Page 27 of Biker Daddies

One thing I have never done, and probably will never do, is kiss someone.

One look at me and women bolt. The scars aren’t pretty and my lips do not look appealing.

I stroll inside, lifting my chin to Bookie, our treasurer, and Lifesaver, our MC doctor.

“There he is!” Brander, a close friend who has a very loud personality, spreads his arms and wraps them around me, lifting me in the air.

I hate being lifted.

And twirled.

I’m huge, but somehow this motherfucker can pick me up.

When he sets me down, I glare at him.

“Aw, don’t act like you don’t like it,” he says.

“I don’t think he does,” Trap chuckles from the couch. “One of these days, he’ll kill ya, Brander.”

“Nah.” He scrubs the top of my head as if I’m his little brother. “He loves it. Don’t let him lie to you.”

“I don’t like it.” I don’t know why I bother to say it, but I do. It’s the same conversation every time.

I drag a stool away from the bar where most of the whores are and sit down. Bullwhip is behind the bar today, slinging drinks.

“Bane, how’s it going, man?” he asks, pouring me a draft beer.

“Fine,” I grunt, wrapping my hand around the cold drink.

The condensation is wet against my fingertips and immediately I imagine taking an ice cube and rubbing it over Harlow’s lips, then down her neck and over each nipple so I can see them tighten.

Fuck.

My cock aches, reminding me of what I want.

I curl my lip in annoyance and chug down half my beer.

Bullwhip cleans off the spot in front of me with a rag. “Right, because that’s normal,” he says, pointing with his eyes to my drink in hand.

I turn away from him, staring at Destiny, a biker bunny who’s been around for about five years. Every biker here has had their way with her. All but me.

Her blonde hair is bleached too much, her eye makeup is too heavy, and her lipstick is messy, but I’m not here for her looks. I’m only here for her mouth.

“Bane,” she purrs, stepping between my legs.

Her hand touches my inner thigh and her fingers slide across the tip of my cock.

“What are you looking for?” She rubs her palm over my hard length. “Just a little…relief?” She puffs on her cigarette, her lipstick leaving an imprint on the filter. She blows the smoke to the left and looks me up and down.

Without looking at me, she places her cigarette on the ashtray and she gets on her knees, but Harlow’s face flashes in my mind. I only see her, her lips, her body, and I only want them.

The longer I look at Destiny, the sicker I feel.

My cock deflates and I lose interest completely.

“Get up.”

She holds out her hand for me to take, but I don’t, and she rolls her eyes, using my knees to get herself onto her feet.

---