Hawk's Property:Insurgents Motorcycle Club(8)

By: Chiah Wilder

“You taste good, baby.” Smiling, he licked his lips.

Before she could answer, Sherrie slammed into Cara. “Sorry, Car. I don’t feel so good. I just puked. We gotta go.”

Grateful for an excuse to get away from this mesmerizing man, Cara took Sherrie by the hand. “Sure, let’s go.” She glanced at Hawk.

“Do you need any help? How are you girls gonna get home?”

“I drove. We’re good, thanks.” Cara put her arm around her friend and walked toward the door. Sherrie leaned against her. Realizing it was impossible to help Sherrie and walk in four-inch heels, Cara glanced back at Hawk. Looking amused, a half-smile dancing on his lips, he came over and put his arm around Sherrie. Cara’s jaw stiffened; she hated having to rely on him for help.

“Let me get your friend in your car.”

With a pinched expression, she sighed. “Thanks.”

Hawk, holding a not-so-steady Sherrie in his arms, followed Cara to her black Mercedes-Benz. He whistled. “Nice set of wheels. You got a sugar daddy?”

Ignoring his remarks, Cara said, “You can put Sherrie over here.” She opened the passenger door.

When Sherrie was safely in the car, Cara started to open the driver’s door, but Hawk tugged her around. She was shocked once again when Hawk took her mouth and kissed her deeply. Tremors shook her body when the kiss ended, and he brought a handful of her hair to his lips, kissed it, then rubbed its silkiness against his cheek. He leaned into her, his hardness pressing against her stomach.

“I have to go. I don’t want Sherrie to puke all over my car,” Cara said with a laugh. She had to get away from him before she did something she’d regret.

“Can you come back? I can follow you and help you with your friend, and then we can get to know each other even better.” He nuzzled into her hair.

“No, no, that won’t work. I have to go.”

“Fuck, baby, don’t leave me wanting you. Let’s have a little fun before you take off.”

“I have to go. Thanks for helping me with Sherrie.”

“If you have to go, then go.” Hawk’s jaw clenched.

“I do have to go.”

Silence followed. Cara opened her car door, but she paused when Hawk gripped her arm, saying, “What’s your number? Maybe we could hook up sometime.”

Cara wanted to get far away from Hawk. Being with him was like riding on a runaway train. Not in the mood to argue, and certain that Hawk would not walk away empty-handed, she took out a tissue from her purse, scribbled a phone number, and put it in his hands. Closing her car door, Cara waved to him as she drove away.

* * *

The red tail lights disappeared into the night. Back in the bar once more, Hawk ordered another beer. A blonde with a tight t-shirt and denim Daisy Dukes came up to him. He recognized her as a hoodrat—the girls who came to the clubhouse to party with the brothers. He couldn’t remember her name, but he remembered she liked it rough.

The bimbo placed her elbow on the bar. “Did you lose your girlfriend?”

“What the fuck?”

“I saw you and that stuck-up bitch. You were really into her. Where’d she go?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hawk yanked her toward him. Cara had given him a major hard-on, and he had to fuck some pussy real bad. “What’s your name again?”

“Hawk, I can’t believe you don’t remember my name. It’s Crystal.” She pushed out her lower lip.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go to the back room.”

Crystal put her arms around him and tugged his face toward hers. She tried to kiss him, but he pushed back. “No kissing, just fucking.”

“What the fuck? You sure were kissing Miss Bitch.”

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