Page 4 of Property of Camo

Skyla is a strong bitch, never one to ask for help unless she really needs it. She will tackle any shit thrown at her, and fucking smile while doing it.

Lately, she has been hinting at me for different things, like going out to dinner or even fucking coffee. Do I look like the kind of man who wants to go on a coffee date?

Skyla is the type of woman who digs under your skin, one who makes it hard as fuck to let go, but I’m not ready for that shit. I can’t handle more than what we have right now.

She is not the only woman I am with; I get my dick sucked by the club girls, but I do not fuck them. I am a biker, so it is expected of me to play freely with the club girls. Pussy and whiskey is what we live by, unless you are paying a few hundred thousand dollars for a job, then I am all fucking ears.

Anger rushes through me, and I slam my fist down on my tank, my bike wavering for a split second.

“Calm it. Pres will not be happy if you lay that bike down.”

The voice in my head sounds and I scoff.

“Get out of my head, you creepy fuck.”

“Nah, brother, I like pissing you all off when you are fucking or taking a shit,”Cotton sounds in my head.

The fucker’s power is telepathy, and he uses our heads like a kid’s walkie-talkie toy.

I shake my head, chuckling. Cotton likes to fuck with us.

One time, Thorin was fucking some “blood pet” as he likes to call them, and Cotton started singing some Taylor Swift song. Safe to say, Thorin lost his hard-on and had to leave the chick. Cotton was on his shit list for weeks.

Arriving at the club, I am happy that I have calmed some, but I know that once I get in there, the guys are going to want to know why the fuck I am here and not buried deep inside Skyla.

Why did she have to go and ruin shit?

I know I can be cold and distant, but I need to keep her at arm’s length and just give her my cock, mouth, and fingers. That is all she is getting from me; I will not survive her getting hurt because of me.

She will never know that I am doing this for her.

Parking my bike, I take a breath, looking up at the old building that houses the clubhouse. Back in 1823, it was built as a ranch house for a rich fat fuck, then it got turned into a whorehouse as it was out of the way of the main city location and men liked to pretend that they were not dipping out on their wives who remained in the city, then finally a bar before we got ahold of it after the bar had a fire.

It has three stories: Pres and me getting the top floor split between us, each of the patched members with rooms spread out on the next floor down, and then the ground floor is where you will find everyone else. The kitchen, the main common room, and off to the side, thanks to a rebuild, is where the club girls sleep and take brothers to fill their holes.

Over the years, we have added to our land, and we have a fence that wraps around the entire property, making sure to keep stray folks out. It has a big ass iron gate that may look old, but it is re-enforced and has an electronic padlock that only members can use to get in, pretty much like all rooms here.

Pres, aka Winger, is none too careful about what goes on around his club.

Stepping into the main room, I see my brothers, some talking and having a drink, while over by the bar, which is nothing unusual, is Shift getting his cock sucked.

“Where the fuck did you fuck off to after the job?” Thorin asks before sipping from his drink.

What people may know now is that natural-born vampire can only drink blood, but humans who are turned can eat human food as well as drink blood. Thorin is just that: he got turned over one-hundred-and-two years ago by some cougar woman he was fucking, and she wanted a boy toy for the rest of her days, but that is his story to tell.

“He went to his woman,” Halen adds, and I flick the prick the bird, making him and the other men laugh.

“Not my woman.” I shrug, signaling for the prospect to bring me a beer.

“No? Well, if you are not claiming her then you won’t give a fuck if I give her a ride, too.” Halen pushes out of his seat, and a growl emanates from deep within my chest.

He smirks at me, sitting back down, and my fists clench on my thighs, my fingers itching to feel the crack of his jaw.

“Do not fucking fade, you cheating cunt. You want to fight me, you fucking fight where I can see you.”

He smirks at me giving him a menacing look, because he knows that if I fade out, he will not see me coming, and I will win every fucking time.

“Enough, you bunch of fucking misfits. Got a job for you, Camo. Take Thorin and Rush with you.” He hands me a piece of paper with a job on it.

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