Heidi listed as her place of employment. Nervous didn’t even begin to cover how I was feeling. I was so close to finding her that I could almost taste it.
After careful consideration, I chose to wear a pair of ripped, skinny jeans with what I referred to as a conversation starter T-shirt and a pair of strappy sandals. I was going for trendy yet approachable. With my hair and makeup finished, I grabbed my purse and keys before I could talk myself out of going.
As I drove to the bar, a part of me wished I had at least told Frankie where I was going. I could have really used one of her pep talks right before I walked into an unfamiliar bar in a strange town all by myself…hoping to find a sibling who didn’t know I existed. Yeah, a pep talk and a handle of Vodka would have been stellar right then.
But I was nothing if not determined. So, I opened the door and walked inside, strutting to the bar in my big girl panties.
2
I looked up right as a hot blonde crossed the room and sat her firm ass on a bar stool, in my direct line of sight. For the first time in months, a woman caught my cock’s attention, and I knew right then I wasn’t going anywhere. I was considering heading back to the clubhouse, but my dick was straining for her promise land like his life depended on it.
My eyes stayed on her for several minutes after she ordered a drink to see if she was staying there or moving to a table. After a few sips, she stayed put, and I made my approach, silently hoping that Layla didn’t embarrass the fuck out of me trying to be helpful.
I loved Layla with my whole heart. I knew she meant well, but I was a grown-ass man with a solid game. I didn’t need my older brother’s Old Lady’s help getting pussy. But, because I loved her and didn’t want to hurt her feelings, I couldn’t tell her that either. Or wouldn’t. I knew it wasn’t my fault, and she was very adamant that she didn’t think anything of it anymore, but I still felt guilty about the awful things I said to Layla when we first met.
Glancing at Layla, I ordered myself a beer before I took a seat beside the beautiful blonde. I had to give credit where credit is due. Layla handed me a beer and went back to serving other customers without a word. To be honest, I was expecting her to tell me to get it my damn self, and I was glad she didn’t. It’s not that I was trying to hide who I was, but in my experience, women looked at bikers one of two ways—we were either criminals or the fuck of a lifetime. And while I wasn’t ready to settle down like a number of my club brothers, I was starting to get tired of being overlooked as a person.
I took a sip of my beer and pulled myself out of my thoughts by glancing at her tits. Or that’s what I was trying to do when I read the one word printed across her chest.
Moist.
Choosing my words carefully, I turned to her and grinned. “Nice shirt. Is that your way of weeding out the creeps?”
“Maybe,” she replied and flicked her eyes to me.
Flashing her my best panty-dropping smile, I told her the truth. “Darlin’, if you think there’s a man in this room who hasn’t associated the word stretched across your tits with your pussy, you’re sadly mistaken. Granted, not all of them would say it, but every damn one of them’s thinking it.”
“Hmm,” she replied and traced the rim of her glass with her index finger. “I don’t know what to do with you. You’re the first one to ask me about my moist pussy without actually asking me about it.”
My cock twitched at her words. “Fuck me,” I groaned and pressed the heel of my palm against my hard dick in a vain attempt to get some relief. “We can talk about your moist pussy later tonight.” Talk about it. Play with it. Taste it. Fuck it. “Once we’ve gotten to know each other a little better,” I added.
She smirked and finally turned to fully face me. And holy shit, she was gorgeous. Her hair wasn’t overdone, and her skin wasn’t caked with layers of makeup. It looked like I could