I opened my mouth to speak, pausing while I digested his crude words, and then plowed on unperturbed. “I’m not a bitch. I mean, I’m not someone’s bitch. In fact, there are plenty of women out there that aren’t someone’s bitch, so take your crude, arrogant and disrespectful attitude and go fuck yourself, okay?”
He opened his mouth to speak, his eyes flashing angrily, but I cut him off, finding that I was on a roll. All the things I had wanted to say to every one of the Bangers bikers, and Dom, and any other man in general, were rolling off my lips.
“And you know what else?” I bit out, my eyes narrowing.
“What?” he replied darkly, his tone low and threatening, warning me to quit while I was ahead. But of course I didn’t.
“Today, you’re my bitch, bitch! So grab me a damned shopping cart and get to pushing it, and when I’m done you can carry my damn bags too! Got it?” I cocked an eyebrow at him, feeling sick to my stomach with the anger that had flared behind his eyes, and wondering if he was going to slap me—or worse—shoot me. No, he wouldn’t do that, would he?
Just when I thought I couldn’t take the tension anymore, he cracked a cocky smile and opened his door.
“Where are you going, prospect?” I snapped, half panicked and half furious.
He turned back to look at me, his smile still in place but fury in his eyes. “Going to get you a motherfuckin’ shopping cart, ma’am. Ain’t that what you wanted?”
I snapped my jaw closed and nodded my head, and he shut his door and stalked off to get me a cart while I caught my breath and tried to stop myself from having a heart attack. Fierce old lady I would never make, that was for certain.
I climbed out of the truck and headed inside with the prospect following me. And yeah, I may have put a little extra sway to my hips to show him what he’d never have. So kill me.
The store was cool and I almost cried out thank you, Lord as the air-conditioning hit my skin. I decided immediately that I would not be cutting my shopping trip short. In fact, I was going to take my damned time about it, because outside it was like the seventh circle of hell, and inside it was like a freezer box. My skin pebbled with goose bumps, and I shivered as my sweat dried and my nipples hardened.
The prospect came to stand next to me—too close, really, but I didn’t push him away. He looked over at me, his eyes like black pools and his presence stealing the air from me. He smelled like sweat and cologne, engine oil, and something else I couldn’t put my finger on yet knew so well. He smelled like a man, and I couldn’t deny how much it turned me on, despite thinking he was a pig.
“Where to, ma’am?” he asked cockily, almost like he was taunting me.
Well fuck him, I decided. I’d play along too. “I need some new clothes. And shoes. And underwear, so get a move on, prospect,” I said, biting that last part out because I knew it annoyed him.
“The name’s Casa,” he replied, as if being called a prospect was shameful or embarrassing. He should have been proud, not embarrassed.
I thought about how often my name had been used in the past few years, and how often I had been called bitch or clubslut or sweetbutt—now those were embarrassing names—and I wondered why I had let it go on for so long. It wasn’t like I had to stay, or had to put up with that. I had chosen to. Using my name would have been humane, but using a degrading nickname had been easier for everyone to play their parts. Even me.
“So?” I replied with a cock of my eyebrow. I turned and kept on walking, loving the flash of anger in his eyes. The prospect followed me, pushing the shopping cart, and I couldn’t help but smile when I glanced back and saw him scowling down at the wonky wheel on the cart.
I grabbed some tank tops and a pair of jeans and some more shorts, because I did not want to wear some other chick’s clothes again. A couple of summer dresses, a pair of sandals, and some rip-off version of Chucks, and then I headed into the underwear aisle to grab a new bra and some panties.
The prospect surprised me by following, his gaze roving over the underwear as I moved down the aisle. I picked up some plain black panties and matching bra and he tutted.
“What?” I snapped, scowling at him.
He shook his head and shrugged. “Nothin’.”
I looked back at the panties and bra, feeling uncertain now. I mean they were nice, practical, and that’s all they needed to be. It’s not like I was going to be getting any action anytime soon, so I didn’t need anything fancy. And I’d had my fair share of slutty underwear in the past couple of years, and look where that had gotten me. No, I needed something simple, plain. Practical.
I put them back anyway.
I moved along the aisle and picked up some lacy white panties with a high arch to the legs, and when I looked over at the prospect he nodded approvingly and I blushed profusely. I tutted and looked away again, throwing the panties in the cart and grabbing a matching lacy white balconette bra.
“Much better,” he stated.
“As if I need your approval,” I muttered, and started to walk again.
He chuckled and flushed even redder. I headed to the food section, completely over clothes shopping now, and piled the cart with enough food to feed a small army. Before we went to pay for my shopping, I grabbed some makeup too. Nothing fancy—just enough to make me feel more like myself.
Back outside, the prospect piled everything into the truck while I climbed inside and waited for him, and I laughed quietly while he cussed at me for being a lazy bitch. I didn’t care what he thought of me. After today, I’d make sure I never saw him again. I was done being someone’s plaything, or someone’s bitch.
I had enjoyed speaking to him like shit though, and that had surprised me. Not so much speaking to him like shit, I guess, but I definitely enjoyed the power and control I had had. I wanted more of it. I wanted to be the strong, confident woman I was pretending to be. So fuck this prospect, and any other man who thought they could treat me like shit.
I was not a clubslut anymore.
Or a sweetbutt.
Or someone’s bitch.
Or old lady…that was just laughable.
I was Harlow Bernadette McQueen.
I was a strong, independent woman, and I would do something with my life, even if it killed me.
I had lived in a bubble for the past couple of years, but I was emerging, stronger and more confident. I nodded my head at my own pep talk as the prospect climbed back inside the truck. I hadn’t always been such a pushover, yet the years had been hard and long and had worn me down until I was this shy, meek, do-gooder. Scratch that last one, I was always a do-gooder.
“All right, I’m done. I got more important shit to do than run your skinny white ass all over town,” he grumbled and started the engine of the truck.
“I want to go to Chick-fil-A,” I stated quickly, my arms crossed over my chest. When the truck didn’t move and the prospect didn’t reply, I turned to find him staring at me with wide eyes and slack jaw. “Did you hear me? I’m hungry, and I believe Dom, your…” I struggled for the right word but couldn’t think of it, and the prospect had raised a sexy eyebrow at me, which didn’t help. “…brother—your unrelated brother, anyway—told you to take me wherever I wanted to go. And I want to go to Chick-fil-A.”
“Chick-fil-A?” he practically snarled at me, looking like he was ready to explode and more than over my bitchy little attitude.
I nodded. “Chick-fil-A,” I repeated as if he were a five-year-old, even though I knew I was baiting him. “What? You have something more important to do, like watching someone’s old lady or cleaning some motorcycles for your brothers?” I rolled my eyes obnoxiously.
He glared at me and I tried not to cower under it, even though I knew I probably should have. I mean, he may have been a prospect, but he was still a dangerous biker. And despite his good looks, he was tall and muscled and could probably snap me like a little iddy biddy twig. And I wasn’t a claimed woman, meaning that I wasn’t entirely protected by the club e
ither.
Still, I was a redhead and Dom had told me to find my fire.
Well, here it was. Sass and all.
Chapter eleven:
Casa
I was still staring at her, my nostrils flaring and my jaw grinding angrily. But she was on a fucking roll and completely unperturbed by me—which was stupid of her, because I was about done with putting up with her shit. I had no clue why this bitch thought I was a prospect, or why I had even played along with it to start with, but I was about done with her speaking to me like shit.
“Are you deaf? Did you hear what I said?” she snapped out, holding my stare.
Holy hell, I was going to kill her.
Right after I fucked her, because damn she was hot. Her smart mouth made her the entire motherfucking package.
So fuck her. Kill her. Hide the body.
“Hello?” She clicked her fingers in front of my face and my dick got harder than a steel rod. Crazy cock clearly liked being spoken to like this.
“I fucking heard you all right,” I snapped back, bewildered as to where she’d grown her big-ass lady balls from. A normal woman would have shut their fucking mouth when she saw she was pissing off the big bad fucking biker. But not this crazy bitch. Woman had a death wish and I was about to grant it….right after I got her a motherfucking Chick-fil-A, because she was also hot as hell when she yelled at me. Then I’d fuck her and then I’d kill her. Yeah, in that order, too, because I didn’t want her starving and passing out on me before I’d made her scream my name in motherfucking ecstasy.
I shoved the truck into gear and screeched out of the parking lot, knowing that I couldn’t do either of those things. She was Dom’s, not mine. Fucking hated that thought for some reason.
She fumbled for her seatbelt as I swerved in and out of traffic, giving a little squeal as I sped through a red light. I liked hearing her squeal, though I would have preferred her to hear her squealing my name as I thrust my tongue into her pussy.
I glanced sideways at her, a small smile on my face at that last thought. She was chewing on her cheek and looking terrified by my driving. She looked hot like that—flushed pink, chest heaving, eyes wide. My dick twitched in agreement.
I looked away and concentrated on driving so I didn’t end up crashing and killing us both, because where this girl was concerned, she made my thoughts spin out of control. Five minutes later we pulled up to the Chick-fil-A drive-through.
I turned to her, putting all my anger into my stare, my jaw twitching like it had a mind of its own. And thank fuck she was looking at my face, because my dick was straining at the zipper and there was no fucking denying what it wanted. “Well, princess? What the fuck do you want to eat?”
She stared at me, and her beautiful blue eyes blinked rapidly like she’d forgotten where we were going. “Umm, a McChicken sandwich meal,” she said breathlessly, her eyes all big and round and motherfucking beautiful.
She refused to look away from me and I couldn’t deny that I liked that—the fire she clearly had in her was a big fucking turn-on. There was nothing more unattractive than a weak woman—well, I also liked big tits and a tight pussy, but attitude went a long way too.
But this was Dom’s bitch, not mine, and I’d been warned she was off-limits. Though I wouldn’t have made her my old lady, I definitely would have let her hang around for a while. But I knew Dom wouldn’t be making her his old lady either, which was a damn shame because I could see what he liked about her—other than her banging body and cute-as-a-fucking-button nose. There was definitely something about this girl.
Jesus Christ, what the fuck was happening to me?
I pushed everything away and continued to glare at her. “This ain’t no McDonald’s, girl,” I yelled, avoiding the word bitch for once, since she hated it so fucking much. Shouldn’t have mattered to me, but it did. “We’ve got a Chick-fil-A Deluxe sandwich or a spicy sandwich or Chick-fil-A nuggets, but we don’t have no motherfucking McChicken sandwich meal. So what the fuck do you want?” I growled out, my body feeling hot.
“A…um…a Deluxe,” she mumbled, her confidence sliding away as my anger grew. “Please?”
“A Deluxe what?” I snapped.
“A Chick-fil-A Deluxe sandwich, please,” she added on, her big eyes sucking me in and making me feel shitty for getting so mad at her. But I couldn’t help it. No one spoke to me the way she did. Because anyone that did got fucking put to ground or fucked till they couldn’t walk straight again. And I couldn’t do either of those things. So now I was just turned on and angry as fuck.
I let out a forced breath and turned away from her with a shake of my head. I felt fucking dazed by her. She was like Medusa or some shit, that was for sure, and I needed to calm the fuck down.
“Fucking bitches are all the same,” I muttered to myself before speaking into the little speaker box, ordering something for myself and then her stupid chicken sandwich meal. I glanced back at her, my gaze roving over her tiny body again. “I’m assuming a small?” I asked, arching a cocky eyebrow at her.
Her face hardened. “Make it an extra-large, prospect,” she bit out, making sure to emphasize the prospect part. I forced myself not to laugh.
This bitch was Crazy! Crazy with a capital motherfucking C!
“You think you can handle that size meat?” I asked, amusement in my tone, and it was obvious she was trying not to laugh too. The tension between us was heated and palpable.
“Definitely,” she replied, almost as cockily as me, her eyes narrowing.
I grinned and let my gaze stray to her full mouth, which was parted slightly. “Yeah, I just bet you fuckin’ can,” I mumbled before turning back to the speaker box.
“The lady will have it exceptionally large,” I said, exaggeration on the word large, and I smiled as she laughed behind me.
I pulled around to the window and paid for our meal before collecting our order, and then I dropped the paper bags of food unceremoniously onto her lap before shoving the drinks into the plastic cup holders.
I watched from the corner of my eye as she bit into a waffle fry and groaned in satisfaction. Fuck, I was hungry, and watching her eat was hot. I dragged a hand down my face, fucking clueless as to what was happening to me.
“You want one?” she asked with a mouth full of food.
“Fuck yeah I do,” I replied.
She reached into the bag as I continued to drive, and she pulled out another waffle fry before leaning over. I opened my mouth to bite down on it when she quickly pulled it away and I chewed on air, my teeth clashing together painfully.
“What the fuck?” I snapped, glaring at her, but all she did was laugh.
The bitch fucking laughed at me.
“Give it to me,” I commanded angrily, my nostrils flaring, “now!” Clearly she thought this was some big fucking joke. Well, I’d end that fucking thought process when I wrapped my hands around that skinny neck of hers!
She laughed again, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes as tears trickled out the sides. “You should see your face, though. Here, I’m sorry!” She leaned over, and when I went to bite down on the fry again, she pulled it away. Again.
“Are you fucking kidding me, girl?” I yelled. “I’m serious! Do you have a motherfucking death wish? Because I will shoot your fine ass if you don’t give it to me!”
She laughed so hard she snorted, and I almost crashed the truck because I couldn’t stop staring at her. My emotions ranging from pulling over and putting a bullet in her brain to pulling over and fucking her so hard she screamed my name out loud enough that Dom would hear it all the way down in Savannah. Either way she wouldn’t be fucking laughing anymore.
I glared at her, my muscles and dick twitching almost equally. One of them needed to get some action. Yet I couldn’t do anything but stare at her. Because for the first time all day, I saw her.
Really fucking saw her.
And goddamn she was beautiful.
&n
bsp; Her head thrown back, her mouth full of food, her eyes squeezed closed as she giggled like she was a little kid and didn’t have a damn worry in the world. Her tits bouncing with every belly laugh she gave, her cheeks flushed. I tried to hold back my own smirk, but found I couldn’t because this bitch’s laugh was infectious and without a doubt she had gotten under my skin and into my bloodstream like drugs to a crackhead. I swallowed and shook my head, shaking away the daze that she had put me in as I managed to finally force my smirk away. I leaned over and snatched the fry straight from her hand before shoving it in my mouth with an angry glare.
She continued to chuckle and shove fries in her mouth simultaneously as I drove us home. But at least she put the bag between us so I could reach in and get my own damned fries.
I pulled up outside Dom’s house and turned off the engine and we ate the rest of our food in silence, just the sound of crunching and slurping, and crinkling food wrappers. When we were done, she shoved all the wrappers in one bag and climbed out of the truck without a second glance, and I watched her pert ass strutted to the front door. I willed her to turn back around and look at me.
It wasn’t important, at least, it sure as hell shouldn’t have been important. And yet it was.
“Turn around, turn around,” I mumbled, my chest feeling heavy. No idea why I wanted her to look back at me, but I did. Desperately.
She pulled her keys out of her pocket, and fumbled around trying to find the right one for several seconds before shoving a key in the hole and turning it.
“Turn around,” I whispered to no one again.
Harlow pushed open the door and walked inside and I let out a long, almost painful breath, for some reason feeling strangely disappointed that she hadn’t looked back at me. I scowled and pushed open my own door, looking over to where she had just been standing as I jumped out.
And there she was.
Harlow.
Ride or Die 2 Page 7
