Forever - Book 3 (Star Crossed MC Lovers) Read Free Page B

alarm clock sat. I glared at the alarm clock as anger burned through me.
    9:37 A.M.
    "Might as well be dawn. What the fuck is going on before noon?" I rubbed the stubble on my chin and breathed in deeply. The smell of my girl’s last orgasm was still on my fingers. Damn, if I didn’t want to lick at it, but I forced myself to behave. Walking to the door with a raging hard-on wasn’t unheard of, but no reason to scare the guys with my size. I smirked at the thought. I was totally the mother fucker they believed me to be.
    Rising to my feet, my six foot 4 inch frame unfolded as the bed sheets slid from my naked body, caressing me as they went. My broad-shouldered frame was properly jacked , which I was more than proud of. Many hours in the gym gave Selene the proper playground to have her fun on.  If nothing else, when she got pissed I usually just pulled off my shirt and beckoned the wicked little thing to come and lick my tattoos for me. She had something about wanting to trace them with her tongue. No complaints here. I had plenty of ink to lick.
    The whole of my back bore the Stone Wolves insignia tattooed in bold black ink that took a multitude of return visits to the ink-slinger to get. It was part of the ritual of becoming a proud member of the Stone Wolves, and I couldn’t be more thrilled that I belonged, and had for the last three years.
    I knew that if I wanted to rise in the ranks of the club, I had to stay strong no matter what, and I was incredibly strong. I had the brute strength of a bear, excellent defensive skills and the smarts to keep myself and my girl safe when in the line of danger. There was a reason that I was VP of the Stone Wolves Motorcycle Club. Lots of them, actually.
    The club, which once belonged to a group of black sheep Delgados, the men who had parted ways with Raphael's ancestors, had long since passed. Now the club was comprised of a rag-tag bunch of bikers. Our demographics  were broad, with the majority of the club polling as Irish-American, seven percent claiming to be Italian-American, a two percent African-American population and a measly one percent belonged to the only Native American Stone Wolf, Eddie La Pointe. It was a mixed population, but for the Stone Wolves, it worked. We were a tightly knit clan, even when things went wrong, like the fire. I was glad when club fire repairs were all wrapped up and everyone wasn’t so grumpy. But together, we stuck through the good and the bad.
    My bare feet slapped against the planks of the hardwood floor as I darted to the bedroom door to see what the problem was. Not even bothering to put on a pair of boxers, though I shouldn’t have been so cocky, I swung open the door, with all of my glory on full display.
    Rusty Grier's eyes bolted wide as he stared back at me in shock. The old man rubbed his large right hand over his face and quickly averted his eyes to his feet.
    Blade, a lifetime member of the club, who was nearly as old as Rusty, laughed loudly. From across the room, standing at the bar, Knife Patton howled with laughter.
    I snickered, unable to help myself. At least the club President thought the shit was funny.
    “Fuckin’ Lucky! No shame!” Blade said with a hearty laugh. Blade was more like a father figure to me than my own damn dad had been. I couldn’t count the number of times the old bastard had shown up to save me from my drunken old man’s beatings. I owed him a lot. Almost too much.
    “Please, Blade. What do I have to be embarrassed about?” I gave him a cocky look and tilted my head to the side, as if I were somehow innocent. I asked the question as if there was nothing at all wrong with standing in the middle of a crowded clubhouse with nothing more than the Emperor's Robes on, which there wasn’t. Many a man had done it.
    Rusty Grier eyed Blade then returned his gaze to me as he shook his head. He was the eldest biker, and stood irritated in the doorway, glaring at me and my lack of clothes.
    "This better