Hello everyone! This is just going to be a short story that was created under the influence of wine. It gave me the courage to publish it. I would really like to hear thoughts, opinions, criticism etc etc. English is not my first language so I would absolutely love if you told me if you see mistakes or areas of improvement etc. Anywhoo you're not here to read author notes, so enjoy!

He felt hot, burning with a slow simmering fever just under his skin. A fever scorching him with need. The sun shining didn't help him either; instead it just fueled his nerve endings with warmth. A warmth that was driving him to cool it. He didn't know if he wanted to drown himself in whiskey or in a hot, wet mouth. Hands desperately clawing at her hair whilst driving himself deep down in someone's throat. Dominating her. Her. That's who he craved, the one who could apply cold to his achy, sensitive, scorching skin. He would never admit it but he craved her, needed her at the utmost base level of his conscious.

As he entered the clubhouse he made his way straight to the bar and downed a shot of whiskey in hope of dampening this unfamiliar desire that had taken hold over him. It had been two weeks since he saw her, the run taking longer time than expected. And it had been even longer since he had touched her. Fuck, he hadn't even really touched. Just a kiss. One fucking kiss and he was hooked. Burning away for her. And he hated her, hated her for making him feel, for making him wanting her. But oh how he wanted her, hard and fast. Skin slapping on skin while he restrained her hands from touching him. Punishing her for the desire she induced in him.

The glass made a clanking noise as he slammed it down on the bar. Filling up the shot glass again he grunted at Tig and Bobby who tried to include him in some form of conversation but he couldn't care. His brain was flashing images of a small, naked, blond temptress that had taken over his mind. Lame excuses flickered to life and died trying to come up with an excuse to go see her. Fuck it, he thought. Slamming down another shot he looked up, a crow eater would have to do for now.

That's when he saw her. He blinked hard, making sure she wasn't some sort of mirage made up by his mad cravings and over active mind. Real. She was real, standing at the end of the bar talking to Lyla. He could her Lyla thanking her, must have been watching the kids his head reasoned.

It was ironic really that she was the kind of woman that made him just plain needful. And he couldn't stand it. He was supposed to be a monster, a killer. Although he was a brother in the club, the family, he stood out. The violence he was willing to dole out, the perverse joy he felt over a kill, the quiet rage that seeped out of him made him different. Alone. And that's the way he liked it. But her, she had turned his world on its axis. He was a man who took, forceful and without thought. But she had changed that, for her he would beg. Plead like a pauper for a taste, a caress, for her. And she was nothing like he had expected. There was no leather and high heels. No chains and whips to bind him down and torment him. No instead it was a slip of a girl that had made him a prisoner of his own desire. And he was baffled how she had done it, wormed her way into his unconsciousness.

He studied her intently as she stood laughing with Lyla. Small, the top of her head didn't even reach his shoulders. With blond, slightly curly her that always flowed down her back. Slim, and as he remembered with hipbones that perfectly cut into his hands as he gripped them, pressing his thumbs into the taut stomach above. Perky breasts that taunted him and a small round ass. And she was beautiful, so fucking beautiful it sometimes hurt when he looked at her. But he couldn't help; if she was around he had to look. And right now he drank her in like a parched man.

And it was as she could feel his stare because she turned around and looked straight at him. Glittering eyes sought his as she started to make her way over to him. And it was that face, all plump limps and pale blue eyes that cut him to the wick. Made his heart strings tug because she was simply that feminine beauty that he couldn't resist. Soft but regal, she was such a surprise to him. Always flowing floor length skirts, with a loose fitting top. Today matched with flat, brown leather sandals and several bracelets jingling around her thin wrists. And flowers, she had fucking flowers in her hair. Like a modern day hippie.

Her eyes slowly perused him, from his dusty boots to the top of his head and the lick of her lips started the blood to sizzle in his veins. Her soft, airy voice reached his ears as she greeted them with a simple "gentlemen".

He didn't hear what Bobby and Tig answered nor did he really care. Words were superfluous as a growl started to hum in his chest. He had seen the looks on their faces and they were not allowed. She was his and his alone. But the rumbling of his chest quickly abated as her fingers slid along his hand that gripped the shot glass. His breath caught as he could feel the fine hairs on his arm stand up as she gripped his hand and turned towards him.

She didn't care that Bobby and Tig could hear and see what she was about to do. She hadn't seen him for a fortnight and that stare of his had started desire rolling in her body. Gripping his hand tightly she looked him squarely in the eyes and said "I missed you". Then to really drive the message home she bumped her lower body against his. God did she want him. The long fingers gripped in her hand would feel magic on her body, inside her body.

He briefly wondered if she could feel his hardening cock when she pressed her pelvis against his but that thought quickly faded away when he caught on to her meaning. Fuuuck yes. She wanted him. Grabbing a handful of material he pulled her body closer with a forceful tug. Her small body slamming into his, forced tightly up against him. Her breast pressed against his chest, and her quickened breathing making them rub up and down him. He could feel the heat from them, caressing him through the thin material of his shirt.

He angled his head down, intending to take her in a bruising kiss but she had other plans. Grabbing the shot glass from his hand she raised it slowly to her lips, eyes meeting his over the rim. Licking her lips as she put the glass down. His gaze was locked on her mouth, the tongue that peaked out, gliding along the bottom lip slightly coating it with saliva. Rising up on her toes she leaned forward, dragging her lips across his jaw. And he could feel the wetness getting transferred to his jawbone. Tightening his fist he drew in a quick deep breath. Control. Fighting for control when all he wanted to do was slam her on top of the bar and fuck and fuck and fuck her like an animal.

Her mouth had now reached his ear and her warm breath hitting him in such a sensitive area caused him to tense his shoulder in order to fight a shiver. She probably knew anyway but he couldn't let her really know. Know that she dominated him in every sense, overthrew his whole persona until the only thing that existed was that throbbing need that she created in him. Another quick breath, control.

He caught a whispered breath against his ear "Happy". His name dragged out like a breathless whisper. His hands flew to her hips and gripped her hard, his control slowly slipping away as his blood started rushing downwards. He felt her shiver at his touch, a quick breath against his ear another breathless "Haappy". She then tilted her head, and left an open mouth kiss on his neck, just below his ear. His skin was soft and she craved more. He tasted slightly salty and dusty from the road, like man.

Her tongue against his neck was so feather light that he wasn't sure if he imagined it or not. But it teased the area where the kiss had landed and the goosebumps that followed in its wake were real. He was fully erect now and hard. Straining towards her, craving to be touched. That was the power she had over him. One kiss and she had turned him into quivering heap of desire. Molten lava running though him.

He dragged her hips towards him, intending to rub her against him. Creating that wonderful friction. But once again she eluded him, twisting her hips away. Her hand had somehow snaked itself to the back of his head and pulling it down she ran her tongue against the shell of his ear.

She spoke again, her usually airy, breathy voice had changed. Changed into something headier, potent with promise. "I want to fuck you". Her hand tightened, nails slightly digging in his scalp. Her words and the slight pain only racketing up his desire. "You make me so wet". A panting breath against him. "I've thought about you so much, you fingers, your mouth and your hard, big dick". Her mouth closed around his earlobe, teeth gently biting the skin and his hands tightened his grip even more. Hard enough to leave bruises. "I think bout you when I touch myself" she continued to whisper to him. "And you make me come so hard without even being there. Fuuuck Happy, I want you. I am so wet for you, right now. Fuck me."

He groaned. He was throbbing. Pleasure coursing through his body at her words. One hand drifted down from her hip to grab her ass in a hard, tight grip. Making her once again stand on her toes. The other hand had made its way into her hair, seizing a fist full over hair and pulling. Stretching and angling her neck and head, controlling, as he leaned down. And this time she couldn't escape as his lips sought hers.

Thank you for reading! If I continue this story it is only going to be a few chapters long. Just a quick glimpse of the relationship between Happy and the nameless (for now) OC. Please leave a comment as you see fit! Thanks for reading again :)