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Does her duty.

Cares.

Is secretly anxious not to be the only active one anymore.

“Dock…” a feminine voice croons from the opposite direction, closer to the bar, prompting me to allow my gaze to find where it’s coming from.

The second the black-haired Cookie sees me see her she waves.

Drops the same pale ivory fingers to the top of her chest.

Strokes.

Causes my stomach to churn.

She’s not a bad fuck.

I’m just…not in the mood.

Haven’t been in the mood.

Can’t even imagine the mood.

Probably just sleep deprivation shit.

“Been lookin’ for you,” she coos upon her arrival.

It’s easier to hide during big club parties like this one.

Having the nomad, Deacon Hallstrom “Bones”, in town is the reason the shindig is twice as big as usual.

Nomads are rare.

When they arrive somewhere – whether that’s for a day or months – it’s our decree to make it feel like a giant welcome home party because wherever they go, they need to know they are home.

Club is the home.

Chapters are simply where you build something more with your brothers.

“Wanna do some body shots?” Her oversized teeth take a large bite out of her thin, downturned lip. “I wore your favorite panties.” She leans – what I assume she thinks is seductively – forward. “None.”

Wonder if Teach would ever go without?

Maybe slip them from underneath her weird patterned skirt.

Tuck them in my pocket before I go for a ride.

Let me jerk off into them in the bathroom when I can’t take being away from her anymore.

Unconsciously grumbling precedes me putting my mouth to the glass with the intention of washing away the bitterness.

Fuck it.

I don’t need that shit.

Her shit.

Her hangups.