Page 136 of Outlaws of Tulsa

As long as he stays off my ass and away from my girl, I don’t give a fuck what he does.

My girl?

Yeah, right.

Stormy is not my girl. She’s my responsibility. One with a long commitment. Worse than a damn dog because she talks back. At least she’s fucking hot.

It’s going to take everything in me to get through breakfast with these idiots, but at least I no longer feel like Dragon’s going to pull some crazy shit.

I am jealous.

Fuck.

Bermuda has finally warmed up to Stormy much to my irritation. If she keeps flirting with them as they clean up the kitchen, I’m going to blow a gasket. I think she’s doing it on purpose too. Like last night. Prancing around in no fucking bra. It was nearly impossible not to bend Stormy over a weight bench and fuck her into next week. If it hadn’t been for the storms rolling in, I probably would have too. It’s a miracle I didn’t strip her down and drive into her last night in the closet.

Instead, I fucking cuddled with her.

I’m in some serious mental shit with this girl. I know she fucked us all over with her lies and personal agendas, but try telling my dick that. My dick wants to do just like Dragon said. Play house. I want Stormy in all the impossible ways.

“Look,” Bizzy says from the floor where he’s sitting, Hansel’s head in his lap. “A thousand likes already.” He scrolls through his phone, his eyes lit up in surprise.

“You don’t have a thousand likes on your dick pic,” Dragon throws back from where he’s sprawled out on the sofa like he’s king of my fucking castle.

Katana’s lips curl into a small smile at his dig at Bizzy.

“No, crazy asshole, my dick pic has ten million likes,” Bizzy jokes with a laugh that makes his stomach jiggle. “I’m talking about our boy.”

Gibson’s cheeks flame red. For a badass biker who I’ve seen in action and know for a fact can hold his own in a fight, he blushes like a fucking teenager.

Dragon sits up, amusement setting his evil green eyes on fire. “Wait. Gibson has a dick pic? Let’s see.”

“I want to see,” Stormy calls out from the kitchen.

“You’re grounded. Forever,” I bark back to her. “No dick pics. Ever.”

She sticks her tongue out at me. I wink at her and then grin in a way that lets her know I’ll show hermydick one day if she’s a good girl. The smile she tries to hide makes said dick thicken in my sweats.

“It’s not his dick, fuckers,” Bizzy grumbles. “It’s his music. The other night at the Q, I took a video of him playing some Hank Williams Jr.” He mashes a button and Gibson’s voice croons from the device. “Oh, look, the bitches all want to have his baby.”

Gibson shakes his head, clearly embarrassed by it all. Bizzy is shameless as he reads off several comments.

“Marry me, baby,” Bizzy reads aloud in a girly voice. “I’ll be your baby momma.” He snorts. “Wanna be my sugar baby, honey?”

We all laugh when Gibson tries to steal Bizzy’s phone. Hansel gets feisty and nips Gibson on the ass. Bizzy’s face is red from laughing and he continues reading the comments.

“Come to Tennessee, country boy, and we’ll make some music together,” Bizzy says, still in his woman voice. “My band’s called…” He cackles. “Barnyard Belles.”

Dragon kicks out a long leg, nudging at Gibson, who’s now sitting on the couch pouting like a girl. “Barnyard Belles. Kinda catchy.”

Gibson flips him off, his face still bright red.

“I think it’s sweet,” Stormy sasses from the kitchen.

“Don’t you dumbasses think you’ve overstayed your welcome?” I grumble. “Get out of my house already.”

They all ignore my ass.

“Oh,” Bizzy says, “here’s another one. You’re incomparable, and I can make you a star.”

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