Page 121 of Dirty Salvation

“Sweet baby. Stop talkin’ now, you’ll figure out the groupies in your own time. But you talked about hittin' my dick and now you gotta keep your word. Climb on..I'm fuckin' addicted to being raw inside your pussy, wanna get you wetter until it feels like I’m fuckin’ warm butter.” his smirk was so lewd and held a lot of promise for dirty things Zara laughed out loud smacking him.

“You’re disgusting, Rider. “

“I am. Now get the fuck on my cock and gimme it hard. Show me how an old lady owns me. It’s you I want bouncin’ on me.”

Of course, she showed him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“Fuck my troubles away...“ – Hawk

“What’s got you on edge? More than normal, anyway? You’ve been MIA for more than a day, the same last week and Snake threw a clear insult in church and you left him with his head.”

Hawk paused wrapping tape around his hands, caught the glance from Rider before his head cranked down to continue winding the tape ignoring the curious look from his best friend and president.

Around and around he covered his hands in the white tape, tight over his knuckles, wound hard near the thumb so he could pull the gloves on over it. Hawk never minded getting his body busted up, he welcomed the pain sometimes, but this was just sparring. No point in getting broken if he could avoid it.

Five days after Gia had left the compound and he was still strung out like a junkie jonesing for the needle straight to the femoral artery.

“Nada.” He spoke finally, grabbing one of the black gloves he shoved his hand inside, followed suit with its mate.

“Bullshit, Hawk.”

His shoulder rolled. “I let Snake off this time. Not in the mood for his humor.”

“Exactly. So, what the fuck is up? Do you need to take off for a while, is it that time again?”

That time again.He felt like shit that Rider had a term for his fucking neurosis.

Stillness.

The air thinned out as Hawk’s lungs hesitated for a second then kick started again.

He made his body move. To act normal.Whatever that fucking meant.

Striding his long legs over to the punching bags hung from the ceiling by thick chains he gave it a push first. The bag weighed close to two hundred pounds, a fair opponent for the rage that lived within Hawk. He swung once more, gentle, testing it out, found his rhythm four punches later making the bag swing with every hard swipe of his fist.

Rider joined him a minute later. Praying he'd let it drop. Rider was a fucking bulldog with certain crap. Side by side the two friends worked-out on the bags and Hawk thought Rider had thank-fuck-fully dropped the subject until.

“Do you need to get away, Hawk? It’s not good fuckin’ time, but we can spare you if that’s what you gotta do.”

Get away.

A polite way for the president to say he thought Hawk was losing his shit again and he should take time off to go fuck and beat someone up until he was back to normal.

Normal. What the fuckwasthat anyway? He'd once known a bunch of people who per society were normal when in fact they were the devil himself in disguise.

At least he was only a highly functioning monster.

But as he took a side glance at Rider, those penetrating blue eyes trained on him, he was holding the bag with one arm, leaning into it as he surveyed Hawk, he felt his belly coil tight and painful, bile rushing up his oesophagus.

That’s what normal looked like.Riderwas a normal guy.If only.

He had the little girl now didn’t he, making his life even more normal. Nice.

Hawk didn’t know what nice felt like. He was too fucked up in his own mind to even try to achieve nice and normal and not with...her.

Neverwith her.