Down & Dirty: Dawg (Dirty Angels MC Book 7)
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Down & Dirty: Dawg
Dirty Angels MC, Book 7
Jeanne St. James
Copyright © 2018 by Jeanne St. James
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Editor: Proofreading by the Page
Cover Art: Susan Garwood of Wicked Women Designs
Beta Readers: Author Whitley Cox, Krisztina Hollo, Andi Babcock and Nessa Kreyling
www.jeannestjames.com
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Warning: This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice (BDSM or otherwise) without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. The author will not be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in this book.
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Contents
Books by Jeanne St. James
About the Book
DAMC
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Down & Dirty: Dex Sneak Peek
Down & Dirty: Dex Sneak Peek
In the Shadows Security Series
If You Enjoyed This Book
Bear’s Family Tree
Doc’s Family Tree
Also by Jeanne St. James
Audio Books by Jeanne St. James
About the Author
FREE Erotic Sampler Book
Books by Jeanne St. James
Made Maleen: A Modern Twist on a Fairy Tale
Damaged
Rip Cord: The Complete Trilogy
Brothers in Blue Series:
(Can be read as standalones)
Brothers in Blue: Max
Brothers in Blue: Marc
Brothers in Blue: Matt
Teddy: A Brothers in Blue Novelette
The Dare Ménage Series:
(Can be read as standalones)
Double Dare
Daring Proposal
Dare to Be Three
A Daring Desire
Dare to Surrender
The Obsessed Novellas:
(All the novellas in this series are standalones)
Forever Him
Only Him
Needing Him
Loving Her
Temping Him
Down & Dirty: Dirty Angels MC Series:
(Can be read as standalones)
Down & Dirty: Zak
Down & Dirty: Jag
Down & Dirty: Hawk
Down & Dirty: Diesel
Down & Dirty: Axel
Down & Dirty: Slade
Down & Dirty: Dawg
Down & Dirty: Dex
Down & Dirty: Linc
Down & Dirty: Crow
You can find information on all of Jeanne’s books here:
http://www.jeannestjames.com/
Welcome to Shadow Valley where the Dirty Angels MC rules. Get ready to get Down & Dirty because this is Dawg’s story…
She has a secret. But little does she know, so does he.
With a past he’s not proud of and a secret only recently discovered, Dawg’s life is about to change when a kindergarten teacher walks into Heaven’s Angels Gentlemen’s Club, a DAMC business he’s run for the past fifteen years. With no experience, her dancing sucks but he can’t deny the woman’s determination to get the job and, against his better judgement, hires her anyway. While her girl-next-door looks may be good for business, he’s not ready for someone like Emma to walk into his life.
Emma’s desperate. She not only needs a lot of cash, but needs it quickly. Recently unemployed and with nowhere else to turn, she takes a drastic step by auditioning at Dawg’s club. When he finds out her secret, he’s willing to go above and beyond to help her. However, Emma has no idea how a bearded, tattooed biker and strip club manager can help when law enforcement can’t.
Coming from two different worlds, Dawg’s life needs to change drastically to make things work, but is he willing to give up almost everything he’s ever known for Emma?
Note: This book can be read as a standalone. It includes lots of steamy scenes, biker slang, cursing, some violence and, of course, an HEA. If you like alpha males who like to take charge, this book is for you.
Down & Dirty ’til Dead
Author’s Note
It’s hard to believe that Dawg’s story is the eighth book in the DAMC series. There was something about the big, bad, bearded biker that hit me right in the feelz. Dawg quickly burrowed himself into my heart. And I have a feeling he’ll remain there for quite a while.
Dear reader, I hope that Dawg’s story hits you right in the feelz as well. While reading, if you have to use a tissue or two… #sorrynotsorry
Chapter One
“For fuck’s sake,” Dawg muttered. He glanced at the digital clock that was hidden behind the bar for the tenth time.
The bitch was late.
She’d begged him for an audition, even though his stable was full.
Her soft, husky voice over the phone finally convinced him to say yes. Against his better judgement, of course. Because when he asked her if she was experienced, she beat around the fucking bush.
Which meant she wasn’t. And he had no patience for amateurs or novices.
None what-so-fucking-ever.
Scrubbing a hand over his beard, he shot a glance at the front entrance, then at the clock once more.
He grabbed a cold Iron City beer from the cooler behind the bar, popped the tab on the can and lifted it to his lips.
He was done.
No bitch was worth the wait.
None.
He’d been stood up. Almost like a bad date. Though it had been a long time since he’d been on anything that was even remotely similar to one.
Well, unless fucking some random snatch until she came all over him was considered a date. Most likely it wasn’t. An actual date probably included flowers, a movie and even dinner.
Or at least a shot of whiskey and a little fingering, before busting a nut.
“Fuck you, bitch. Dawg waits for no one,” he muttered to the sweating beer can in his hand, then took another swallow of the ice-cold brew.
But, fuck him, if he didn’t stand there and wait even longer. Again, it was that smooth as warm honey voice that made him keep his ass planted right where he was. He’d give her until he finished his beer. Then he’d head back up to his apartment, knock a quick one out with his own palm, and catch some more zzz’s.
He slammed the can onto the bar, causing it to splash over his f
ist. With another curse, he wiped his dripping hand along his jeans.
Then he heard the door open down the front corridor and a sliver of ass-crack-of-dawn sunlight reflected off the wall. Suddenly a woman was standing at the end of the hall, pale as shit and eyes wide. Like a skittish doe about to be plowed down by a Mack truck.
Raking his gaze over her from top to toe, the first thing that hit him was she had sweet fucking tits. If they were real, she already had a leg up on this audition. The second was...
She was wearing a fucking high-neck blouse.
Who the fuck wore a boring beige top that covered her as much as a turtleneck to a stripper audition?
Her waist was narrow, her hips curvy, and...
She wore a skirt all the way to her fucking ankles.
And she wasn’t even wearing heels!
“What the fuck,” he muttered.
Maybe she was confused and was looking for a church nearby.
While there were a lot of “Oh Gods!” being said in his establishment, they were usually during private lap dances.
“Are you Dawson?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw as his teeth clenched. Dawson? He hadn’t heard that name spoken out loud in a long damn time.
“Dawg,” he grunted.
She blinked, but remained at the end of the corridor. He wanted to see what color those eyes of hers were and if they matched the husky tone of her voice.
“Dog? Like the woof-woof kind of dog?”
“What the fuck,” he muttered once more. “No, like Dawg... D-A-W-G.”
She tilted her head and studied him. There was another thing wrong with her... Her hair was pulled up high and tight. His customers liked his girls’ hair long and loose. So they could swing it when they danced. So the men could imagine fisting it while they fantasized about one of his girls sucking them off. Or picture pulling it like the reins of a pony while fucking one of them doggy-style and slapping their ass.
Which never happened on his watch. Fuck no. His girls weren’t whores. They were “exotic entertainers.” They didn’t put out for money. If they did, and he found out about it, they were outside looking in faster than they could say “G-string.” He ran a respectable joint and certainly didn’t need Shadow Valley PD breathing down his goddamn neck.
Though some of them did give it up to his brothers in the Dirty Angels MC, that was their choice and not for money. None were forced to do it. It had to be a mutual agreement between the brother and the girl.
A little reciprocal pleasure.
As he stared at the woman still hovering by the nearest escape route, he doubted this woman would give it up to any biker. She seemed way too uptight for that.
“I-I think I made a mistake.”
That was an understatement. “I’d fuckin’ say so.”
Dawg finished off his beer, crumpled the can in his hand and whipped it into the recycle bin under the counter, then rounded the end of the bar.
Her eyes widened once again when he approached her. Which kind of, sort of, bothered him.
Yeah, he knew he could be a little intimidating. He was a big dude. He had a beard. He had a bunch of tats. He wore bulky silver rings on his thick fingers and a cut proclaiming that he was DAMC and damn proud of it. But he wasn’t a man who hurt women.
Fuck no. When they screamed it was because he was licking their pussy so good that...
Fuck. Now he had half a fucking hard-on. And if he yanked on it to adjust it to a more comfortable position, she might just pee her panties. Or bloomers. Or whatever the fuck she wore under that awful shit-brown skirt.
“Don’t know what you’re lookin’ for, but it ain’t here.”
He couldn’t miss how hard she swallowed before taking a tentative step forward. “I called you about an audition.”
Dawg eyeballed her up and down in slow motion on purpose, so she’d realize this place wasn’t for her. When color flooded her cheeks, it cemented his opinion.
“What fuckin’ stripper wears a goddamn shirt that don’t show any cleavage an’ a skirt—” he lifted a ringed finger, “—not short and leather, fuck no. One that covers her down to her ankles?”
She glanced down at herself for a second, then looked back up at him and shrugged slightly. “A kindergarten teacher.”
Dawg’s head jerked back. “A fuckin’ what?”
She cleared her throat and pulled her shoulders back. Which he just happened to notice emphasized those big-ass tits. “A kindergarten teacher.”
He blinked and let what she said sink in. “You wanna role play when you strip? My clientele might like that. Kinda like a sexy librarian. Or a sexy teacher who knows how to use a wooden ruler in a good way, but you gotta drop the ‘kindergarten’ shit. That might be a turnoff.”
She shook her head and bravely took another step forward. Now she was only a few feet from him, causing his nostrils to flare when he caught a whiff of her scent. Flowers. Or something light. Nothing heavy and clingy like his girls wore.
And from where he stood, he didn’t think she had a stitch of makeup on.
“No. I’m a real teacher. I teach kindergarten. You know, with children?”
He frowned. If she was a teacher, what the fuck was she doing in his club? Dawg waved his arm around Heaven’s Angels Gentlemen’s Club. “Does this look like a fuckin’ kiddie school to you?”
Her head lifted slightly higher when she answered, “No.”
He studied her for a second and decided he needed a better look. “Step under the light so I can see you better,” he ordered. In no way was this woman here for any kind of audition. He pointed to the recessed light in the ceiling that was closest to him.
After a slight hesitation she did it. She bit her bottom lip and held it between her teeth as he checked her out once more. The lip thing was pushing the blood into his dick at an alarming rate. Which was surprising since the way she was dressed did nothing for him.
He took a step closer and her body wavered slightly, but she didn’t back up even though she barely came up to his chin.
“Look up,” he demanded. And when she did, he finally saw how blue her big eyes were.
Even though she held his gaze, she was nervous, and he could see the determination in her. She had a fire in her belly. He liked that. The woman was here for a reason and that reason was important, whatever it was.
Her blonde hair looked like her real color. Not all bleached out like some of his girls. He hated that shit and yelled at them all the time for it. He wanted his girls to look as natural as possible, but it was a losing battle.
But all that blonde hair was pulled back tight at the back of her head in a bun or whatever they were called. Similar to how Bella wore her hair when she was working in the bakery to keep it out of the cupcakes and icing and shit.
Her face was, just as he thought, clean of any makeup, naturally pretty, even wholesome looking. A perfect example of the girl-next-door.
But something about her was definitely not girl-next-door if she was here for a job.
“If you’re a kindergarten teacher, you already got a job,” he murmured, fighting to keep from reaching out and running a knuckle along her cheek to test how soft her flawless ivory skin felt.
“I need the money,” she whispered back, not breaking his gaze. A spark had flared in her eyes when she admitted that.
Being a stripper wasn’t one of her career goals. Fuck no. Probably wasn’t even on her bucket list. She needed cold, hard cash. That was the real reason she was standing before him, trying desperately to hide her fear of him. She thought that flashing her tits would be a windfall, would get her out of whatever financial jam she was in.
“For what?”
She dropped her gaze and shook her head. “That’s personal.”
This woman was here for the wrong reasons.
Suddenly, he was feeling generous. “Look, if you need some scratch... a loan...”
Her eyes flicked back up to him. “No, no loan. I’m already
in debt because of...”
“’Cause of what?”
She swallowed hard. “Nothing.”
“Ain’t nothin’.”
She sucked in a breath. “Just forget it. I’m sure there are other clubs in the area who will give me a chance.”
Though he needed fresh faces and fresh bodies to bring in new clientele, and to keep the regulars coming back, he didn’t need any right now and he was sure he would regret his next decision.
When she turned to leave, he grabbed her wrist. “Hold up.”
She stared at where he held her, her wrist looking tiny in his hand. He loosened his grip slightly since he didn’t want the bulky rings on his fingers to bruise her, but not enough where she could slip away.
“What’s your name?”
“What?”
“Your name. What’s your name?” Dawg barked.
“E-Emma.”
He already knew her real name; she had told him it on the phone. “No. Your stage name.”
The confusion on her face was another telling sign that she didn’t belong in his club, or even on a stage. And certainly not naked in front of a crowd of men, for fuck’s sake.