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Night Sky(8)

By:Colbie Kay

When I turn to her, she starts to beg, Please don't go in there Ever! Please! I am begging you!

I don't understand why she’s being like this. My frustration starts to take over as I try to tell her again, Zoey, it will be fine. He loves me. We just have to talk and get past this.

I’m starting to get irritated with everyone. What is the problem? Why don’t they want me to see him? I start heading to the door again and this time no one stops me. I let my eyes adjust from the sun to the darkness of the club as I look around, finding two people on a couch. I take a few steps closer, then stop dead in my tracks. I know those hands.


My mouth drops open, tears cloud my vision because of the blonde bouncing on him. I cover my mouth with my hand and no matter how hard I try, I can't pull my eyes away from the sight before me.

Bam Bam taps Writer on his shoulder, getting his attention, then he points to me. Shock is written all over Bam's handsomely bearded face. My heart shatters into a million pieces when his eyes lock with mine and he smiles, not just any smile, no, this one is sinister, pure evil.

He fucking smiled!

Oh God, this is bad. So very fucking bad, I should’ve listened. How could you? is all I can manage before backing away and stumbling into Zoey on my way out. I turn, running out of the bar.

I feel sick, I can't breathe. When I get outside, the cold air hits me, but it does no good helping me not hyperventilate, even with me trying to slow it down, taking nice deep breaths. The sobs are uncontrollable throughout my body, then I start gagging. I empty the contents of my stomach all over the ground in front of me. The only thing running through my head is he doesn't love me anymore.

He moved on!

He won’t forgive me!

He doesn’t love me!

I lost everything!




No, I'll be fine Zoey. You go ahead with Hanger. I'll just hang out here. What the hell is wrong with me? I just opted out of going with my sister to stay in this clubhouse with a man I just met. An insanely hot guy I just met, might I add.

When Zoey came to dinner at Mom and Dad’s tonight, she said that she had someone to introduce me to. I knew that she had just started dating Hanger and he is a biker, the president of this club no less. Hanger is hot, don't get me wrong, in a rough broody tattooed kind of way, but when I thought of bikers, I thought old men. Old, fat, bearded men, but that isn't the case in this clubhouse. Let me tell you, every time you turn around, you come face to face with hot as sin, sex on a stick, all kinds of sexy goodness type of men. But Writer, ohmygod, he is the sexiest of them all. He has this bad boy yet gentle look to him - his short dark brown hair, green soul shattering eyes, defined and chiseled jaw. Oh god, and his tattoos and piercings! I never thought I would be attracted to a tattooed, pierced guy, much less a biker, but here I am with all kinds of thoughts running through my head. Like, Hmm…I wonder where else he is pierced? I see his ears, labret, and tongue when he sticks it out, licking across his bottom lip. I feel heat building down below with thoughts of what he could do to me or how I would like to lick him all over. He's more lean, but I bet he has all kinds of muscle under that white t-shirt and black Sinners cut.

I feel a tap on my thigh, bringing me out of my dirty thoughts. I'm glad you stayed out here with me. You wanna go hang out in my room?

I look at him for a second, not answering, but biting down on my bottom lip with worry.

Do I want to go to his room? Abso-fucking-lutely!

I have to play it cool though. Yeah, I guess that would be okay.

He stands up and holds his hand out to me. I take it, trying to control the shakiness, my nerves are going crazy right now. Writer pulls me up, while keeping ahold of my hand, he leads the way to his room. He pulls out a set of keys then unlocks the door, ushering me inside. I turn to watch as he shuts the door behind him. Oh god, that ass it's perfect in his loose fitting jeans. He turns to me. You can sit on the bed if you want.

Do I want to sit on the bed? Yes, yes I do!

Okay, thank you.

I sit on the edge, kick off my shoes, then cross my legs on the bed. Instead of sitting next to me like I hoped he would, he pulls up his desk chair to sit across from me. I take a moment to look around the room.

It's a small room with a double sized bed, dresser, and a desk sits in here. It doesn't leave much room for anything else, but I guess if you are by yourself then it would be fine. I love the black and red blocked comforter that lays across the mattress, with the red sheets and black pillowcases. Posters of motorcycles and naked women fill his walls. Writer's room is surprisingly clean for a guy. I don’t see dirty clothes strung out everywhere. There's nothing disgusting laying around, no porn that I can see. Maybe he doesn't need porn when he has those underdressed women walking around. For some unknown reason, that makes me kind of jealous.