Page 10 of Tag

She's been around the clubhouse more and more since she’s been working for Rock, Jett’s twin brother, at his business Rock’s Truck ‘N’ Haulage, which the club now part owns.

I hate other men looking at her. I want to gouge their fuckin’ eyes out of their heads.

Then again, I’ve always been protective, ever since we were kids…

I take a sharp breath as I start to come, gripping myself faster as I jerk and then still, spilling my seed all over the tile and it never fuckin’ ends.

Jesus.

This is what I fuckin’ get for not having pussy in a few weeks. It ain’t right.

I make a mental note to fuck one of the sweet butts tonight before my balls fuckin’ hang down to my knees.

I clean myself with shower gel and shut the taps off. That does feel better, though.

The tension I had earlier has gone, but my leg still hurts like a motherfucker.

Once I dress quickly in my gym gear, I head downstairs to see if Manny is here yet. He’s our resident cook and the biggest gossip in the entire MC, including the women.

I don’t smell anything coming from the kitchen, so it looks like I’m gonna have to dig around for leftovers in the fridge. No fuckin’ bitches around either to make me a coffee.

Where the fuck is everyone?

I know it’s early, but still.

I run a hand over my stubble. I only have a short goatee at the moment, with the sides shaved, and my hair is longer than I’vehad it in years. I tie it in a short ponytail as I hunt at the back of the fridge.

Finally, I find something that resembles spaghetti bolognese and heat it up in the microwave. I eat a lot and I don’t fuckin’ cook, and I ain’t learning how. No point in having a fuckin’ cook and doing shit yourself.

I eat here a lot, even though I have an apartment downtown. Manny makes sure that I get the things that I like, but that means I have to be nice to him. I don’t really enjoy being Mr. Nice Guy, but a simple grunt is all it takes to keep him on my side. He knows that if he’s too goddamn cocky, he’ll get a punch in that pretty boy face of his.

I swear he’s too fuckin’ pretty for his own good. All the women fawn over him like he’s got a six-foot dick or something. When I asked Summer, Jett’s ol’ lady, and the only chick I actually have any time for, she told me it was because he was nice.

Nice.

Fuckin’ nice.

What the fuck does that even mean?

Summer and I are unlikely friends, and I’ve no idea why that is. I’ve nothing romantic with her—she’s Jett’s ol’ lady anyway, and that’s a no-go—but it ain’t like that. I even put up with her hassling me about Luna and when I’m gonna make it up to her.

Even she doesn’t know about us. And she can’t know.

It’ll just show the depths of my depravity. Not that I give a fuck, but with my club brothers, I still want their respect. I don’t want their judgment.

I make instant coffee because I don’t know how to work the goddamn coffee machine, and by the time I get to the gym, I’m wide awake.

Harlem trudges in behind me.

I glance over my shoulder as I swipe my fob on the door. It’s so early that there’s no staff here yet.

“Look like a wet bag of cement,” I mumble.

He gives me a chin lift. “Mornin’ to you too.”

I grunt. “You gotta be so fuckin’ happy first thing?”

He chuckles.

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