Page 22 of Piper's Pyro

I turned around and was met with Spectre’s angry scowl. “Were you talking to me?”

“See anyone else around.”

“I wasn’t staring at her.”

“I saw you. She’s not here to get fucked by the band.”

“You sure about that? She hasn’t left Flint’s side.” I swept my gaze over to Piper, now sitting on Flint’s lap. “Scratch that. She’s on him, not beside him.” I smirked to hide my rage.

“Jesus Christ,” Spectre hissed and cupped the back of his head. “I’ve been given orders to leave her alone.”

“By who?”

“My club’s prez, who’s also my older brother. He thinks she’s a good girl, but I know better.”

I knew better too. Piper must’ve been a wild child. “How do you know?”

“We’re close, like best friends. Trust me, I know shit about her that no one else does, so I need to protect her before she does something stupid.”

Interesting. “So what’re you going to do?” I was all for Spectre breaking up Flint’s good time with Piper.

“I have no idea.” He shook his head. “Not like she’s tearing off her clothes and grinding on him.”

I held my breath as I recalled tearing off Piper’s clothes last night. We’d been explosive. Angry. Hateful. Mind-blowing. I shook those rousing thoughts out of my head before my dick sprung to life.

Spectre was built like a brick wall. If he knew what I’d done with his sister or the depraved desires flooding my veins, he might break my hands and cut out my tongue.

Piper threw her head back and laughed.

Spectre growled, “That head-tossing thing she does means she wants him. Son of a bitch!”

“Flint won’t hurt her.” Oddly, I wanted to assure him Piper was in safe hands. Though I wanted nothing more than to throw her over my shoulder and carry her to my room. I’d punish her for teasing me. And fuck her until she begged for mercy.

“Hey, Cobra wants you to call him,” Hustler told Spectre.

“Why?”

“No idea.”

Spectre considered his brother a long second, then stalked out a side door in the lounge.

“He’s a bit intense. Thinks he’s Piper’s keeper.” Hustler jerked his chin at the biker princess.

“You’re okay with Flint all over her?”

“Not really, but she’s over twenty-one, pays her own bills, and is responsible. I have to trust her.”

“Rock stars get pretty wild.”

“Yeah, so do bikers. She can hold her own.”

I knew she could. The biker princess’s older brothers had probably taught her self-defense. I’d love to see her knee Flint in the balls.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow.” Hustler turned.

“Where are you going?”

“To take my woman home.” He pointed at a pretty blonde.

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