Mature Content 17+ || Savage Wolves MC Book Three
Talia's been through hell and back. After suffering at the hands of Dmitri Petrov and his band of goons, she was left broken and ruined.
But, she isn't going to let that stop her from being the woman...
*Talia's name is pronounced as Taal-ee-uh; here is a video of its pronunciation https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=4j2Hio9jcUs Hello lovely readers, I wanted to take a moment to announce my absence was due to my husband (who is military) being rapidly deployed overseas with only a two day notice. I was distraught after he left, especially considering what is going on in the world, and I don't know when I'll see him again. I'm back to writing though because I couldn't stay gone forever. Thank you for your kind messages and well wishes! It was very nice of you all.*
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•Ryder•
How that little spitfire manages to get me rock hard in seconds is beyond my realm of understanding.
Her fiery nature is just underneath the surface, shielded by her pain that she's trying hard to mask with drugs and alcohol. That fiery nature is what calls to me. It's what entices me, lures me in, wraps it's sensual grasp around my body and pulls me under the sea of arousal.
I have to step out of the bar when I watch her lithe frame reach up, onto her toes, to grasp the bottle of vodka on the top shelf. Her ass cheeks, so round and perfect, like firm globes of delectable flesh I want to sink my teeth into, poking out of the bottom of her shorts.
Does she have to dress like that?
Sticking a smoke between my teeth, I push through the crowd, smirking at Blade as he scurries away with Letha, sneaking into his old room upstairs next to mine to get into whatever mischief the duo normally partakes in.
Her tiny frame clings to my brother, his own hands wrapped tightly around her waist as he drags her up the stairs.
I chuckle, the haze of alcohol blurring my vision and making everything around me seem more amusing than it typically would be.
A few hangarounds inch their way towards me, hoping to catch me for a moment so they can talk, but I'm not interested in feeding anyone's desires to be attached to this club.
Not with this raging hard on and ache so deep in my body, only sinking myself into Talia's hot depths will be able to fix.
I collapse into a patio chair by the pool, a couple I don't recognize - probably a wannabe Sheep and more recent addition to the ever-growing hangaround numbers - are making out across the way.
"Hey!" I bark, shielding the sides of my mouth to amplify my voice, still muffled from the cigarette dangling between my lips.
They perk up and look my way and I thumb towards the Den. "Get lost."
A couple scoffs and muffled complaints later, and the two stand, shuffling fast by me towards the back entrance and into the sea of people dancing and maneuvering inside the clubhouse.
Pulling the flask gifted to me by my father on my sixteenth birthday, one year before his suicide, I spin the cap off, taking a long pull and nearly draining the metallic container of its contents.
