26
“Hot damn, that’s a fine piece of ass.” The comment boomed out of the biker standing behind Stanton, at the clubhouse. He seethed with possessiveness. Sammi was his. He was the man who split her open earlier that day, withdrawing his c**k smeared in her juices, like the traces of lipstick on his d**k when she deep-throated him. The fucker was begging for a broken nose if he kept talking about Sammi like that.
Stanton was already more irritable than usual, since his conversation with his father, but he had every intention of behaving. Unfortunately, almost upon arrival, the men lobbed taunts and tests at him like it was open hunting season. The last time this had occurred to him was when he pledged for his father’s fraternity his first semester at Yale. A few fraternity brothers tried
