Clint Barton Novels & Stories

As Billy’s voluptuous, naked stepmother gave them all another beer, Clint suddenly leapt to his feet, whooping for joy. “Touchdown Dallas baby!” he cried out, pointing gleefully at the television. The other three guys seemed a little surprised by his outburst. Clint turned to Sharon, “Get over here and start sucking bitch,” he told her. “Time for my reward this time.” Sharon’s expression blackened a little, despite the submissive role she had found herself in she didn’t appreciate Clint calling her names. “That’s true Mom, you have to reward him,” said Billy with a laugh before Sharon could complain.

' Damon growled, clenching his fists as he thought of his father. 'Ugh… All this thinking is making me feel anxious and I hate feeling that way. I need to go to the club and drink my heart out. I need to think deeply if I seriously love Zach.' "Take me to the club" He instructed his driver. About 20 minutes later, they arrived at the clubhouse. The club is jammed-packed as always. There’s a long line of people especially men desperately wanting to see the strippers and get lucky with one of them. He also instructed Zach not to follow him! Of course accompanied with a threat or two.

Yeah, he was screwed because his dick suddenly liked the club. Clint Eastwood was on his own. Shiloh smiled at him and gave him a once over. His shoulder length hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, the sides and back of his head, along with his scruff were all at least one day past needing a trim. Working in the fab shop as both a welder and forger kept him in shape and the tight light gray t-shirt showed off his muscles. Pagan smiled back at her as he placed his beer on the table. “Hi. Love the hair.”

The sky was darkening and the air was starting to cool off. “Luna Kristen. It’s good to see you.” One of my dad’s warriors stepped out. His daughter was in my class. His name was Clint and was still one hell of a warrior. “Hey, how are you?” I asked as I got close to him but stopped when I was within arms reach. “I am doing well, I should be asking you that question.” Clint had a sympathetic look on his face. “You know me, stubborn as hell and refuse to accept help.” I joked.

said a restrained, subdued Bart sometime later. I looked to the right of me and there he was, even more dashing than yesterday when he had come to pick me up. Bart, all 6'6" of him, standing tall in his tux. His athletic build combined with his stature could not but overwhelm. Although I knew from the very few words he had spared me up until now that he was only nineteen, he hardly looked it. Hardly sounded it as he took call after call on the drive to Caines.

"Last time I let things go because the team asked me to. I accommodated that. I won't be accommodating anything after tonight." "I just—" Claire's voice fractures. "I just like you, that's all I ever—" "Stop using that sentence." Something shifts in his expression—not anger anymore, something closer to exhaustion with a hard edge. "It doesn't explain anything. It doesn't excuse anything. And frankly, it makes this worse." He looks at Clayton. Clayton has been holding his hand over the mark on his cheek, which is still clearly visible and will be more so tomorrow. "She hit me first. You saw the state she was in—you really think someone that drunk could—"

B, " No, no sir, I was likewise surprised that you two know each other, but I believe this will make things easier since he's familiar with you ". Christian sighed like he had no choice, he couldn't order Bree. B to get a new temporary chief cause she had to go see her daughter that just given birth, and her son was also getting married. He dismissed her sighing frustratedly, he knows the old man so well and he is always a pain in the neck, Mr. Clinton is like an uncle he grew up with and the one who can tame him.

Clint started to talk, but I cut him off. I grabbed his throat and pulled him out of the chair. Clint’s a smaller guy. Honestly, he should hit the gym more. Clint should also be smarter and have a better sense of self-preservation than piss me off. His dad might be a vampire, but he has no powers and is as breakable as a human. It’s ridiculous that he’d look down on Pam or anyone for being human. “I don’t know what your problem with Pam is, but knock it the fuck off. You’re half-human. It would be best if you didn’t look down on humans. None of us should.” I snarled.

Carter said, pretending to pout his lips “let the woman live a little” “With the number of men who are here, having their eyes on her? I would rather not get into fights with anyone, thank you” Nathan said, taking the glass from Carter. He looked at the bartender, nodding at him to come “get the beautiful lady a glass of virgin mojito” “I tried, little one” Carter said, shrugging his shoulders. He took a sip of his whiskey, his eyes following Nathan’s gaze at the two Italians who just annoyed him “did they say anything wrong?”

He stepped into a sparsely crowded bar, seeking a little anonymity and a place to think. Seated at the counter, he ordered a shot of whiskey and looked around, trying not to dwell on the crushing weight of his debts and threats. As he observed the few patrons, the bar door opened and a man walked in, immediately catching Clayton’s attention. It was someone he knew from the underworld—someone who might have answers, or at least a new perspective. The man approached and sat down beside him, recognizing him at once. “Clayton Houston. It’s been a while,” the man said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Looks like you’re in trouble.”