough he was considering another knock when he heard the lock give way. One look at Trix, and he knew she was high.

He didn’t even waste his breath but brushed her aside as he crossed the threshold. He got two steps and saw someone on the couch lighting up a joint. Mustang paused, glared back at Trix, then made his way around to the front of the couch. The man sitting there barely had a chance to register him before Mustang had him on his feet, his shirt balled up in his fist.

Startled, he dropped the joint, and Mustang crushed it with the toe of his boot.

“Hey!” he muttered.

“What the fuck?!” cried Trix.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you’re gonna know me.” Mustang ignored Trix even as she came to stand right next to him. “If I ever catch you smokin’, getting’ high again when my little girl is here, I’ll see to it you don’t inhale without excruciating pain for the rest of your pathetic fuckin’ life. You understand me?”

“What are you doing?” Trix pounded her fists against his shoulders. “You son-of-a-bitch. Let him go!”

Mustang shoved the man back onto the seat, then used his forearm to brush Trix out of his way a second time. She called after him but didn’t follow as he headed for the back of the unit, and he ignored her.

He popped his head into MK’s open door but found her room empty. He saw Trix’s door was closed, and he stomped down the hallway, opening it without delay.

MK was sitting cross-legged on the bed, her attention glued to the television.

---