Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(29)

Still caught her looking.

For some f*cked up reason, that made me grin through the suds and hot water hissing over my face. Her soft blue eyes took little snatches of my body whenever she thought I wasn't looking, too blinded by the water to notice.

Whenever I looked back through the cheap shower door, she jerked her eyes away, hiding her beet red face behind this mystery story magazine I'd picked up for her at a gas station.

Little minx, I thought with a growl, feeling my cock blazing to life. Take a good, long look. It's only natural.

Don't care if you're too screwed up to f*ck. It doesn't change the fact that I want it anyway. Want it, need it, feel it so bad I've got hot coals burning in my balls.

Before I finished, I reached down and grabbed my swollen cock, giving it at least a dozen hard, quick strokes with my slick hand. Didn't feel a tenth as good as her * would wrapped around me, and I knew she was looking.

Hell, her eyes stayed fixed in dumb amazement on my dick up 'til I ripped open the door and stepped out, wrapping the towel around every raging inch of me and tucking it around my waist.

“Glad you enjoyed the show,” I said with a smirk, stepping back into the room and grabbing my clothes.

She shrugged and shook her head furiously, too embarrassed for words. I walked back into the bathroom to change, wondering what kinda fireworks were going off in her head.

I wasn't stupid – I knew I shouldn't be teasing her like this after she'd just walked outta hell. But f*ck, the girl needed a distraction.

If watching my dick took her mind off all the nasty things she'd suffered under Ricky, then I'd give her a peep show every f*cking hour she was holed up in my room. Some strange, merciful part of me wanted to wine her, dine her, and f*ck her 'til she couldn't remember her own name, much less what the last six months had been like.

My face turned psycho killer whenever I thought about it. I remembered Ricky, that sniveling, greedy piece of shit.

I would've killed him the night I went tearing down to save her if I wasn't in too deep a time crunch. I rolled on my jeans and looked at my gun, hanging on its holster. I pulled it out and felt the raw power in my hands, brought it over in my safe to lock up for the night, the same way I always did when I had a chick in the room.

Meg watched me walk out and put the gun away, slamming the safe shut with a loud clap.

I hadn't forgotten all the business I had with this girl, or the promise I'd made to her. She'd pay up and go home. We'd find a way to deal with the Deads and keep our club safe. But damn if I'd let that sick motherf*cker slink away into the night, only to set up shop and do this to some other girl who never asked to be pulled into violence and slavery.

I'd end him one day. I'd do it with pleasure. I'd let Meg know when I did too, if only to give her closure so she could live the rest of her days without worrying about seeing his evil ass ever again.

“Take the bed tonight,” I told her. “I'll crash on the floor.”

She sat up and watched me flop down with a pillow and a thin sheet. Shit was hard as concrete, really, but I didn't give a shit.

There wasn't much to my bed. Still better than the crappy cot she'd slept on forever in that whorehouse.

I closed my eyes for about a full minute before I heard her voice. I looked up, and she was staring over the bed at me, straight down with her gem blue eyes.

“There's enough room for both of us, Skin, if you'll behave yourself. I'm okay with us sharing. It's a cold night.”

I grunted, mulling it over for a second. The raw need roaring through my cock threatened to strangle the gentleman inside me. Fine, whatever. I popped up and rolled into bed next to her, promising myself I'd keep my hands to myself.

She switched out the lamp a second later and pulled the sheets tight. I laid awake for a long time, thinking about how this whole twisted situation would blow over. We'd get the reward for the club, the day all this shit would finally be wrapped up by dropping her off at her parents' door.

I thought about the hundred ways I'd like to slaughter Ricky the pimp again. I thought about how I'd fight to keep this club intact and protect every last brother wearing my patch, how we'd butcher the Deads or anybody else who f*cked with us.

I thought about anything and everything that didn't involve me throwing the covers off Meg, tearing her panties off, and sinking my cock deep inside the hot, warm hole I wanted to fill with every fiber of my being.

All the dirty, bloody thoughts in the dark ended when she rolled toward me. I felt her heat, her sweet young body, pressed into me as naturally as a kitten curling up to its mother. The soft whimper leaving her lips told me she was asleep, doing it unconsciously.

Fuck it. I couldn't lay there a second longer without feeling her.

I threw an arm around her waist and pulled her tight, silencing the lust in my blood. She craved comfort, and I'd give it to her, if only for tonight.

There was something strangely peaceful about having this chick huddled in my arms. Didn't change the fact it was confusing as shit. I hadn't even f*cked her, and we were spooning like lovers – something I never did with the whores I bedded.

What the f*ck?

I was still thinking about how ironic life could be when the sandman finally caught up to me and dropped the five ton hammer on my head.

The next day, everyone was frustrated. Both the prospects ran into trouble with their bikes in the morning, and half our crew spent the entire day fixing them up.