Stripping Callum (Last Hangman MC Book 6)(33)

While he’s not really my type of guy–too much muscle–his personality and the brooding alpha demeanor makes me swoon and want to know more about him.

I can’t let myself think that way, though. I don’t want to be involved with anyone. It would be hard anyway with balancing two jobs and raising a kid. I’m already scrapping for time as it is. Besides, what tells me that Callum would actually want me that way? Chances are he thinks I’m way too young for him, which is kinda true. I’m twenty-two, and he’s forty or close to it. He could be my father. Maybe that’s why I like hanging out with him so much. He’s the father figure I don’t remember having. I was so young when my parents passed away that I don’t remember what it’s like to have a man in my life.

Callum is as protective as a father would be. The only issue is that I’ve been dry humping him for a month and well, that’s just wrong if I do see him as a father figure. Each to their own fetish-wise, but that’s not my thing.

Talk about dry humping him for a month. He’s always dead set on making me come while I’m at work while I can’t reciprocate. Just once I’d like to bring him over the edge. I know he’s been close a couple of times, but he never lets go and it does my head in. I’m starting to wonder if he’s not attracted to me at all and has ulterior motives.

I also find it very unfair that he’s seen me naked plenty of times, and I’ve never even seen him without his shirt on.

Life can be a right bitch!



October 11, 2016

Tuesday

My car is still not working so Callum, the gentleman that he is, offered to drive me to and from work. Sadly, he didn’t take his bike today. I loved getting on his bike, especially after he drove me insane in the VIP section at the club. I was still very much sensitive and the vibrations of the bike…let me tell you, two more minutes and I would have had another orgasm. No shame!

“You okay?” he asks as he puts the key in the ignition.

“Yes, just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I smirk, looking at him.

“Very much so.” He squeezes my thigh gently.

“Just thinking about the fact that we’ve known each other for a month, that you’ve seen me naked countless times, that you’ve made me come at least once a week, and that I’ve never even seen you without your shirt on. It’s unfair!”

“I think that is very fair, although I’d say I’m making you come twice a week.” He smirks and keeps driving past my apartment building.

“Where are you going?” I question him.

“You’ll see.” I can see the smug look on his face as he’s driving, eyes trained on the road. I wonder what the hell he’s up to. I know he’s a good man, but he’s still part of an MC and can still be a dangerous man. What tells me that he’s not about to kill me? Although I doubt he’d ever hurt a woman, at least not intentionally.

“So mysterious…”

“Are you scared?”

“A little bit. I don’t know where you’re taking me.”

“We’re not far, so you won’t have long to wait. But don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you; you’re safe.” He squeezes my hand and parks in the driveway of a quaint little house.

“Is this your place?”

“Yes.” He gets out, and I do the same. Not sure if it’s a good idea, but man I’m so horny and curious now!

“Didn’t picture you living in this type of house.”

“What did you think? That I’d have a rundown place?” He glares at me, getting really defensive.

“No. One, do not talk to me like that, I haven’t done anything to you but make a simple comment. Not my fault if you’re taking it the wrong way. Two, I thought you’d be more of an apartment type of guy, not a house owner and three, stop being a dick to people who actually like you.” I glare at him and wait for him to open the house. I consider acting like a petulant child, but I want to know what he has in mind.

“Sorry,” he mutters and unlocks the front door, letting me in first. I walk in and feel around for a light switch. He startles me when he turns the lights on out of the blue. It looks amazing inside, not at all what you’d expect a biker to live in. Not that I ever thought about what kind of place he could be living in.

He punches the alarm code in and motions for me to go into the living room. I walk in and sit on the couch, studying him. He looks confident as ever as he removes his wallet from his pocket and his gun from under his jacket and cut. Why is he carrying at all times, and how did I never notice it? I mean, we’ve been pretty close to each other, I’m sure I would have felt it.

“Do you always carry?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because with what I do, dangerous people can be after me, and I could need it to defend myself.”

“Have you ever killed someone?” I ask him, not sure if he’s willing to share that kind of information with me.

“Yes.” There goes my answer.

“To defend yourself or someone you loved, or just because you wanted to?”

“First one, but I’ve come close to the latter.” He chuckles.