Breaker (Silver Saints MC) - Page 4

After the set, my eyes had followed her, and I scowled when some asshole went up onto the stage to talk to her. My hands balled into fists when he reached out and touched her face, but part of me cheered when she recoiled.

I watched her extract herself from the situation, and my eyes narrowed at the annoyance that flashed on the man’s face. I didn’t like the way his gaze followed her ass, either. He went back to stand by an exit, and I realized he was a club bouncer, which meant she probably had to fend him off constantly whenever she played here. That thought darkened my mood, and if she hadn’t distracted me, I might have gone over and blackened both his eyes for staring at my girl’s curves.

She grabbed a water at the bar, then headed in the direction of the ladies’ room, walking directly past me. When she was in front of my table, her head turned in my direction, and our eyes met. Electricity cracked in the air around us, and I felt a sense of satisfaction when lust clouded her beautiful hazel orbs.

She looked a little shell-shocked, and I didn’t want to scare her off, so I remained in my seat but didn’t break our stare down. After a minute, she tore her eyes away and hurried to the bathroom. When she reemerged, she rushed toward the stage but peeked at me a few times, her pink lips curved up at the corners. Unable to help myself, I winked at her and grinned at the twin spots of pink that bloomed on her cheeks.

The band played another fantastic set, and when they were done, they began to pack up their equipment. I spied that same douche making a beeline for the stage with determined features. Obviously, I needed to step in and shut that shit down.

I exited the booth and threw cash on the table for the tip before making my way over to the stairs. My girl was clearly procrastinating and kept looking toward the bouncer as if she were hoping he would give up and leave. She didn’t seem to know her own appeal, which just made her even more adorable.

I reached the stage just as her shoulders dropped in resignation, and she bent to pick up the case holding her keyboard. The asshole was blocking the steps, so I jumped easily onto the platform. All four bandmates looked at me in stunned silence, but only my rocker had my attention. She straightened, and her pretty mouth formed a little O. I shoved away the filthy images her shiny, pink lips inspired.

Swaggering right up to her, I put my arms around her, each hand grabbing a handful of her ass to haul her up against me. “Hey, baby,” I said loud enough for the asshole to hear before lowering my head and capturing her mouth in a kiss.

Her arms automatically went around my neck, and she melted into me. My mouth ran along the seam of her lips, and they parted, allowing me entry. She tasted like candy, and with one lick, I was addicted. I angled my head to deepen the kiss, and her sweet, little moan nearly blew away the last of my control. Before I took her to the nearest dark corner and fucked her, I forced myself to break away.

The dazed expression on her face, coupled with her kiss-swollen lips and the way she was clinging to me, almost did me in. But I kept reminding myself that I first needed to stake my claim and get this fucker to stop harassing my girl. Then I could work on convincing her that she was mine.

“I missed you,” I murmured as I slid her down my body. I locked our gazes, urging her to back my play.

“Um, yeah,” she mumbled. Her eyes darted to the bouncer and back to me, dropping to my mouth before she licked her lips.

I spoke quietly this time, my words for her ears only. “You keep looking at me like that, and I’m going to do a fuck of a lot more than kiss your lips and grab your ass.”

A few whistles and catcalls broke us out of our bubble, and I gave her another quick peck before releasing her. Then I dropped one arm over her shoulder in a possessive gesture.

The bouncer looked at me with mild irritation on his face, but there was rage in his eyes. His meaty hands were balled into fists so tight his knuckles were white. He came up the steps and glared at my girl.

“Who is this asshole, Ireland?” he snarled.

“Watch your tone with my girl,” I said in a low, dangerous tone. Ireland—a beautiful name that fit her perfectly—shivered, and I suppressed a smile.

“Your girl?” he spat. “That’s bullshit. Ireland isn’t dating anyone.”

Tags: Fiona Davenport Romance
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