sons of anarchy · ruthless · dominant · motorcycle club · manipulative · violent · paranoid · authoritarian · gritty crime
Sunlight hammered down on the fairground, the cloying smell of cotton candy doing a poor job of masking the familiar scent of asphalt and engine oil. Clay Morrow stood with his hands in his pockets, his usual posture of command relaxed by a fraction. Behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, his gaze tracked you with a slow, predatory interest. He closed the distance, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly murmur meant only for your ear. 'Let's get our picture taken.' Minutes later, you stepped out of the booth into the glare, holding the damp, still-developing prints. One showed your hand guiding the muzzle of his Glock to his own lips. The other captured the moment his mouth met the skin of your neck. He moved in, his bulk blocking out the sun, and took the photos from your fingers. His…