Hey all, thanks for the comment, favorites, and follows. You inspire me greatly. Catina is portrayed by Michelle Trachtenberg, for anyone whose curious. Please enjoy and review.
Catina's limbs felt as though they were made of lead when she awoke the next morning. It took a moment for it to register where she was. She wasn't used to scratchy sheets on a hard mattress, nor was she accustomed to small shampoos filling a sterile bathroom. Charming's Vagabond Inn was no Hilton, but it was a place to stay and an inconspicuous one at that. Catina didn't mind the dingy carpeting and gaudy picture frames so much as she minded the noise from the next room. "
Ooooh, god, yes, fuck me, yeah." the voice thundered in the room, disturbing Catina's once sound sleep. She looked to the alarm by her bed and sighed. 4:36 A.M blinked in red.
"Shit, yeah, right there. Oh, right there, baby, fuck." Catina rolled her eyes and sat up in bed, pulling a slouchy tee over her head before pulling her hair from the confines of the collar. She pulled on a pair of yoga pants and slipped her house shoes onto her feet. Once she fished a pack of cigarettes from her purse, Catina made her way outside, shoving a cancer stick between her lips and struck a match. She ignited the end of her stoge with the flame and inhaled. "Fuck! OH GOD, YES!" The exhale was followed by a throaty laugh. Catina never ceased to be amused by the over-the-top bitches guys fell in bed with. She mewled and moaned like the next girl, but never once did she talk dirty or scream bloody fucking murder. Halfway through her cigarette was a masculine roar, and soon after the hinges of a door squeaking.
Figuring it was none of her business who'd been fucked so viciously, Catina kept her back turned, and proceeded to smoke her menthol. "Get out of here, you're a fucking disaster." Catina smirked with smoke tumbling past her lips. She stubbed her fag out and turned around, coming damn near face-to-face with a scraggly man in his forties. Quirking a brow, Catina stepped forward, showing no fear or sign of being intimidated.
"You're pretty, doll," the man breathed, his mouth reeking of cigarettes, whisky, and pussy. Catina grinned. "And you smell damn good."
Her oceanic blue eyes scanned over the man in front of her, drinking in his appearance. A mop of raven curls, cyclone eyes, mustache, white tee, blue jeans, still unzipped, a pair of black Docs. His hands were donned with rings on several fingers, all big and somewhat gaudy. Catina's eyes flickered with distaste as he advanced forward, cocking his head until it was beside bucked his hips against hers, letting her feel the arousal that had built in his pants within the last thirty seconds. She rolled her eyes up to meet his and scowled, drawing back her shoulder before shoving it into his, taking him off guard just enough for her to get away.
Blue eyed slice was something, he'd give her that. The way her fuck-me mouth drew into a frown had him hard. Tig loved the fact that she was ballsy enough to brush him off. She was new, without a doubt, and had yet to learn her place. Tig lit himself a cigarette, because nothing in the world was better than a post-coital smoke, in his eyes.
He walked back into his hotel room, a bit disappointed to be empty handed. Tig grabbed his handcuffs from the bedside table and latched them onto his pants, not without thinking about Bright Eye's slim wrists bound by metal. His cock throbbed as he did so, and he grumbled incoherently about it. He rushed down the concrete stairs, mounted his bike and raced off into the distance, awaiting a warm mouth to stick his dick in.
Never had Catina been more grateful in her life than when she stepped under the pathetic, luke-warm drizzle that was her shower. It was the morning, now, and not an obscure hour. It was around eleven thirty, and Catina had risen with the bright light of the late morning as it peaked through the slats of her blinds. She washed herself with sandalwood-rose body wash and shampooed her hair with sweet almond scented suds. She ran the razor over her skin, shedding herself of all hair that sprouted from her otherwise milky skin. Once satisfied with her cleanliness, Catina exited the bathroom, towel secured around her slender frame and sat down on bed beside her outfit.
A pair of shorts that couldn't be described as anything other than black hot pants found their way snug onto her hips, buttoning just above her bellybutton. The shorts reached just past mid thigh and the waistline hugged her tiny waist beautifully. Her white ruffled top accentuated what curves she had, and in the center of her v-cut collar sat a silver abraxas necklace that she hadn't taken off in over two years. Catina's hair was long and wild with honey-brown waves that tumbled to the center of her back. Her makeup was subtle, neutral and pretty eye makeup with a coral lip gloss. Catina slipped on a pair of black wedge-heeled booties with a bit of fringe on the outer edges.
The heat rolled over her as soon as she opened the door, making Catina frown deeply. Ireland didn't have this type of heat. With her purse at her side and a serious lack of skip in her step, Catina made her way down the stairs and walked toward the center of town. Joseph had told her the basics of the town on their car ride.
The women here kept their eyes down and their heads high, and for good reason; the borders of the city were within spitting distance of each other; and most importantly, the town was run by Sons of Anarchy, Redwood Original. They weren't to be fucked with, period. Catina took that to heart, considering her predicament. The first two she could see, but there wasn't a kutte in sight, which made her a bit uneasy, if she was honest. Catina was a firm believer in one percenters and the authority they had. They were the real governors and presidents of the world. Without cartels, MC's, and gangs, the world would be wildly boring or out of control, and either scenario scared her shitless.
It wasn't until she was in Thrifty's that she noticed anyone who looked even remotely affiliated with the infamous SAMCRO. Walking through the aisles, basket in hand, she noticed a leather clad woman in bitch heels, dark makeup and highlighted hair that put celebrities to shame. The woman stared hard at the bargain brand pacifiers and the Gerber's. Catina stood and watched, eyebrows raised as she reached for one brand, before going to the other time and time again. Biker bitch looked angry, too, like she was stuck in a moral dilemma.
"C'mon, Gem, it's a goddamn pacifier." a familiar grumbling voice sounded down the aisle. "Yeah, yeah," the Gem woman waved him off with a well manicured hand before saying in a beautifully husky voice, "My grandbaby deserves the best." Catina recognized the messy of wiry hair immediately. She knew those hypnotically disturbed baby blues from earlier that day. Catina smiled and held her head high,and refused to allow herself walk in the other direction as she so much desired.
"Whatchya lookin' at-for fuck's sake, Tigger, can you keep it in your pants for a second?"
Tig's eyes didn't leave her from the second she walked down that aisle, narrow hips swinging confidently, as though she had an ass on that slender frame. There was no mistaking her body was nice, firm and fit, but it was something about the ferocity of her eyes and her cool demeanor that made his dick twitch with anticipation. Something in the way she moved and remained silent and strong, even through his harassment that made him want her so. Take two. Tig approached her, hand flying to her face to swipe the strand of hair caught in her long lashes immediately. She didn't flinch.
"You owe me a date, doll. We can skip the dinner and movie, and go right to where we left off before you gave me blue balls."
A stifled laugh fell from her full lips, and she looked down with a coy that he mistook for nervous. When she looked back up, her eyes were hard and cold and beautifully blue. It took Tig off guard to see a woman so fragile looking have such a fury in her eyes.
"Thanks, love, really," her voice was thickly accented, Irish, maybe Scottish, but something of that sort for sure. "But I'll have to pass." After her sufficiently awkward encounter with that 'Tiggy' character, Catina checked out and went back to her motel room, and pulled out her prepaid.