Page 4 of Sunshine & Ink

I approached the President’s chair, willing my heart to stop hammering in my chest.

I can do this

The closer I got, the more frightened I felt. Up close, Raker seemed even bigger somehow, a giant of a man with slicked-back dark hair, dark stubble on his tanned face, and cold dark eyes. His face was all harsh planes, steeped in shadows.

He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt with his cut, the midnight markings of his tattoos curling out of his sleeves and down his powerful arms.

Even without looking at him, you could easily recognize him as the MC Prez by how the air felt around him—a charge, a spiraling raw energy that seemed to change the molecules between us. And you could tell by how the others treated him—deferentially and with caution, like you’d approach a poisonous snake.

My knees were almost knocking together, my soft dress sliding off one shoulder. I nervously dragged it back up. Maybe it would be better to just flee town.

His legs in those jeans were spread wide, impossibly thick thighs and long legs leading down to huge shitkicker boots.

I stopped a few feet away and was horrified to see his dark brows draw together.

“Didn’t they tell you anything, girl? Come closer so I can see you.”

My cheeks burning, I edged closer.

“How are you supposed to fuck me if you’re too afraid to get closer?” he asked, his lip curling up.

I noticed there was a jagged white scar running across his upper lip, and I wondered where he’d gotten it. Turf war with another gang? Defending Resurrected territory against MCs from other regions?

“I’m not afraid,” I said, feeling my insides turn over at the way his dark eyes bore into me.

I walked still closer until I was hovering in front of his legs, his knees so close I could have reached out and touched them.

“Are you here by choice?” Raker asked harshly.

I felt stung with writhing shame. How embarrassing to have to be asked that. Girls coming in to try to work at the club werenervous, but excited too. I must look like the greenest, most awkward thing.

“Yes,” I said, praying my voice didn’t sound like a squeak. “I’m just shy but I’m ready to work.”

Raker’s eyes took me in, a slow examination all the way from my strawberry blonde hair, falling in waves past my shoulders, down my dress where I could feel my nipples pebbling against the soft fabric, lingering at where my skirt fell against my thighs, then finally down my bare legs.

“What’s your name?”

“Sunni,” I said.

“And your last name?” he prompted.

“Twenty-Four,” I replied, feeling my muscles tense.

Unless you were in the MCs or one of the Founding Families, your last name was the street you were born on. There was no hiding who you were if you were Twenty-Four. That meant I was born on one of the lowest-income streets in the Resurrected territories.

Raker didn’t say anything about my street, but his big fingers tapped on the chair, in a rhythm that looked impatient and annoyed.

“You look like a scared little rabbit right now. Sunni, do you realize what this job entails? You would serve here atmypleasure. You would fuck who I chose and when I chose it. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, I do.”

“Then get between my legs and show me why I should hire such a scared little rabbit.”

His big legs fell apart, a dirty, lascivious move that made something turn over deep in my gut, a low naughty pull down in my pussy.

The knot of fear and excitement tightened as I knelt down between his legs, the wooden floor digging into my knees.Raker’s thighs were so big and powerful, and my hands fumbled at his zipper. But he said nothing about my awkwardness, just waited, taking another sip of his whiskey.

I undid the button with trembling fingers and drew his zipper down slowly.

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