Chapter 12
DIESEL
I storm through the club, not really sure why I’m so pissed off, but I’m almost certain it has nothing to do with the prospect. Whatever the fuck his name is. The only thing I wanted to do tonight was hang out with the Bastards and get my drink on.
“Hey, what’s your hurry?” Chantel clamps onto my biceps and squeezes. “You didn’t forget my promise, did you?”
“Look, I don’t think . . .” I catch sight of Martina’s bare back in what could only be called a “fuck me dress.” Then I envision the prospect leaning in close to her.
Chantel narrows her eyes, daring me with a look that’ll send me straight to hell.
“Ready to make good on that promise?” I spin Chantel toward the back of the club, and she giggles. Fuck, I hate women who giggle.
I stop at one of the private rooms, nod to the bouncer, and he swipes his card over the key pad. The door pops open.
Just like two weeks ago with Martina. Only she was skittish and kinda timid.
The minute the door closes behind us, Chantel is on me. One hand on my shoulder while the other one pulls the strap of my belt.
“I hope you don’t have any trouble with breaking some rules.” She angles me to the couch, her hand working the tab on my jeans.
Martina’s wide, dark brown eyes replace Chantel’s cold silvery glare.
“‘Cause when it comes to you, I want to break all the rules.”
The Tropics has a strict policy. The private rooms are for lap dances only. No full-on nudity and no fucking. When a customer comes in with a girl, the bouncer remains inside the room, but with a patched member, the rules are waved and the bouncer stays outside.
Tonight, I wish to fuck the bouncer had stayed.
Chantel unties her bikini top, and her massive tits spill out. She throws it aside, then strips off her booty shorts, leaving on the thigh-high boots. Her movements are precise and practiced, making me wonder how many guys enjoyed this show before me.
“Like showing you exactly what I’m working with.” Her naked body straddles me with her knees on each side of my thighs. “Ya know, some of those bitches out there think they’re better than me, but they don’t know shit about what a man likes or wants.”
Her huge nipples are staring me right in the face, but my dick ain’t reacting, which is slightly disturbing.
“Yeah, there ain’t a guy in this place who isn’t hot for me.
” She cups her enormous mounds. “Sometimes they just wanna come on my tits. This one guy last month wanted to squeeze his dick between my ass cheeks. Then last week, I fucked one guy doggie style while I sucked off his friend at the same time.” She grinds over me.
“They came so hard, I had cum dripping outta every hole.” She nods at the door.
“I throw a few bucks at the bouncer, and he stays outside.”
She grinds over me again, but all I can picture is the line of other guys who came before me. Even a condom wouldn’t save me here.
I shift on the leather couch, and she moves with me, definitely getting the wrong idea. She yanks down my zipper, and before she can reach her scary long nails into my pants, I yank her hand away.
“What the fuck?”
I grab her hips and lift her up and off me, dropping her on the couch cushion. “I can’t do this.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
I right my zipper, stand and fix my jeans.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing. It’s just not gonna work.”
She stands with me, then cups my balls. “Baby, believe me, I can get it to work.”
“It works fine, just not with you.” I turn toward the door.
“Don’t you turn your back on me. Do you have any idea what you’re giving up? I got guys lined up for what I’ve got. That’s who I am.”
I spin around so quick, she backs away, her eyes wide.
“I know exactly who you are. A slut who fucks anything for money.”
“You think you’re so high and mighty, panting after that skinny bitch, Martina, but she doesn’t have half what I do.”
I get real close and glare down at her. “First of all, take her name outta your filthy mouth. Second, you’re right—she’s not a whore. And in case you haven’t figured this out yet—you’re fired.”
“What, you can’t fire me?”
I gotta give the bitch credit. I outsize her by about six inches and a hundred pounds, but she won’t back down.
“I can, and I did.” I motion to the door. “So collect your shit and get your skanky ass outta this club.”
Her chest heaves as she throws on her clothes. She heads for the door and turns. “You’ll be sorry you did this.”
“Get the fuck out.”
She slams the door open and storms out.
The bouncer follows her with his eyes, then looks at me. “Everything all right, Boss?”
“From now on, you follow the rules and stay inside this room with the dancers unless you wanna be the next one with their ass at the curb.”
He lowers his eyes. “Right, Boss.”
“Now, close the door and give me a fuckin’ minute.”
He closes the door, and I settle on the couch. Might as well stop fooling myself. Chantel isn’t the problem. I am.
Now I have to explain to Smoke why I fired one of our headliners. Although, after I told him about her extracurricular activities, he’d probably agree. The last thing we needed was getting slapped with a prostitution charge ‘cause that bitch couldn’t keep her snatch on lock down.
I collect myself and leave the private room. I spy Smoke and Blood at their usual table in the back, so I head in that direction. Safe until my eyes rest on Martina at the end of the bar flirting with the same fuckin’ prospect again.
Shit and goddamn, this night is going from bad to worse.
MARTINA
I hold up my margarita glass to Marisol. “I hate to tell you, but these might be better than yours.”
“No, you just like the guy who’s delivering them better.”
I shrug and grip the edge of the bar.
Maxie wiggles her finger in my direction. “Can she possibly be drunk after two margaritas?”
I’m at the end of the bar with Maxie and Marisol in barstools next to me.
It was their idea to move to the bar, after we all witnessed Diesel and Chantel heading for the private rooms behind the stage.
It was also their idea to make sure the amazing Jared with the defined biceps and the killer smile is our exclusive bartender.
“Please tell me Chantel isn’t a Royal Harlot too.”
Maxi and Marisol break up laughing. “That bitch,” Maxie spits out. “No way would we ever let her be part of our sisterhood. She’s never even been in the gym. The only exercise that slut gets is on her back.”
Relief sweeps over me. “So, it’s just people from the fight club?”
“Mostly.” Maxie rests her hand on mine. “But, more importantly, women who are about empowering other women. It’s not about her being a stripper or even how many guys she does; it’s that women like Chantel are only interested in what’s in it for them.”
“The Harlots are the female version of the Royal Bastards,” Marisol adds. “They have chapters in the States, and it was Smoke who told me about it and suggested we get something started down here.”
“Each chapter is different, and a lot of the girls ride too, but when Marisol approached me about it a few months ago, I wanted to include the female fighters.” Maxie runs her finger around the rim of her glass.
“A lot of them, myself included, have unfortunate backstories, and we thought it would be a way of lending support when needed.”
I grip Marisol and Maxie’s hands. “In a few short weeks, you’ve both been there for me, and you’ll never know how it’s appreciated.”
“I could tell from the first few days in the gym, you want something better,” Maxie says. “I also know you’re holding something back, but that’s okay.”
“Just know when you’re ready to talk, we’re here,” Marisol adds.
Their words fill me with hope, and it’s nice to have a feeling of belonging.
“Hmmm,” Marisol looks over my shoulder, “Diesel’s private dance didn’t last too long.”
I shift on the barstool, and she grabs my arm. “Don’t look. He just sat down with Smoke and Blood, and he doesn’t look happy.”
Now I’m dying to look over my shoulder, but I take the advice of the two women way more experienced in outlaw bikers and their moods.
Maxie nods. “More like totally pissed. I’ve seen that look in the gym, and it never ends well.”
I clearly remember Diesel’s eyes the first night I caught him watching me strip.
The heat and desire couldn’t be faked or denied.
Other guys crowded around him, yet he stood out.
Real, raw and totally under my control. I admit, I liked the power.
It invigorated me. Similar to the way his eyes followed me in the gym, like he was memorizing my body and filing it away for a later date.
“What’s he doing now?” I ask, taking another sip of the dangerously good margarita.
“He’s in deep conversation with Smoke and Blood,” Marisol reports. “If only I could read lips.”
I desperately want to clear my mind of the outlaw who knew my brother and did business with my captors. I can’t afford falling down any rabbit hole with a bad-ass biker who could turn my life upside down with the touch of his hand or a night of steamy, sheet gripping, out-of-control sex.
“Can I get you ladies anything else?” Jared interrupts our moment of espionage, jogging me out of my disturbing thoughts and images.
I hold up my glass. “These are really delicious.”
Maxie motions to me. “Keep them coming.”
“No, really,” I protest.
Marisol winks at Jared like they’re in on some private conspiracy.
Jared goes about making these delicious concoctions, and Maxie zones in on Diesel again. “Huh, that’s interesting.”
“What?” I squirm in my seat, but I stay facing her.
“They just called over Ricky, and after some arm flailing and short sentences, Ricky’s heading for the dressing room.” Maxie throws me a devilish grin. “Diesel’s staring at your back, and honestly I’m surprised your dress hasn’t combusted.”
Jared returns with yet another margarita, removes my empty glass, then waits until I take a sip of the newly made drink.
“Perfection.”
I reach over the bar and cover his hand with mine. “You’re perfection too.”
Maxie chuckles behind me, but I forge on, boosted by sisterhood and two and a half margaritas. “I can’t believe we’ve never met before.”
“That’s because you live like a hermit and never leave your room,” Maxie chimes in.
“I’m glad you decided to leave your room tonight.” Jared flashes one of his award-winning smiles.
“Me too.”
“We close the bar at two, and I know an after-hours place we could go.”
“I don’t know.” Even though the drinks have filled me with invincibility, I still have to meet up with Eduardo later, and I have no intention of screwing that up.
“I’m sure by the end of the night, she’ll change her mind,” Maxie pipes up.
I take another sip of this delicious potion, and my earlier anxiety is replaced with a warmth and empowerment that I could do anything.
Diesel taking that bitch Chantel to the private rooms—who cares?
Diesel staring at me, not fifteen feet away—who cares?
Diesel totally ignoring me—fuck him.
In another time or place, maybe I would’ve cared, or at least had the option to care, but not here and certainly not now when my future hangs just out of reach.