Page 7 of Taming the Bear
“Sorry, I was hungry.”
“Did you want to stop some place and get something to eat?”
She nods her head quickly and then grabs her cell phone out of her purse. “I need to text Craig and tell him that I’m okay and not coming back for a few weeks.”
I don’t stop myself as I reach out and yank the phone out of her hand. “No, you don’t tell him shit. You can’t fuckin’ talk to him because he’s going to ask you questions.”
“He’s my friend, though.”
Damn, this woman is stubborn.
“I appreciate that but this is a sensitive mission and I need you focused on me.”
“Fine. Whatever, caveman.”
“What kind of food do you like?” I ask her as we stand in front of her car. She leans her little hip against the grill of her car and she crosses her arms over her chest. My eyes look down and I check out her tits.
“Ehh, urm,” she clears her throat.
I shrug and then give her my grin that gets me all of the pussy I want. “Baby, you’ve got some nice tits. You can’t display them like this and not expect me to look at them.”
“I want Italian.”
All right. If that’s what she wants, fine. “All right. Follow me and I will lead us to my favorite Italian place.”
I mount my bike and then turn I switch the key over. My bike is my baby and I have put a shit ton of pride into it. It’s a Ultra Limited with a Screamin’ Eagle engine and it has my patch airbrushed on the side of it. Needless to say, everyone knows that this is my bike.
There are several rules that my club most follow. One, it must be a mother fuckin’ Harley that they ride. I don’t want any of that bull shit of a glider or whatever. I want real bikes for my brothers. Some clubs allow their members to ride whatever they want and I don’t like that because it’s not uniform. We come from Harleys and we are going to stay with them.
I lead her to a barbeque place off the side of town and then wait for her to follow me. Her pink hair is flowing through her open window and I’m happy to see that she’s not one of the girls who will have a problem with getting their hair messed up.
I want to dig my fingers in that pink hair and hold her head still so I can fuck her mouth.
She parks her car and as she gets out, she looks at the restaurant. “This doesn’t look Italian.”
“Trust me. This is a good place, Chantal.”
I hold my hand out for her to grab my hand and when she does, I bring her in closer. Since we are standing within inches of each other, I do hear her breathing pick up. “You like to touch me a lot,” she whispers as she gets closer to me.
I like to touch you a lot because I can’t stop. I love the tingles your skin shoots off to me when I touch you. It’s addictive.
I shrug and then lead her into the restaurant to get this shit over with. After we are seated, she sits across from me and I sit facing the window. I don’t like having my back to the window or a door because I want to make sure no one is going to stab me in the back. I need to see what’s going on at all times.
My phone vibrates in my pants and I pull it out to see that it’s Misfit calling me. He tried to pull some bull shit a little bit ago and I had to put him on a punishment. Misfit started tasting the cocaine that we are distributing to Big Sir and The Plague. I don’t allow my guys to test and squander our profits, plus I want to make sure the guys are clean and unbiased. That defeats the purpose of selling shit if you are just sniffing the drug and not selling it.
“What?” I bark into the phone.
I can hear in the background that there’s a party happening in the clubhouse and I roll my eyes. This is not what I wanted to bring Chantal into. I needed to get her accustomed to everything before I pushed her off the edge and into the shark tank.
“Prez, we got problems.”
I roll my eyes and Chantal’s looking at me cautiously. “Sorry, baby. It will only be a minute. I need to take this.”
When I’m outside, I walk over to my bike and open up my saddlebag. I light a cigarette and then say into the phone: “Misfit, this better be important. I’m busy with some shit.”
I hear him groan and then he says: “Tina just fuckin’ quit because I told her that she can’t be drinkin’ on the job. Now we are down a dancer and we have a show to put on for next week. What the fuck are we gonna do?”
“This is not an emergency. This is part of your job. I want another dancer hired by the end of the night and I want her trained. You got me?”
