The Way I Like It (The Soldiers of Wrath MC, #5) (2 page)

Drinking the last of his whiskey, he suddenly lost his appetite for fucking, and for being at Dominion. Exiting the private room, he placed the glass on a waitresses serving tray, and made his way out of the back of the club. He wasn’t in the mood anymore.

As he stepped out of the club, Zeke and Alessandria were arriving. Striker wasn’t surprised as he watched Zeke open the door and help Alessandria out of the car. Zeke didn’t stop there, he placed his hand on her hip, holding her as they moved toward the entrance that was also Striker’s exit.

“You’re leaving?” Zeke asked, making his way toward him.

“It’s not my scene right now.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the two.

“Not your scene?”

“I’ve got to head out.” Nodding at both Zeke and Alessandria, he made his way toward the bike he’d parked in an alleyway. Climbing on, he fired up the engine and took off toward the Soldiers of Wrath clubhouse. Even riding his bike didn’t release any of the tension building within him. He was damn bored with
everything.

Life was just a straight line, no happiness or love, and just plain old crap day in, and day out.

The ride was over before it even began, and he parked his bike along with the rest of his brothers. Climbing off, he ran fingers through his hair, and simply stared around at the one place he belonged.

Fuck, what was going on with him?

He was turning into some kind of pussy, thinking about where he belonged.

“What brings you back to the club so early?” Weasel asked. The brother was smoking a joint and getting his dick sucked by a club whore.

“I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

Weasel glanced down at the dyed blonde’s head. “You can have a go after me, if you want? We’re filling her up with cum and making her all kinds of nasty.”

“It’s hard to fill her up with cum when you’re always bagging your dick.”

Weasel placed the joint between his lips and wrapped her hair around his fist. He tugged her head off and slammed into her mouth. “I’m not bagged right now, and she’s going to swallow every single drop. She’s already sucked four of the brothers. I wonder how long it will be before she’s full with our cum. Wonder if it’s fattening or laced with calories.”

“You’re fucking nasty.”

“Nasty for a nasty bitch who loves cock.”

Striker didn’t stick around. He wasn’t interested in the club whore at Weasel’s feet. Entering the clubhouse, he saw several guys fucking, drinking, or playing cards. Overall, the night was quiet, and not much was happening, nothing wild anyway.

Taking a seat at the bar, he saw Nerd was working through his little puzzle book. The guy was obsessed with his puzzles and always trying to work some shit out. He was a full nerd, and Striker imagined him being a little teacher’s pet in high school, always with his hand in the air.

Nerd might be into puzzles and books, but he was a mean ass motherfucker who was as vicious as they came. The books he’d read over the years had given him a hard stomach.

“You’re home early,” Nerd said, without looking up from his puzzle.

“Are you turning into a fucking woman?”

Nerd laughed. “I thought you’d be at Dominion. You’ve got your needs.”

“I’ve got a problem with it.”

“Geez, man, whatever.” Nerd held his hands up, and Striker shook his head.

“Sorry, I’m just not in a good place right now.”

“We all know what that feels like. Shit has been moving slowly around here. I almost miss getting my ass shot at. And I’ve got such a nice ass.”

“Fuck off, Nerd.”

“Come on, you know you want to take a nice bite out of my ass.”

Rolling his eyes, Striker took the beer that one of the club whores gave him. He couldn’t remember her name. They all seemed to blend together.

E
lena stared at her reflection in the mirror. She stood alone in the bathroom the staff was allowed to use. The diner was busy, but her shift wasn’t due to start for another ten minutes. She’d come to work thirty minutes early, that’s how boring her life was right now. All she wanted to do was work, sleep, and perhaps study. She was taking night classes since her family wouldn’t pay the money for her to go away to college.

She no longer lived with her parents; they wanted her to be a good little wife who married a man of their choice. Her dreams didn’t seem important to them. No matter how hard Elena tried, she couldn’t force herself to fall for a man she didn’t know, didn’t like, and was twenty years older.

Her mother and father actually believed she would be suited to have a man who could tame her wild ways.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, she turned away from the mirror.

None of her answers were ever going to come from staring in a mirror. Entering the main diner, she grabbed her notepad, and started taking orders. She had two shifts today, the morning run, which ended at twelve, and then she was back at six, where she’d stay until two in the early hours of the morning.

Annie and Sasha gave her a smile. They were the two other waitresses who’d taught her how to wait tables and deal with difficult customers. In a way, those two women were her friends.

It was pitiful, nineteen years old, and she had two friends, but then her life hadn’t been conducive to building relationships. Her parents home schooled her for the most of her life, and she’d never been good at making friends with new people.

One day, she was going to leave all of this behind and live her life to the fullest. Until she did, she had bills to pay as she tried to make her way without her parents. She could do it; she was determined to succeed.

S
triker slammed his dick into the club whore and spanked her ass repeatedly. She cried out beneath him, but he wasn’t feeling it. Hell, he couldn’t even keep his dick hard. He’d managed to stay away from Dominion, and he was losing his fucking mind. He couldn’t handle not going and delivering the pain he gave to the submissive women, but he didn’t want the club to know where he was going to get that release, no matter what Nerd had said about them being okay with it. 

Fuck, it was all fucked up.

He needed to give pain, and he needed a woman to want that pain and enjoy it because it gave her pleasure to make him happy.

Pulling out of the faceless whore, he tore off the condom and told her to get the fuck out of his room.

“What did I do wrong?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Just get the fuck out.”

“Come on, Striker; I want your dick.”

He was annoyed with himself, his life, his desires, and especially with her for pushing him right now. “Your pussy is too damn big. Stay off the brothers and tighten yourself up.” He heard her gasp and didn’t care. Picking up his jeans, he tugged on a shirt, left his room, and the club. He ignored the calls of the brothers and kept making his way toward his bike.

Fresh air and a ride would clear his mind; maybe it would help him to deal with whatever shit was going on in his head.

He rode around town for an hour, and the whole time, he kept going back to the same old problems. Striker should tell Demon more about his needs, his cravings, and that if he didn’t go back soon, it was going to drive him crazy. Maybe the prez wouldn’t even give a shit? He’d lose his shit, be too strung out, and that wasn’t safe for him or the club.

When hunger finally got the better of him, he pulled into the parking lot of a small diner. Dismounting his Harley, he made his way into the restaurant. There were only a couple of people eating, and he took a seat in the back.

Minding his own business, Striker picked up the menu and looked it over.

“Hi there, is there anything I can get you to drink to start off?” a sweet voice said, invading his solitude and his frustration.

Looking up, he stared into the most beautiful green eyes he’d ever seen. Her raven hair cascaded around her shoulders, and he didn’t know what to say.

For a moment, he couldn’t speak; he didn’t know what it was about her that caused this tightness in his body and made it stand at attention. There was an air of vulnerability, an innocence, and a timid demeanor. It called to the Dom in him, the male that wanted to protect her. The sensation to do that was so sudden, so powerful, that he felt his heart pick up speed, felt his palms start to sweat, and grew even more annoyed with himself.

Was he that hard up for a little D/s action, for a scene to help him relax and let off the steam inside of him that he was resorting to wanting random women, including his waitress?

Get yourself together.

“Sir?”

He knew she was being polite in using that term, but fucking hell, hearing her say it, knowing that it was one of the titles he used a Dom, had Striker instantly getting wood. He shifted on the seat, tried to act like he wasn’t affected, but shit, he hadn’t felt this kind of arousal, not even at Dominion. It was misplaced for sure, but undeniable.

“Um,” she looked a little nervous and started biting her lip. Striker couldn’t help but watch the act. And when she looked over her shoulder, her shirt becoming snug around her chest, her white bra visible through her equally white t-shirt, his dick punched forward even more. The fucker rubbed along his zipper, wanting out.

“I,” he cleared his throat, his voice gruff.

“Can I get you something to drink?” She was biting her lip again, and he didn’t miss how she looked at his cut. Did she know what his biker vest meant? Did she know what it meant to be a Patch? Maybe she did because she looked nervous as hell.

“Coffee. Just coffee right now.”

She nodded once, stood there for a second, just staring at him, and then turned and left him at his table, staring at her ass, and wanting to bend her over the lunch counter. He stared at her ass, those big, luscious, juicy globes moving under the tight material of her black pants. She had a woman’s body, thick, lush, and able to take a pounding from a man like him.

He reached under the table and adjusted his cock, the fucker so damn hard he almost groaned at the slight touch alone. And like some sick, obsessed asshole, Striker couldn’t stop staring at her. She looked at him, the long dark fall of her hair not able to hide the fact she might be uncomfortable by his attention. If she was afraid, she had every right to be. What he wanted to do to an innocent looking woman like her was so wrong, because she looked too innocent for his desires and needs.

Well, damn, he was either one sick bastard, hard up for a good session of fucking, or something about that woman called out to his dominating side that no other woman had ever brought forth. Either way, Striker didn’t know if he could ignore it, but he’d sure as hell try. That woman, shy and innocent in appearance, would be scared shitless if she knew the kind of things he liked to do in the bedroom.

E
lena wrapped her coat tighter around her body, the chill in the air intense. She hated walking home, hated the night. But with no extra money for a car, and barely making ends meet as it was, Elena was forced to walk home at night. And to top it off, she lived in a shitty part of town, one where drug dealers and prostitutes were a common occurrence.

Turning left on the street, she slipped her hand in her coat pocket, kept her pepper spray firmly in her grasp, her finger on the depressor, and kept her eyes open. She hated this, hated that she had to be afraid all the time. The sound of people laughing and swearing, even moaning could be heard, and Elena looked to the side and saw the neon sign for Dominion. She didn’t know much about the club, but she did know it was a popular, if not exclusive, BDSM place. She’d seen men and women entering and leaving every time she walked past it, and the bouncer by the door seemed like a brute, always glaring at her.