Page 14 of Ruthless Obsession
Then there’s the real deal. An OL’ Lady. A man’s woman. One hundred percent his. She gets respect—but only if she’s earned it.
All the women that frequent our clubhouse wants that title but can’t handle the responsibility that comes with it. You have to be a down ass woman to be a biker’s OL’ Lady.It takes arider to wear that title as Flock would say. The kind of woman who doesn’t flinch when things get ugly.
Back in my quarters, I find Sophie sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging at the handcuffs.
Earlier with the towel still wrapped around her, she maneuvered panties and shorts up her legs with practiced efficiency. She tugged a tank top over her head, maintaining her modest shield throughout the process, before I secured the handcuffs.
“Ready to be free?” I ask.
“Yes. I’d like to sleep like a human being. You on the floor. Me in the bed.”
I smirk, ripping the towel from my waist and drying off. Her eyes drop to my cock that bobs to life under her heavy lust filled gaze.
“You don’t want me, remember?” I taunt. “So why are you staring?”
She points. “Because its right here in my face.”
I laugh. “If it was reallyin your face, you'd have your pretty lips wrapped around my thick shaft.”
“I want out of here,” she mutters under her breath, looking around the room like she’s trying to plan her exit.
I step forward crowding her. “Let’s get one thing straight, you wouldn’t get far. Your sick, twisted ex was planning to sell your sweet little virgin ass on the black market. It’s just a matter of time before he learns your body isn’t in the rubble.”
Her eyes flare with fury. She rears back to slap me, but I catch her wrist midair, jaw tight.
“You want to hit me again, baby?”
“Damn right I do,” she spits.
I yank her down flat on the bed. “You can fight all you want, little captive. Doesn’t change a damn thing. You’re mine now.”
I toss the sheet over her. “Go to fucking sleep.”
A knock hits the door.
“Yeah?” I call, standing up.
Sophie turns her back to me, but not before I catch the flash of heat still lingering in her eyes.
My new woman loves to stare at my dick, so I know I struck a nerve for her to turn away from the view.
“Prez wants you,” Flock says through the door.
“I’ll be right there,” I reply, tugging on my jeans.
Later, I’d ask her about what went on in her relationship with twisted Toby and about the other secrets she’s hiding from me.
Walking through the club ten minutes later, a woman grabs my arm. Her hungry eyes move over my long blond curly hair, my cut littered with motorcycle patches, a white Royal Bastards t-shirt, jeans, and black boots. Typical biker attire.
I inhale cigarette smoke, varnish, and stale beer as I raise a hand to catch the bartender's eye. "Squid, beer."
Behind the wooden bar stands Julio "Squid" Perez. He nods, his salt-and-pepper crew cut catching the dim light. At fifty the Army vet, explosives expert, still rides with us, pulling double duty as our tail gunner when he's not pouring drinks. "Coming right up, brother."
I peek at the clingy blonde club slut whom I’ve fucked at some point. What’s her fucking name?
“What’s your name?” I ask flatly.
She looks offended. But that’s what happens when you fuck bikers; not every woman is memorable. Especially when she’s fucked half my brothers in this bar.
