Page 75 of Hunter

But if I had been fighting off all the fucking bastards that wanted a piece of Ryleigh, I was rejecting all those who wanted to get into my bed as well.

My fucking dick hadn’t been hard for anyone but this girl, and I was getting fucking tired of using my hand.

It wouldn’t take much for Ryleigh to push me too far.

“No? I never knew you tonotbe interested in getting your dick wet.”

“Not in the mood,” I answered, trying not to show how badly he rattled me.

Micah should be a fucking war general.

He would make any prisoner cave from the cold look in his eyes alone.

Luckily, I had more than three decades of experience dealing with him.

“That’s too bad,” he said, his eyes directed to something above my head.

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

He didn’t answer me. He didn’t need to when long fingernails skated gently across the skin on my neck before a small body climbed onto my lap.

I looked at the bright blue eyes belonging to Tammy Henderson.

“Hey, stranger. I haven’t seen you in a while. I missed you,” she rasped, her voice rough from years of chain smoking. Her breath smelled like alcohol, and her pupils were dilated with whatever drug she’d taken.

With long blonde hair and sun-kissed golden tan skin, she would have been pretty if being in this life hadn’t taken its toll on her.

Her dad had been around the scene long before Dominic took the throne as Club’s president.

He had been the VP for the former president and had inherited the role with Dominic. It wasn’t until he stepped down shortly after I joined that I could take the position.

Something I was sure had caused some contention among the club, especially with Tammy’s brother, Trent Henderson, considering he had been in for much longer than I had been.

But no one—not even Trent—had prove themselves capable of taking on the VP position. I did.

Tammy ran her long fingernails down my chest, looking up at me with what I assumed was supposed to be a seductive smile.

I wasn’t seduced.

She knew the score and was always looking for a good time.

And before I went to prison, she had been my fuck buddy on and off for three years.

“Hey, Tammy.”

She smiled, her fingers playing with the back of my hair, and I had to clench my fists by my side to keep from pulling away from her.

I had entertained the thought of putting claim to her as my old lady, not because I was obsessed with her or wanted her to be mine, but because she was always there. She knew what it was like for men like me, being in a club that belonged to theOne Percenters. She would have made life bearable, but nothing about the girl would have held my attention for long.

She didn’t fill my mind with thoughts about her when I was away.

She didn’t make me want to pound the fucking life out of any man who dared touch her, and with Tammy, there had been a lot of men.

Her body count was probably higher than mine.

Not that I was judging her, or cared.

She could fuck whomever she wanted, but the fact that I was even thinking this way should tell me everything I wanted to know about my feelings toward her.

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