Home > Another One Bites the Dust (Freebirds #3)(2)

Another One Bites the Dust (Freebirds #3)(2)
Author: Lani Lynn Vale

 

 Of course he would think I’m inept, which couldn’t be further from the truth. I disentangled myself, reluctantly, from his body, and started walking out of the weight area to the locker room. Just as I reached for the door handle, Max’s large hand slammed down above my head and boxed me in.

 

 I turned around slowly, and my breath hitched when I found myself staring at his sternum. What a nice sternum it was, too. Reluctantly, I let my eyes wander up past his dog tags, up his thick neck, past his stubborn jaw, quickly skipping over his kissable lips, and settled on his eyes. They were filled with humor, and my temper came sparking to life.

 

 “Back off, pretty boy.” I snapped.

 

 “Pretty boy? Do you see this scar right here?” He asked running his finger along a scar that circled around his ear. “This scar makes me look manly, not pretty. Get it straight.”

 

 “Whatever. I have plans in an hour, please step aside.” I demanded.

 

 “With who?” He practically purred.

 

 His face was moving closer and closer to mine. Any second now, his lips would touch mine, and I’d be a goner. “A guy from my class, we have a test tomorrow and we’re studying.”

 

 “I’ll help you study.” He said right before his lips met mine.

 

 Fire burst through my lips, burning where his connected with mine. My lips parted with a gasp, and his tongue snuck inside, devouring my mouth. I moaned, and leaned into his body which somehow had mine pinned against the door. If I didn’t get control of myself, I’d allow him to fuck me right here and now; but, for some reason, that wasn’t bothering me at the moment.

 

 Rotating my hips, I ground my belly into his erection. He moaned, and had just put his hands on my hips when a nasty voice interrupted us, practically dousing my euphoria with a pail of icy water.

 

 “You could do way better. She’s short, fat, and ugly. Look at how sweaty she is.” Perky tits said.

 

 Perky tits was one of the women pretending to workout. Particularly, she was the one that was benching the bar, and didn’t have any form while she did so.

 

 “I’m sorry, honey. Some men like real women. Ones that can sweat and not whine about it. Ones that won’t throw a fit when her man’s sweat mingles with her own; allowing their bodies to glide together, adding a bit of messiness to the sex. The messier and nastier, the better, if you ask me.” I said, before taking advantage of Max’s preoccupation with Perky Tits overfilling D cups.

 

 Turning my nose up at him, I yanked open the door and ran as fast as my sore body would take me. I took the world’s fastest shower, and dressed in jeans and a Hard Rock Café t-shirt. Slipping my feet into flip-flops, I was out the door in under ten minutes.

 

 I came to an abrupt stop when I saw Max and Perky Tits talking in hushed voices. He had his arms crossed over his chest, but he was practically pinning her to the car, and my temper flared. How dare he come on to me, kiss me, grind against me, and then go to her after I left! How could he act as if nothing happened between us? As if I didn’t affect him in the slightest?

 

 Lucky for me, nothing actually happened and I could go back to ignoring him as I’d been doing for the last couple of months. The man really made my temper flare when he was around, and made me very uncomfortable. Ever since my attack, I haven’t been able to get close to a man without my heart rate skyrocketing, and my breathing speeding up. It scared the shit out of me even to be in the same room as some men at times. Going into Free nearly caused me to have a coronary.

 

 Cheyenne promised me that they were all harmless. I was skeptical, though. All I knew about motorcycle clubs was drawn entirely from watching Sons of Anarchy, and reading romance novels about MCs. At first, I wasn’t so sure about Free.

 

 Around town, the word was that they were a motorcycle club. The men of Free did nothing to rebuke the hearsay; I really was under the impression that they were a bunch of bad asses who would cut off your fingers if you did anything to cross them. Hell, even one look from them was intimidating, and they’d done nothing but smile at me when I walked in the garage that first time.

 

 Over time, I’ve gotten a lot better about being around them and not freaking out, but it wasn’t easy. Now, I’m able to have conversations with the men. Max, on the other hand, was an entirely different story. He just annoyed the shit out of me. I constantly saw him with women. Whether the slut puppies were coming to see him at Free or with him when he went out for a drink with Cheyenne and her husband at The Watering Hole. Never have I seen him without a woman when he’s in a social situation.

 

 He saw me coming and stepped away from the woman; I didn’t stop stomping to my car, despite the fact. The man could go stub a toe for all I cared; I wasn’t stopping if it killed me. He’d better watch himself from now on, too; I was so mad I could spew fire.

 

 He waved me down, but I didn’t wave back. Instead, I extended my favorite finger, and peeled out in a cloud of smoke. Bastard. Perky Tits smirked as she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

 

 I didn’t want to look in my rear view mirror. I refused to watch that vile woman run her hands all over him. I resisted the urge to look in my rearview mirror for a few seconds at least, but when I did I saw him shove her away with a brutal push, and stalk over to his motorcycle, starting it with a fierce thrust of his leg, and scowling at the woman as he, too, left the parking lot.

 

 

 ***

 Max

 Three months later

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I roared.

 

 Ember eyed Payton, pursing her lips in concentration. “That would be a no. She’s not. In fact, I think she is very, very serious.”

 

 “She’s gonna fucking kill herself, that’s what she’s going to do.” I growled.

 

 Payton was driving a motherfucking scooter down Fuller Street, the one-way road that ran up alongside Rusty’s Scooter Shop. The wrong way.

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