SBMC Miami Box set

by Erin Trejo

  “Well, I was out with Brian and that shit head decided to overdose on me. Then, Megan and her hoard of goons showed up. Can you believe that bitch tried to have one of her goons come after me? I almost lost my shit and went all Chuck Norris on their asses.” Jackson laughs before kissing the top of my head.

  “Sounds like you had a fun night,” he sighs.

  “That wasn’t even the best part of it.”

  “Oh, do tell, Miss Slutty McSlut,” I throw my arm over Jackson’s chest and hold him close.

  “I ran from goon one and ran right into some hot piece of ass behind Joe’s Bar,” I tell him as I inhale his scent.

  “Are you smelling me, ho?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re fucked up.”

  “No, I’m not. I like how you smell, Jack.” We both crack up laughing.

  “Did you fuck said hot piece of ass?” Jackson asks while tickling my side. I giggle and nod. “That explains why you’re all sunshine and flowers instead of death and daggers.”

  “Damn right. Just look at my back,” I squeal before rolling over and throwing my shirt off. The bed shifts and dips as Jackson moves. His fingers run over my skin igniting bumps and heat everywhere they go.

  “Damn, he must’ve fucked you good,” he whispers. Jackson leans down and kisses the scrapes on my back causing me to moan out loud.

  “You want your turn?” I ask him playfully.

  “No, you have to go to work. When you get home though? That ass is mine,” he says before slapping my ass roughly. I groan and roll over before getting out of bed. Digging through my closet, I grab clothes and head to the bathroom.

  When I look at myself in the mirror, I’m shocked at the girl that’s looking back at me. I wasn’t always this kind of girl. I was smart, went to school, and I made good grades; I even had plans for college. My family didn’t like the guy I was dating. He hit me. He hit me a lot. Not so much different than my real father, who took off when I was ten. Mom remarried and Sam became my new daddy. He was strict with me, but not with my sister, it always made me wonder why. By the time I turned sixteen I was totally uncontrollable. I met Darrick and was instantly in love. Whatever the fuck that was for a sixteen-year-old. I blame him for everything, even though he didn’t force me to be what I am now. He was the one that introduced me to the drugs that I now crave as well as the sex I absolutely cannot live without.

  Sighing to myself, I climb in the shower and let the warm water run over me. It doesn’t take long for Jackson to join me.

  “What are you doing?” I ask over my shoulder like I’m upset he’s in here with me.

  “Shut up, Whit. I need a shower too,” he says grabbing the shampoo and squirting it into his hands. He grabs my hair, yanking it so I’m forced to turn away from him. Gently, he massages the shampoo into my hair. I moan and groan just enjoying the feeling of him washing my hair.

  “You’re going to have an orgasm if I keep doing this,” he teases me. I smile and laugh.

  “It feels so good. You know I love when someone plays with my hair. I could fall asleep right now and never wake up,” Jackson chuckles and shoves me back under the water. I close my eyes tightly so the soapy water doesn’t burn them. When I’m all rinsed off, Jackson pulls me into his arms.

  “Pete called earlier,” he says. His fingers continue to massage my shoulders now.

  “What the hell did he want? You better not be fucking him again Jackson! I swear to all that’s fucking holy that I will never blow you again if you get back with him,” I warn him. Jackson just laughs.

  “I told him to fuck off.”

  “You totally did not. You never tell him to fuck off. You like to keep that fucker on a leash. Come on, tell the truth.”

  “Okay, I didn’t tell him to fuck off, but I did tell him we aren’t getting back together. I’ve decided I’m into pussy this week,” he says making me laugh. Jackson is bisexual. I’m not sure he truly knows which sex he likes better. Some weeks he won’t touch a man, and others he can’t seem to get enough of them.

  “Good. He’s a dick.”

  “He has a huge dick,” he corrects me.

  “Not from what I hear coming from your room.”

  “And what exactly do you hear?”

  “Not my name, so I know it’s not very fucking good.” We both crack up before I climb out and get dressed. Slipping into my cut off shorts, crop top, and knee-high boots I step in front of the mirror. I reach up and wipe the steam from the glass before tying my hair up on the top of my head. Jackson starts singing in the shower, which makes me smile. I throw on some makeup, then reach over and flush the toilet before I leave the bathroom.

  “Goddamn it Whitley… you’re going to pay for that shit!” Jackson yells at me.

  “I hope you make it good!” I yell back before I head out the door.

  Chapter 5

  Mason

  Viking laughs, tipping the beer bottle up to his lips as I pull the trigger once more. If I wasn’t such a bastard, this wouldn’t be as funny as it is.

  “Do it again,” Viking encourages me. Shaking my head, I raise my gun and fire one more time. Watching the prospect jump around so he doesn’t get hit with one of the bullets, is just a little bit amusing. The dumb fucker shot himself not even a month ago. This is just our little way to fuck with him. If you can’t clean your gun, you sure as shit don’t need to shoot one.

  “That motherfucker needs to go,” I mumble as I bring my beer to my lips.

  “He does. I was thinkin’ of callin’ a vote, bringin’ it to church. What do you think?” I turn my head and look at Prez while giving him a shrug.

  “He’s pretty fun to play with,” Viking laughs.

  “I was thinkin’ about that load comin’ in from Columbia. Nathan, from port authority called and he’s got shit wrapped up for a few days. I wanna move it out as quickly as possible. Last time we held onto it the damn Narcs almost caught wind of it. You think we can get Wild Style to move it for us?” he asks. I nod my head and watch as the prospect picks up trash stuffing it into a bag.

  “Don’t see why not. Mac’s always lookin’ to move powder. He’s got some shit set up with the college boys. Motherfucker’s got an in with all those high-class users,” I tell him with a chuckle.

  “Fuck, maybe we’re in the wrong line, brother? We need to move in on the rich folks,” Viking laughs.

  “Heard that. Mac seems to do pretty well with that shit.” I lay my head back and let the hot Miami sun beat down on my face. I thought about leaving; about getting the hell out of here and maybe heading to another chapter. California with the Soulless Bastards wouldn’t be a bad place. Hell, Chicago wouldn’t be bad either, but I don’t like the fucking cold. I could never leave my boys though. They mean the world to me and even when I’m falling apart, they seem to know how to hold me together. Well, for the most part anyways.

  “You good for the run, man?” Viking turns his head to look at me as he asks. I nod.

  “Yeah, I’m runnin’ by Joe’s later to check in with him. I know he’s got some new bitches workin’ there, and I wanna make sure there won’t be any problems with him holdin’ for us,” I tell him.

  “New bitches? What happened to the old bitches?”

  “That’s what they were brother, old. Supposedly, he has some young ones now. Probably so fuckin’ doped up they wouldn’t even notice how much shit we store in there.” Viking curses under his breath before shoving out of his chair.

  “That shit right there isn’t good, brother. When they’re fucked out of their minds on your shit, they always seem to want just a little more. Hope to hell Joe knows what the fuck he’s doin’ with them,” he snaps before walking toward the clubhouse. I let that play out in my head. He’s right about that part. When they use, they tend to keep using. Not that I give a shit that the bartenders are fucked out of their minds, as long as they can serve a drink and know when enough is enough. That’s all I care about.

  Shoving out of m
y chair, I turn and head toward the clubhouse behind Viking. As soon as I step inside, it feels like home, I’m home. Of course, I haven’t known what home feels like in a very long fucking time. Six years to be exact. My home jumped off a goddamn bridge and left me to pick up the shattered pieces of my black heart. I’m still not whole and I sure as shit haven’t moved on from her death. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to move on from it, don’t think I fucking know how to.

  “You ridin’?” Axle asks as I reach for another beer. I cut my eyes at him and give him the are you fucking shitting me look. “Damn you’re moody today, motherfucker. You need your dick sucked?”

  “Not if you’re the one doin’ the suckin’ asshole,” I snap at him. Axle laughs before coming around the bar.

  “What’s up? What the fuck is goin’ on in that head of yours today?”

  “What’s not wrong in my head every goddamn day?”

  “Good point.”

  I shake my head and smirk as he walks away. Popping the top of my beer, I take a long pull before I glance around. I wonder where the hell Ink ran off to. That motherfucker is like a ghost. Here one minute, gone the next. Spotting one of the girls I holler at her, “Hey Ginger, you seen Ink?” She turns her head, flipping her long red hair over her shoulder.

  “Nope. He was just here a minute ago. Bastard probably ran off after a piece of ass,” she giggles. I nod my head and glance around once more. I guess he isn’t going with us tonight. I finish off my beer and toss the bottle into the trash as I head out the door.

  I need to check in with Joe before I can head out. Joe owns a bar not too far from here. He has a huge ass stock room that he doesn’t use, so we do. We pay him very fucking well for the use of that room to store our shit in until we can distribute it. Joe’s always been good to us and we have the local police in our pocket too, so he won’t get caught during any inspections. I yawn as I step outside and take a deep breath. The sun will be setting soon, and the night life will be coming out. Miami is a damn good place to live.

  Chapter 6

  Whitley

  “What do you want? I don’t have all night for you, pretty boy,” I snap at the little college boy sitting in front of me. He’s done nothing but stare at my tits for the last twenty minutes. I need him to order or get the fuck out.

  “Uhhh…”

  “You know what?” I ask as I reach across the counter, grab his hands, and pull them up with mine to cover my tits. There! Now, he’s had his handful.

  “Now, what can I get you to drink?” I ask as politely as I can at this point. His mouth just hangs open, but he orders a beer with a grin on his face. I take his hands off my tits, spin around giving him a shot of my ass, and grab a beer from the cooler.

  I hate his type. Even if he is kinda cute, he still isn’t my type. God that sounded so cliché. I don’t have a type. If it has a dick, I’ll usually ride it. I’m not that picky.

  I set his beer on the end of the counter in front of him, when another voice calls out from the other end of the bar. “Hey, can I get what he got?” I flip the man off not bothering to even look and see who said it. I know that I have a few regulars here already. I haven’t worked here long, but the guys seem to love me. What can I say?

  “Miss?” someone else hollers. I snort at that. Miss? What kind of shit is that to say? Making my way down the bar, I stop in front of the polite one.

  “What can I get for you?” I ask as I lean into the bar with my tits popping out of the top of my shirt. His eyes flick down to them like they all do before he brings them back up to rest on my eyes.

  “Do you have Sex on the Beach?” he asks timidly.

  “Beaches, back alleys, freeways… I’m not picky,” I tell him with a wink. His face flushes beet red as I pull back to make his drink. Sitting it in front of him, he smiles at me.

  I fucking love working here. I’m a people person. I like people in general, although some just seem to piss me off by simply breathing. Joe lets me have free rein of the bar for the most part. Especially since he saw how I connect with the customers. I have to say, I think it’s my charming personality. Yeah, fucking, right. Who the fuck am I kidding? It’s these giant ass tits I was blessed with. Men seem to gravitate toward them. The door chimes, letting me know someone else is here.

  “Welcome to Joe’s!” I yell over the crowd. See? Fucking friendly. I move along the bar, picking up empties and wiping up spilled drinks. I hear a few ladies gasp and giggle at the other end. I just shake my head and continue on with my job. These women come in here to get drunk and as the night goes on the men in here start looking more and more sexier to them. I’ve been down that road a few times myself. I grab my tips, stuff them into my pocket, and spin around. I wasn’t expecting to come face to face with a beast.

  “Satan? You again?” I ask as I plaster a smile on my face and flounce my way towards him. Leaning on the counter, I give him an eye full of my tits.

  “I’m more of an ass man, sweetheart,” he says in that deep, dark voice I remember all too well. It’s been weeks since I fucked this man in an alley, but there’s no way in hell I’d forget him. “What’s with the Satan thing?” he asks as if he’s interested in my reasoning.

  “You remind me of him. What can I get ya?” His eyes stay locked on mine. Not one word comes from his lips.

  “I don’t have all night. As you can see, I’m kinda busy,” I snap at him.

  A slow, devious smirk crosses his face before he replies, “I can see that. Maybe what I want you can’t give me in front of all these people.”

  Oh, my dear Satan, did you just issue me a challenge? Throwing my head back, I laugh before I jump onto the counter. I swing my ass around so that my legs come to rest on either side of him. And I spread them wide open. “What was it you wanted again?” I tease him.

  His eyes move this time from mine to travel down my body. Cat calls and whistles sound throughout the room when his hand comes down to rest on my thigh. “I knew you were a slut, but damn baby. Right here in front of the whole bar?” His fingers slowly slide up my thigh, stopping right at the bottom of my shorts. His eyes remain on mine trying to see if I’ll stop him, and hell to the no I absolutely will not be stopping him. I don’t care if I lose my job for fucking this beast. Right here on the bar. That’s a thrill I’m willing to risk this job for.

  “Whitley!” Joe barks behind me. I turn my head and look over my shoulder with a smile.

  “Hey, Joe,” I squeal. I absolutely love Joe. Not in the love, love sense, but in the he lets me get away with murder because I’m the best bar tender he’s ever had.

  “What did I tell you about trying to fuck the customers at work?” he grins and walks the rest of the way behind me. He then wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me off the bar.

  “Do it on my own time. You’re not paying me to fuck; you’re paying me to serve. But if you think about it Joe, that would be a service,” I tease him, slapping a hand on his chest, over his heart. I walk down the bar as he laughs and starts talking to Satan.

  I hand out a few more rounds and clean up even more spills on the bar. I swear some people are just so damn careless when they’re drunk. I keep watching out of the corner of my eye as Joe and Satan get deeper into their conversation. He already has my skin heated up from that touch of his. I suppose it’s a good thing Joe came out when he did. I may have really lost my job this time.

  Now that I think about it, no I wouldn’t have. Joe wouldn’t fire me even if his life depended on it.

  “Hey, Whit!” I turn to see the smiling face of the blonde woman that comes in here almost every fucking night.

  “Carla, how was work?” She works in accounting for a big firm somewhere fancy schmancy. She always comes in here and talks about her lack of a sex life and her god awful boss. To me he sounds interesting. Maybe somebody I’d fuck, but to Carla he’s too over the top.

  “Not too bad. Just was a pain in my butt like always. Oh, and we got a new girl on my floor. He�
�s moved on from harassing me to going after her,” she sighs. Is she fucking jealous? I grab the vodka and pour her a shot. Setting it in front of her, I see her peek up at me with a shy smile.

  “Jealousy is not pretty on you, babe.”

  “Whitley, I am not jealous. He’s annoying. He thinks he’s so high and mighty. Thinks he’s so much better than-”

  I cut her off. “He’s hot. He’s rich. He has a dirty mouth. Seems pretty damn good to me,” I tell her. Carla’s mouth drops open as I giggle at her.

  “Yo Whit, come here. I’ve got a new job for you,” Joe calls out to me from down the bar. I turn and look at him over my shoulder only to find a fucking smirk on Satan’s face.

  “Who is that?” Carla asks dreamily.

  “That, my friend, is the devil himself.”

  Chapter 7

  Mason

  She glances over her shoulder while her little friend stares down at us. Joe just shakes his head and turns back toward me.

  “She’ll give you hell. I’m not so sure about this Mason,” he says keeping his eyes on me.

  “You think I can’t handle a little blonde for a few days?” I ask him with a smirk.

  “She isn’t just a little blonde. I learned that lesson very quickly. She’s snarky and she has a mouth from hell. I don’t think there’s much that she won’t do.” I like his answer. There isn’t much I won’t do either. Although, I don’t know how I let him talk me into this shit. I don’t like bitches on my bike. I don’t like the idea of her tagging along on my run either, but I have too much respect for Joe to tell him no. If he needs help, I’ll gladly do it.

  “What’s this about a new job? Hand job? Blow job? Which do you want?” she beams up at Joe as she walks over to him with her hands on her hips.

  “None of the above, princess. You remember I told you the bar was shutting down for a few days while I get some repairs done? Well, I set you up on another job while that happens,” Joe tells her. She looks at him like he’s lost his mind. It’s a little funny to watch her in her element.