Page 13 of Perdition
“I’ll wash her,” he said, eager to be of use to the club prez in hopes of getting his member patch in six months.
Frost nodded. “You know how she likes it,” he replied with a smirk.
Tony Dos had been prospecting with the club for almost two years, which was the standard prospecting period according to the club charter. It looked like the man was going to be a good brother, a dedicated and loyal member of the Unchained.
As Tony Dos headed off to get the cleaning supplies to wash Frost’s bike, Frost strode through the front doors and into the large open common room.
Clusterfuck was sitting with Tiburon and Malo, two of the patch overs from the Bone Dogz, and there was a woman on each of their laps.
Not interested in whatever the hell was about to happen, Frost turned to the bar, headed for a bottle of Kraken and a night of short memories. When he wanted to forget, he grabbed the rum.
Tony—the other of the two prospect Tonys—was manning the bar. Seeing Frost, and the look on his face, Tony immediately poured three fingers of rum and slid it across the bar to the stool Frost typically used when he was club drinking.
Frost sat on his stool, threw back the drink, and let the welcome burn mute his senses.
Tony refilled the glass, and Frost tossed it back again.
He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, marinating in his self-made misery when he felt someone sit on the stool beside him.
He recognized the somewhat cloying scent of Sarah’s body spray—freesia and jasmine—and when she put a hand on his arm, he took his time turning toward her.
And when he did…he nearly swallowed his tongue.
He’d seen her before, talked with her, drank with her, easily dismissed her—but now….
What the fuck?
Honey blonde hair with strands of bronze and brass, creamy skin, sparkling blue eyes that seemed to spell seduction with a smoldering glance.
Big tits cupped by some sort of bra-corset top, that perfectly showed off the slimness of her waist and the roundness of her hips. A black leather skirt with a split from bottom to practically the top, revealed glimpses of a creamy thigh, smooth skin, and a tattoo of a deep crimson rose near her left hip.
Seduction.
The woman was seduction.
He’d known that since meeting her, had no problem brushing her off, sending her off to another brother to satiate that need in her eyes.
So…why was he staring…hesitating…?
Em…Em was sexy, too. All soft curves, warm skin, and a body he’d adored for decades. There was no one built as well as his Bloom, who felt as good as his wife did in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist, her pussy wrapped around his cock.
How do you know? You’ve never been with anyone else….
He blinked, trying to clear the booze glaze from his eyes and thoughts—because where the hell had that thought from from? Em was his one and only because she was his fucking soulmate.
He didn’t need to taste other cuts of steak to know Em was the only one his mouth watered for.
So…why was he still sitting there, letting Sarah touch him, devouring him with her appreciative gaze?
“Sarah?” he croaked, hating how confused and shaken he sounded.
She ducked her chin coyly and grinned, a practiced move he recognized from all the other times she’d approached him. But never, not once, had she approached him as she did tonight.
He swallowed thickly, his body humming with liquor and something…something he somehow knew he shouldn’t feel…but didn’t know why. He blinked again, his hand around the glass, squeezing until his knuckles turned white.
“Hi, Frost,” she rasped, her voice thick and husky, like she’d just screamed herself hoarse during a hard fucking.
Somewhere in the background, he heard someone clear their throat, but he couldn’t make himself focus on that.
