Page 40 of Property of Camo

You did it too, fuckface.

I push that voice out of my head and leave the office. With my body still vibrating with anger, I leave Red Rope, then ride to the club.

Running from my feelings is something that I have trained myself to do. I always knew that I would never let myself fall for someone and end up like my lion friend.

Wind whips around me as I speed through the streets, my fingers tighten around the handlebars, my knuckles turning white with the force. Why the hell is this shit between Skyla and me so fucking difficult?

It was fucking great between us. I got what I wanted, she got hers, and then some.

For years I knew that I would find the one person who would hold my soul in their hands, but now that she is in my life, I am at war with my emotions.

Arriving at the club, I dismount my bike. My blood is hot, slithering through my veins, powering my anger and hatred for what is fucking happening in my life right now.

I ignore the gut feeling of dread, and that something fucking big is about to happen. Losing control is something that I do not do often but tonight my control slips.

Stepping into the club, I eye my brothers all sitting around drinking, some with the club whores. Ignoring the looks from my brothers, I grip the edge of the pool table.

My chest heaves with anger, the wood of the table creaking under the force of my grip.

“I can help you with that tension, Camo.” I turn my head and see Shaz standing next to me.

I look at her; she bites her lip, her tits almost spilling out of the top she is wearing. The offering is there and in my state I am too fucking angry to stop what comes next.

“Fuck it. Bend over, skirt up.”

She giggles, rushing to slide between me and the table.

“Camo.” I hear the warning in Winger’s voice but I ignore him, my blood pumping harshly around my body, carrying my rage and disappointment.

Dealing with my belt, button, and the zipper of my jeans, I push them down enough so that my cock springs free. Pulling a condom free from my pocket, I use my teeth to rip it open.

“I can take you bare, baby,” the club whore purrs.

“Fuck no, bitch. You are not trapping me. Just bend over and take it.” Before she can reply, I slam into her, making her cry out.

I pound into her, gritting my teeth. I fucking hate the feeling of the wrong pussy around my cock. Her moans piss me off; they are not the sounds that I want to fucking hear.

“Yes, Camo. God, I miss your cock, baby.”

“Shut up,” I hiss through gritted teeth.

I am lost in the anger, the rage at everything around me fades. Red mist fills my vision, my teeth ache from the pressure, and my blood boils.

My body and soul are screaming at me to stop, but I keep my hips pumping, my fingers gripping her body so hard, I know I will leave marks on her.

“CAMO. Stop, brother.” I shake my head, and keep thrusting.

My balls tighten, and I come with a bellow. Shaz is moaning my name, but the blood pumping around my body flooding my ears drowns her out.

With my body still vibrating from anger and the useless orgasm, I take deep breaths. The second my breathing evens out, my hearing comes rushing back, and the room is dead silent, and the feeling of dread fills me.

“I hope she was worth it.” The words send my body into the ice age.

My head snaps up, I see Skyla standing in the middle of the room with Winger right by her side. His murderous glare aimed at me.

Stepping back, I remove the condom, dropping it on the floor, and tuck myself away. My gaze connects with Skyla’s and as my heart fractures in my chest, I hold in the wince from the pain searing through me. Her pain, disgust, and disappointment are etched on her face.

“Why are you here?” is what fucking pops from my mouth before I can stop it.

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