Page 9 of Johnny Gun

“You asked, and I answered.” Speaking in a slow and condescending tone, Johnny G leaned his elbow on the counter to face Bubba. On closer inspection, the dude was mostly blubber, with a big mouth and a nasty attitude.

“You’re fucking crazy,” Bubba snapped.

“Nah-uh. Not crazy. I simply said no. Meaning, I don’t have a death wish.” He waited for his words to sink in. “My question is, do you?”

Bubba was quick. Johnny G’s reflexes were faster. He tilted his head, but the bottom of the rocks glass caught him with a glancing blow to the temple. Bourbon sloshed out, soaking Johnny G’s face and cut. Bubba chuckled, full of himself.

The contained beast in Johnny G shrieked with glee. He threw the double hit, straight fingertips to the larynx, knuckles to the solar plexus. Eyes wide and gasping for air, Bubba bent forward.Someone grabbed Johnny G’s hair from behind, and his head snapped back. Singeing pain invaded his brain. Enjoying the burn, he swiveled, leading with his bent elbow. With a satisfying crunch, his joint connected with the man’s nose.

Howling, the guy covered his face. “You broke my fucking nose.”

The swivel had exposed his right flank, and a hard fist punched Johnny’s jaw. The blow dizzied him. Another struck him from the left. He blinked furiously, forcing his brain to focus and his sight to clear up. His pent-up anger came to his aid. Extending his lowered arms, he swung out with fisted hands. He found the testicles of his two attackers, forcing them to retreat.

“Enough!” Mac thundered. He slammed the countertop with a cue stick. The sharp clack stopped the fight. “Take your fucking money and get out of my bar. Now!”

“All right, all right,” Johnny G exclaimed, rubbing the tender spot on his jaw. “I’m leaving. But I didn’t start it.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Mac said. “Motherfucking biker. Out!”

As Johnny G walked to the door, he smiled to himself. The fight hadn’t been as intense as he’d wanted and needed, but it had done the trick. He’d let off enough steam to lower his pressure gauge out of the red zone to green. The hacking sounds of the humbled Bubba, still struggling to breathe, followed him to the door. Music to his ears.

CHAPTER TWO

Isolde stepped out of the clubhouse and paused at the doorway, testing her comfort level with the chilly temperatures. Last night, a line of storms had raged as a cold front passed through, leaving in its wake a reminder of winter.

Now that she was out here, she didn’t want to go back inside the house for her jacket. After a moment of testing herself, she decided she could take it. Actually, she welcomed the early October chill. It refreshed her heated mind and dispersed the confusing jumble of thoughts. Behind her, the argument between her father, the Spawns’ president, and MC brothers got louder and angrier. How could anyone think clearly with that racket? Sick of their shouting and overwhelmed by the entire situation, she slammed the door closed, silencing their voices.

Ah, peace.

Inhaling a lung full of cool air, she rubbed her exposed arms to warm herself, then strolled along the descending path toward the lagoon. Her leather boots crunched softly on the first layer of fallen dried leaves. The next round would drop soon after theglorious hues of russet and gold, decorating the trees and foliage, turned to a dry brown, leaving the forest bare and looking bereft.

Johnny is coming.

A flash of his handsome face pulled her thoughts out of the magical autumn landscape.

Her father’s announcement had shocked everyone earlier. Blade had sent six guys north to help protect the Dalton chapter. She didn’t know how to react to the surprising information, or how to prepare for his arrival. What she felt for Johnny hadn’t changed one bit. Her emotions were as unwavering and as strong as they’d been the day she first saw him. That afternoon was engraved in her heart, a permanent cherished event in her memory, and would remain so for as long as she lived. It happened to her the same way it had in the romance books she read late at night. One glance, and she knew she loved him.

The world and her friends—correction…her only real friend—could ridicule her. She could almost hear her father’s negative comments:“This is a childish infatuation. Johnny Gun’s a grown man. You’re still a girl, reaching out of your league. He won’t take you seriously.”

Well… Isolde was a girl, all right, but not the kind dear old Dad was talking about.

In a way, Johnny had been responsible for awakening her libido. When he rode to Garden City, her secret sexual life began.

Isolde was obsessed. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Nightly erotic fantasies elicited such feverish heights, she had no choice but to find release any way possible. This led to new and creative ways to get what she needed. First, she opened a private checking account to cover the tracks of her purchases. She snickered, remembering her careful internet searches for sex toys and the steamy books she’d bought and downloaded to her e-reader. Buying paperbacks required ingenuity. Somehow, she managed to get a couple and tucked them away in her bedroom.

The big reveal came when she ran into a book that had a “Daddy lover” title. The story explored the kinky affair between an older man and a much younger woman, with interesting dynamics and age play between the two. Seeing herself and Johnny’s situation in the narrative she inhaled the book and bought more. In the process, she learned a big truth about herself. She was Little. Maybe not an adult baby as in some of the stories, but she longed for the toys and activities of a young girl, and, the biggest prize of all, to submit to Daddy.

There was only one problem: good or bad, her fantasies were the product of a virgin’s imagination. She’d never gone beyond a stolen kiss in high school.

Her ultimate goal didn’t change. She desired Johnny Gun the way he was, older, with maturity and experience. He fit the Daddy Dominant role of her fantasies: the doting partner, the disciplinarian with the firm hand, the daring lover who’d teach her the ways of pleasure. He was everything her girl spirit needed and wanted.

Johnny was perfect.

Or so she hoped.

There was only one problem. Isolde didn’t know if he reciprocated her feelings or if the gleam in his eyes was for her physical appearance alone.

She didn’t suffer from false modesty. Men liked her looks, and she knew it all too well.

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