Page 36 of The Biker's Virgin
CHAPTER TWENTY – BLAINE
Blaine sat in the van and gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Fuck. A virgin? Now she was definitely too naïve and innocent to be with a man like him. He could’ve beaten the shit out of all three of those college boys, but had held back on her behalf. The gun was overkill, but turning to a pistol was second nature to him. It was his experience that what can take an hour of discussion and negotiations, can be expedited ten-fold with the presence of a loaded firearm.
He opened the van door to chase Olivia into her house, but as he was about to step out, he changed his mind. He slammed the door, put the van in gear and headed back to the clubhouse. Crater, and Freddie were inside the dark living room, slumped into the worn couch and smoking a joint.
“How was your afternoon buddy?” Freddie smirked.
“Fine,” Blaine said bluntly. “Where’s Zeb?”
“I think he’s back in his office getting his dick sucked again.”
“I wonder if he ever gets tired of it?” Crater mused.
“Tired of it? Dude, the wrong girls have been sucking your dick,” Freddie said as he inhaled a toke from his pipe.
“Fuck. Shut up you guys.” The last thing Blaine needed was to be a part of this particular conversation.
“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” Crater asked.
“I guess his little guitar girl didn’t put out,” Freddie drawled and smirked.
Blaine froze. His pent up sexual energy combined with the disrespect from Freddie made him explode. He grabbed Freddie by the neck and pulled him off of the couch.
Freddie raised his hands, “Blaine, buddy. I was just kidding.” He managed to croak out through Blaine’s grip.
Blaine stood, breathing heavily, clenching the boy’s neck tightly. Freddie flailed and clawed at Blaine’s hands.
“Blaine. Let him go. He was just joking around.”
But Blaine kept his grip tight. The prospect’s face turned blue as his feet kicked the air.
“BLAINE,” Zeb’s voice boomed across the room. His mentor’s voice shook him out of his fugue state and he dropped Freddie to the floor. Freddie grabbed at his neck and gasped for air.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Crater asked.
“Blaine. Get in here,” Zeb yelled.
Blaine strode wordlessly past the group of men and into Zeb’s office.
“You want to tell me what that was all about?”
“Nothing.”
“Look. The prospects expect to be roughed up, but make sure you’ve got a good reason.”
“They were disrespectful,” Blaine said, and dropped heavily on to one of the rickety office chairs.
“Fine,” Zeb said. He leaned back and cradled his head with his huge rough hands.
Zeb was a handsome man for his age. His face was leathery and worn from years of riding, but the wrinkles worked for him. In his youth, he could’ve been a model, with his wide shoulders and natural washboard abs, and he had grown into his fifties with grace. Blaine saw how women were vulnerable to his looks, and had watched in amusement as the eyes of socialites and rich women, followed Zeb as he walked by. His presence commanded attention throughout any room.
“What’s up Zebbie?” Blaine asked and pulled out his phone to see if Olivia had messaged him. Nothing.
“Do you want to fucking pay attention?” Zeb asked calmly.
Blaine clicked off the screen and placed his phone face down on the desk. “I’m all yours, Boss.”
“While you’ve been out playing farmer and frolicking with school girls, I figured out who is vying for our territory.
