5. Ghost

Women are strange creatures. That's something I've known my whole life. That's the main reason I'm fully dressed, looking down at a very naked woman, and not really wanting to leave. Last night was good. Fuck, it had been better than good. The woman gave her body with an eagerness and a joy that I could taste in every fucking kiss. She's a hell of a woman. I look around the room, finding a stack of sheets on one of her recliners. I guess she was going to make the bed before we used it last night—not that you can call it a bed.

I grab one, then spread it over her naked body. She stirs for a moment, making a small mewling noise before settling back down. I wore her out last night and the memory of it is enough to bring a smile to my lips. Before leaving, I take one last moment to look at her. Her dark hair spreads against the white sheet and there's something about it that is just perfection. Long lashes brush against her pale skin. Despite not knowing her damn name, I know every inch of her body. I know what it feels like to be deep inside her, with her tight cunt milking my cock. I know the sounds she makes when she's close to climax, and I definitely know how she begs for more when you give her just a sting of pain—whether it be by pulling her hair, spanking that sweet ass, or biting down on her taunt nipple. That's information that I won't forget for a long time. It might just haunt me.

Walking over to the front door, I frown as I look around the place once more. It seems wrong that she lives here. She deserves an actual bed. Hell, she deserves something better than a two-room, outdated apartment. I shake my head at my foolishness. As I leave, I give her one final look, then lock the door behind me. I got shit to do today, and this was just a quick fuck. It meant nothing. I have no reason to believe she'd be different from any other woman I've known. She might have liked my dick last night, but that's all she's getting. If Millie taught me nothing, she taught me not to put myself out there anymore. I don't need a woman. I need peace. That's the reason I'm in Phoenix to begin with.

I make it to my bike and hop on. Just before I go to start it up, my cell rings. I pull it out of my pocket, looking down at the caller ID. I frown right before I answer it.

"Yo," I mutter.

"Hey, can you meet me at Ivan's?"

I grunt, only to hear E-Z's laugh.

"I know it's really fucking early to deal with the asshole. He's got a slight problem he needs our help with, though.

"What kind of problem?"

"It has to do with a woman," E-Z answers.

I snort. "It always does."

"Brother, you don't lie," he laughs.

"What time?"

"Can you be there in an hour? I need to drop Liberty off at her friend LeAnn's, then I'll head that way."

"I'll be there," I answer and hang up without waiting for a reply.

Putting my phone away, I shake my head. This is yet another reminder that I should never get involved with a woman beyond fucking. They manage to twist you inside out. It just comes naturally to them. If a bastard as mean as Ivan Levkin can get his shit fucked up over a woman, it just goes to show the power of a pussy. It makes a man lose his mind. That's not me—not any longer.

An image of the woman I left on the pull-out sofa upstairs drifts through my mind, and I push it away. She was a good way to spend the night. If she wants my dick again, I'll give it to her. I'm not getting involved, though. She's just trolling, looking for a club dick. She never seemed the type, but apparently the girl aspires to be an old lady. That's the only explanation as to why she warmed my bed last night. She'll soon find out she's barking up the wrong tree. She probably won't bother me again. If she does, I need a game plan. Maybe I'll see if she's willing to play with two club members. I don't enjoy sharing. It might kill me, but I'd do it to get rid of her. I must protect the peace I have here, and she's the first girl who might threaten that. I could ask Iron …

Shaking my head, I push those thoughts away. I'm being an idiot. It was just a night of sex. What the fuck is wrong with me? Millie's stunt has poisoned my fucking brain. I need to get over it. Christ, I'm like a damn train wreck. Marcum would have a field day with me. I miss that son of a bitch. I probably need to call the asshole. It has been too long.

With that thought, I start my bike. I got shit I need to do—not obsess over a woman who would probably slap the fuck out of me if she knew what I was thinking.