“No.”
I don’t put up with much. My fuse is short and my tolerance for bullshit is nil. Standing in the middle of the parking lot, in the rain, isn’t going to last long. She either gets on my damn bike herself or I’ll fucking put her on it. I’m good with either.
Grabbing her arm, I pull her toward me, not letting her go. “Not gonna tell you again, Princess,” I tell her, my voice even. We’re not playing her games tonight.
Samantha shivers, but jerks away from my touch instantly.
With her long blonde hair, wet and hanging all over the place, she looks like an escapee from a mental hospital. Immaculate makeup running and fancy blouse wet, Sam is goddamn mess. “Have someone else drive me,” she suggests. “I’m not goin’ with you.”
“Nah. You’re comin’ with me.”
“You can’t tell me no,” she says fiercely, a fire igniting in her blue eyes.
I chuckle, finding her funny as fuck, as usual. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.” She should know this shit. My reputation speaks volumes of me not giving a flying fuck if you do or don’t like what I do, or what I tell you to do.
Throwing her hand in the air, she growls, “It’s been like, what? Three years? We don’t even know each other anymore.” Samantha puts her hands up, shaking them back and forth between us. “Stranger danger.”
We don’t know each other? That’s fucking hilarious. I know every inch of that body, having spent nights inside of that tight cunt. I fucking know her.
“I’ll fuckin’ show you stranger when I take your ass behind the club and show you danger.”
She scoffs. “Whatever.”
Samantha thinks she’s funny. She’s not. But she’s even less funny when she turns on her heel and marches her ass back inside the club and away from me.
I’m not one to chase a bitch, but Samantha isn’t just any bitch, she’s the goddamn Princess, so I follow her, keeping my distance.
I watch her walk off, her hips swinging and ass swaying, damn proud of herself. It’s cute how she thinks she’s won. The woman is the biggest pain in the fucking ass, her attitude about as big as her sassy ass mouth. She’s a fucking know-it-all and a smartass. But Jesus Christ, there’s just something about her. It’s been years, but every fucking time I see her, I can’t help my goddamn self. I want a piece of her every fucking time.
Following her inside, I watch her walk through the crowded clubhouse and right up to Tank’s old lady. Sam says something to the chick and they both look at me. Lil doesn’t like me, and neither does Rampage’s old lady. The feeling’s mutual.
“She stayin’ then?” Danny Boy asks, walking up and standing next to me.
“Guess so.” I don’t know what the bitch is up to. Can’t be good by the way she’s looking at me though, eyes narrowed and lips curled.
“Fickle little shit. Always has been.”
I’ve known Samantha since I joined the club. I was eighteen, she was eight. She’s always been this way—bad, bossy, wild. But she’s the Princess; she does what she wants and we comply. “Wasn’t interested in catchin’ a ride with me.” She was more than interested a few years ago, but that’s a whole other story.
Danny Boy just shakes his head. “I need a beer. You need one, brother?”
Nodding, he holds up two fingers and waves over a prospect, who promptly brings over a couple of beers.
I should feel bad for fucking his daughter behind his back. Bending her over his desk and stuffing my cock in her tight wet cunt like I did the last time I was here, but I don’t. Sam takes it as good as she gives it, and the president’s daughter wanted it. Friend or not, his daughter’s body is mine.
“Charity run giving you hell?” I ask him, watching the way he’s staring at the group of people.
Dan chuckles, rubbing his temple. “Fucking things are a nightmare to put together, and to top it off, I’ve got fucked-up gun shipments. Goddamn Mexicans have been screwing with my bottom line so I cut ’em off, which put sales down, and now this.” He motions toward the room. “I’ve got problems comin’ out my damn ass.”
A charity run, a way to show the community we’re not a club full of bloodthirsty animals by giving back and shit. It’s also a chance for clubs to get together and swap war stories and ways to be better criminals. Ya know, important shit.
“And now the club’s fucking’ packed. People comin’ out of my damn ass too,” he adds, looking around at all the motherfuckers clogging up the stools, tables, and spaces in between.
“Lot of fucking bodies.”
He nods, agreeing.
We bullshit for a few more minutes until Dan’s pulled away.
Standing alone, I watch the party.
Samantha’s over with the other females, all of them shooting fucking daggers at me. Crazy bitches.
Walking behind the bar, I grab a bottle and lean back against the wall, watching her.
She’s glancing at me, then over at Tags, looking fucking mad and sad at the same time. The bitch is all over the damn place with all her goddamn issues. I know her and Tags had a thing for a while. I heard it was over, but that doesn’t mean that when I was here last year and they were a thing, I wasn’t balls deep inside of his “old lady” because Samantha’s mine. No matter what, she belongs to me. Boyfriend, husband, old man, that shit will never fucking matter. The Princess was mine, is mine, and will always be mine.
Samantha’s standing with her little group, who are exchanging nasty looks with some bitch hanging off Tags’ arm. It’s amusing. First it was me, and now it’s some slut in a skirt. Samantha’s something else, and it’s not a good thing.
Grabbing a beer from Lilly, Samantha walks her sexy ass over toward the bitch, and that’s when shit gets a little wild.
I can see her bucking up, ready for a fight, talking shit and giving the bitch nasty looks.
They exchange some words, and the bitch throws a drink at Sam. Everyone gets loud and Samantha grabs the chick by the hair, hard. In most instances, I’d let it go, let ’em fight it out, but what I don’t fucking like is when some asshole wearing a prospect patch grabs Sam’s arm and pulls on her. Sam’s got the bitch’s hair, hitting her, and the prospects got Sam, pulling on her.
Not gonna happen.
Setting down my bottle I walk their way, watching Sam wail away on the crying bitch.
I don’t care if Sam and the bitch wanna tear each other limb from fucking limb, but no man’s gonna put his hands on her. I don’t give a fuck how much she hates me, I’m the only one touching her while I’m here.
“You stupid fuckin’ skank,” Sam growls, hitting the girl in the face. It’s a punch. A real one. A solid one. I’m proud. I’m even prouder when the bitch’s nose starts to bleed.
Calmly, I grab the prospect and lay his ass out, giving him a mouthful of knuckles. He crumples to the floor, dropping Sam in the process.
Samantha falls to her ass, but that doesn’t last long. She gets up and goes for the bitch again, which I stop, grabbing her crazy ass up.
“Calm down,” I bark, holding onto her flailing ass, arms and legs flying everywhere. Screaming. Swinging. Kicking.
“Fuck you,” she screeches, swinging at me. “I fucking hate you. Fucking hate you both.”
Leaning into her ear, her back pressed against my chest and my arms around her middle, I tell her, “I fucking missed you, Princess.”
“Put me down, you fucking asshole.”
“Not gonna happen.” But it does happen. I set her back on her feet when her dad comes back inside and levels her with a look. He’s not happy, and I’m sure the fuck not getting in the middle of that shit. So I let her go, watching her back as she walks away.