Page 2 of Gunner

I love everything about a woman. From their pretty smiles, soft silky skin to their smells. Fuck me hard, do they smell good. But it was hearing them moan, scream and cry out. That was music to my ears.

And boy, do they scream and cry out.

I love watching them drift off into euphoria, knowing it was me that put them there. I had a gift and I planned on spreading the love until the day I died.

Nothing wrong with that.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Turning fast, I smiled. “Sure, babe. I heard ya.”

Holly narrowed her eyes. “Really? What did I say?”

“Uh...”

Shit. I hated this game.

I was never good at it.

Doing the only thing I knew to do, I jumped to my feet and grabbed my clothes and boots. “Shit, babe. Gotta go. Got church!”

Rushing from the room, I heard her yell, “It’s fucking two o’clock in the damn morning. You fucking liar!”

Slamming the front door shut behind me, I leaned against it and sighed, “Fuck, that was close.”

Dropping my boots, I jumped into my jeans, then slid my bare feet into my leather boots. Fuck the socks. She could keep them as a souvenir. Not bothering with my shirt, I flung it over my shoulder as I headed for my bike.

Thank God, I kept my keys in my saddlebag.

I would fucking hate it if I had to walk back inside and beg her for them. I’d rather walk home, barefoot over broken glass in a minefield while being shot at, before I did that.

Shaking off that disturbing image, I strolled over to my bike.

It was hot as fuck tonight, and I could already feel the sweat bubbling up on my skin. Depositing my shirt in my leather saddlebag, I grabbed my keys, then flung my leg over my sexy as fuck matte black Harley Davidson Dyna Glide. I put the key in the ignition, then started up the love of my life before slowly rolling her back so I could turn around. Once pointed in the right direction, I gave the throttle a little gas and I was off.

Thank fuck.

Rolling slowly past Mike and Beth Brewer’s place, I saw the lights off in their home.

Smirking, I shook my head.

The owners of the Main Drip in town, Beth made the best damn cup of coffee north of the Mason Dixon Line. My brother King swore that if anything ever happened to Beth or her coffee shop, he would go on a murderous rampage.

The club believed him.

My brother had a serious obsession with Beth’s coffee. He didn’t function unless he had his daily cup.

Beth and Mike had two adult kids, both in college.

Their son was studying somewhere in Arizona, while their daughter, Sarah, was back in Rhode Island getting ready to start her sophomore year of college in the fall. Sarah was a fucking stunning girl. Then again, she would be, because her mom was pure MILF. With long chestnut hair and the biggest doe eyes I’d ever seen, Sarah was a walking, talking porno movie and I wanted in her pants more than I wanted air.

But like all good things, she was the forbidden fruit.

The one succulent piece of pie I would never get to taste, all because Mike caught me ogling his daughter shortly after they moved to Rosewood.

I remembered the day perfectly, as if it had just happened.

It was a sunny day. The birds were chirping, the north wind was blowing in a soft cool breeze, and the air smelled of the sweetest honeysuckle. I pulled into town and damn near laid down my bike when I spotted the most beautiful creature on the planet walking across the street into the new coffee shop. Needing to introduce myself, I parked my bike in front of the new coffee shop and walked inside.

---