She rolled onto her side far enough to be able to reach the nightstand and pull the drawer open.
“Careful of the gun. It’s loaded, one in the fuckin’ chamber.”
She yanked her hand back as if something burned her and turned wide sky-blue eyes to him.
“Just be careful. Grab a wrap.”
She rose up enough to peek into the drawer, then tentatively put her hand in and pulled out a condom. She rolled back into place, holding the wrapper up. “Now what?”
“Ain’t a virgin, right?”
“No.”
“Then roll that on my dick.”
“You want me to do it?”
“Fuck yes.” He was going to make her drive this whole fucking thing, so she knew how real this was going to be. The second that reality hit her, and she wanted him to stop, he was doing just that and kicking her right out the fucking door.
She rolled up to a seated position, ripped open the wrapper, and when she fisted her hot little hand around the root of his dick, he almost fell apart.
Damn.
She rolled the wrap down his length and tossed the wrapper off the bed onto the floor. He smirked. Hell fuckin’ yeah.
As she was rolling back, he stopped her. “No.” He shifted to his ass. “Fuckin’ teased me with that lap dance. Now you’re gonna do it again with nothin’ but the wrap between us. Got me?”
She smiled and moved close enough where he could grab her and pull her onto his thighs.
“All you, baby girl. Show me how much you want this.”
She circled one arm around his neck, shoving her hand into his hair at the back of his head. Holding his dick in her other hand, she rose up, positioned herself until the tip of his dick was tucked between her hot pussy lips and, in one move, sank down.
“Fuck. Me,” he groaned, fighting the urge to shoot his load immediately into her tight, hot snatch.
“I am.”
“Not what I meant, but we’ll go with it.”
As she rose and fell on him, the hard tips of her nipples dragged along his skin and he wanted them in his mouth, but she was too short for him to reach comfortably. Instead, with one hand on her ass guiding her up and down his pole, he snagged one of her nipples between his fingers and twisted. Her back arched, then she fell forward with a groan, crushing her lips to his.
Shoving her tongue into his mouth, she kissed him so hard, so deeply, that he swore she tickled his tonsils. But he wasn’t complaining. He certainly fucking wasn’t. He shoved back, pushing his tongue into her mouth instead, tasting every inch of her and letting her taste herself on his tongue. He trailed his fingers down the smooth skin of her back until he got to the cleft in her ass, then he dipped them lower, brushing across a place he wanted to explore at a later time. However, now wasn’t it.
No way was he lasting much longer.
As she rode him hard, her pussy clenched and squeezed him until his brain turned to mush.
And the intense urge to make her his hit him in the gut.
With a grunt, he used his weight to roll her onto her back and he took over, slamming her hard, snagging a nipple in his mouth, sucking, flicking, scraping his teeth over one tip then the other.
She wiggled, screamed and called out his real name, spurring him on to take her harder and faster. When her legs wrapped around his hips, he slipped his hands under her ass and lifted her up enough so he could drive deep and hit her just right.
Then she exploded around him, clawing his back as she cried out, her body convulsing around him, trying to draw him deeper. He gritted his teeth, so he’d at least last until her orgasm was over, but it took every inch of willpower he had.
When she cried out, “Again!” he shook his head.
“Can’t, baby girl... Can’t...”
With one last thrust, he captured her mouth once more and his load shot out of him with such force that he swore he saw stars.
He broke their kiss so he could suck in some much needed oxygen and stared down into the face that would change his fucking life.
He just knew it.
And he wasn’t sure he was happy about it, either.
Chapter Four
When Emma finally caught her breath, she dropped her gaze from the ceiling to the man who was now lying beside her, trying to slow his own ragged breathing.
Like he said, she should be regretting her actions since she did something so out of character for her. She simply didn’t sleep with random strangers.
And she certainly didn’t sleep with big tattooed bikers.
What the hell was she thinking?
“Damn, where did that come from?” he grumbled next to her, one arm thrown over his head, the other laying across his heavily decorated belly. His forehead still showed signs of perspiration.
Where did that come from? She honestly didn’t have an answer. She had never been sexually promiscuous in her life. But she wasn’t a prude, either. She enjoyed sex, yes. Though she couldn’t remember enjoying it as much as she just had. With complete abandonment. And this man hadn’t treated her like a breakable doll, he had given her everything he had.
Or at least that’s what she thought. Did he have more? Did she want to find out?
“I don’t know. I lost my head. I... I haven’t been intimate with anyone in a long time. I’ve been focused on... other things.” She rolled to her side and studied his large body sprawled on his back. “Apparently, I needed this.” Maybe it was all the stress she’d been under for the past few months. Maybe she just needed to let loose and forget all her problems, even if only for a little while.
“You ain’t the only one.”
She reached out and placed her palm on his damp chest, watching it rise and fall for a moment. Her skin looked so pale next to the colors of his tattoos. “Please don’t think I used sex to get this job.”
He moved his hand up to cover hers. “Believe me, woman, us doin’ that has nothin’ to do with you gettin’ the job.”
“I got it?” She held her breath, hoping for an affirmative answer.
He reached up and brushed away a lock of her hair that was plastered to her cheek as he studied her face. “Want the truth?”
“Yes. Please.”
“Wanna tell you fuck no.” He lifted his hand to stop her when she opened her mouth to argue. “Gonna give you a shot. A trial period. Got me?”
She smiled. “Yes!”
“Gonna get some of the girls to work with you an’ teach you some money-makin’ moves. Start you off on daylight where the clientele ain’t so picky. See how you do.”
As the excitement and relief rushed through her over that news, she squealed and climbed on top of him, planting a big, fat kiss on his lips.
He chuckled. “Hang on.” He reached underneath her, pulled off the condom, tied a knot in it and chucked it onto the floor.
Her first reaction was disgust at that move, but then it wasn’t her floor and she just got a job.
And had some awesome, stress-relieving sex.
With a big, burly, bearded biker who was probably an actual pussycat deep down inside.
She tugged gently on his thick beard. “I have to admit, I kind of like the beard now.”
He grinned. “Just kinda?”
“More than kinda.”
He reached up and wrapped a lock of her hair around his finger. One of a few that had a bulky silver ring on it. “Lemme know when you wanna feel it again.”
“Mmm.” If there was a next time, she wanted him to spend a lot longer down there than what he did earlier. A lot longer.
He brushed a knuckle over her cheek. “When’s the last time you had a man?”
“Had a man or had sex with a man?”
“There a difference?’
“Yes. It’s been over a year and a half since I had a man. Longer since I’ve had sex with one.”
“Makes no sense.”
“Yes, it does when...” she hesitated. She was feeling good, she didn’t want to bring that blissful satisfactio
n crashing down around her. Not now.
He frowned when she didn’t continue. “Ain’t gonna tell me.”
“No, it’s not your problem. It’s mine.”
“You end up as one of my girls, your problems become my problems. Got me?” When she didn’t answer, he continued more firmly. “I hire you, you gotta spill it all. Got me? Gotta know what I’m dealin’ with. Ain’t bringin’ unexpected shit down on me or the club.”
“Okay.”
“So, you wanna dance at my club, be prepared for me to be all up in your business, got me?”
Lord, it would be a relief to finally get all this off her chest, to have even the smallest of help. An ally. Something. She’d been going at this alone for so long...
But what could this biker do for her? For her problems?
“Lemme tell you how it all works... This ain’t no nine to five. Got house fees. Gotta choice. Either you’re payin’ a stage fee an’ keepin your tips or on rare occasion I’ll accept a percentage of your tips instead. I’ll discount your stage fee since you’ll start out on daylight. Prime time’s a lot higher. The house gets a percentage of each private dance. You’re gonna hafta buy outfits, shoes, an’ you’re gonna hafta tip the DJ if they’re playin’ while you dance. That’s only some of the costs, baby girl. You prepared to do that? Ain’t a job where it’s rainin’ money. Your feet are gonna hurt. You’re gonna be sick of perverts, men who wanna fuck you, take you to dinner, make you their girl. Ain’t a walk in the park. Some women walk away because they’re payin’ more than their makin’. Got me?”
She rolled her lips under at his millionth “Got me?” “Got you,” she answered.
“Start daylight. Stage fee will be twenty bucks a dance. You negotiate your private dances. More you make, more I make. Got me?”
“Got you,” she repeated.
“Need sexy shit. No jeans. Platform heels. Gonna check to see if you can borrow some from the other girls ‘til you got enough scratch to get your own. You’re on the older side, but still got the innocent look so you got that goin’ for ya. Bite that lip, give ‘em a sultry look, shake your tits an’ ass. Learn some moves an’ you’re gonna have ‘em eatin’ outta your hand.”
She waited for his signature “got me.” And when it didn’t come she said, “Got you,” anyway and giggled.
He lifted his head, his eyes narrowed. “Somethin’ funny?”
“No.”
“’Cause this shit’s serious. Got me?”
She pressed her face into his chest and couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up. Then something he said hit her. She lifted her head. “Hey! I’m on the older side?”
“How old are you?”
“I’m only twenty-nine!”
“Yeah. Old for this biz.”
“Twenty-nine is not old,” she exclaimed. “I’m younger than you!” He had to be at least thirty-five.
“Most of the dancers start out young. Eighteen, twenty. Start before they’re poppin’ out the kids, stretchin’ shit out.”
“So, I’m washed up before I even start?”
“Ain’t washed up. My oldest girl’s forty. She still got it goin’ on. Popular with my regulars but she got skills.” He traced his fingers down her arm. “Got kids?”
Emma closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He wanted her to be straight with him. It was part of the deal. But she wasn’t sure if she was ready to tell him everything. “Yes.”
“How many?”
“One. I’m doing this for her.”
He nodded. “Times are tough. Got you.”
“Yes, times are very tough. How about you? Do you have kids?”
“Suspect so.”
Emma lifted her head and stared down into his green eyes. “You suspect so? You don’t know?”
“One I’m pretty sure’s mine. Wasn’t told about her. Name ain’t on the birth certificate so was adopted by the woman’s new husband when she was an infant. Didn’t know anything ‘bout her ‘til I heard a rumor.”
“How old is she now?”
“Fourteen.”
“And you’ve never met her?”
“No. When I heard ‘bout her, went an’ waited for her outside her school. Saw ‘er from a distance. Soon as I saw her, knew she was mine.”
“Then demand a DNA test.”
He shook his head. “Her dad makes good money. Family’s livin’ large, big house, fancy cars, private school. She’s got siblin’s. Nothin’ like my life. She got it good. Better than what I could give ‘er. Probably go to college, make somethin’ out of herself. She don’t need a daddy who’s got a stable of girls strippin’ for a livin’.”
“Her mother never told you she was pregnant?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“’Cause fuckin’ me was a mistake for her. Wanted to walk on the wild side for a hot minute. Didn’t expect she’d walk away with a piece of me. We were both young an’ stupid.”
“Do you want to know your daughter?”
He didn’t say anything for the longest time, only stared up at the ceiling. Finally, he murmured, “Best to let it go.”
There was something in his voice that made an ache grow in her chest.
He didn’t want to let it go.
And there was no way Emma was doing that, either. She couldn’t let her daughter go, just like that. She was going to fight with every ounce of her being to get hers back.
He turned his head toward the nightstand and then sat up suddenly, making her tumble off his chest. “Fuckin’ gotta get downstairs ‘fore things go to shit.” He rolled off the bed, yanked on his jeans, still leaving them undone. He dragged a hand through his hair and down over his beard. “You gotta go an’ I gotta shower.”
Emma blinked. She was being dismissed. Just like that.
A wham, bam, and not even a “thank you, ma’am.”
“When can I start?”
He stared at her for a long, uncomfortable moment. He was going to change his mind!
She sat up quickly and took the matter into her own hands. “I’ll be here tomorrow morning. Bright and early.”
“Ain’t no bright an’ early ‘round here. Ten-thirty. I’ll get Dawn to come in then an’ help get you ready.”
She got to her feet. “Thank you, Dawson.”
“Fuckin’ Dawg.”
“Sorry. Dawg. Dawson’s a nice name.” She gathered her own clothes, pulling them on as she found them.
“Been Dawg longer than been Dawson.”
As she moved around the living room, she realized how much she needed a shower, too. “Well, I like it.”
“Fuckin’ relieved.”
She glanced up from buttoning her blouse. “What?”
“Fuckin’ relieved that you like my name. Don’t mean you should use it.”
“Why not?”
“Ain’t me.”
She studied him for a moment. He was right. Dawson didn’t fit the way he looked on the outside, Dawg did. But she liked it anyhow. It was a good name for a good man.
Biker. Strip club manager. Selfless father.
She just knew deep down inside he was a Dawson. And there was more than met the eye with the big, gruff man before her.
She finished closing her blouse, raced over to him, grabbed a chunk of his beard, pulling his head down with a yank, and planted a big, fat kiss on his lips.
“Thank you, Dawson!”
Before the surprise could be hidden from his expression, she grabbed her heels off the floor and dashed out the door. She ran down the steps barefoot and back to her car, trying not to scream out her joy at things going her way for once.
Things might be looking up!
Finally.
Dawg leaned back against the bar, arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tight, his mouth curved downward.
This was a complete mistake.
His brain knew it. His instincts screamed it. But he, the stupid fuck that he was, ignored all the signs.
&n
bsp; Why? Because the woman on stage right now screwing the pooch gave him a hard-on that wouldn’t quit.
That wasn’t the only reason why. Fuck no, it wasn’t.
He saw something in her that he hadn’t seen in a long time. Problem was, it was the same thing he had seen in his daughter’s mother.
Something he had wanted to hang on to but ended up being a pipe dream.
Stupid fuck that he was, he thought she’d settle for him. For a tattooed biker from the wrong side of the tracks.
Nope.
He’d been dead fucking wrong. Those couple of nights all those years ago, she only considered his dick a ride at the state fair while she held a fist full of tickets.
He’d been used.
Normally, he wouldn’t have cared. Pussy was pussy. Something to bust a nut into. But he had hoped... Fuck, he’d thought there was something different about her.
But, fuck him, there wasn’t.
And now he stood there staring up at Emma on stage, doing the worst pole dancing he’d ever seen, wearing shit that made him want to blow a fucking blood vessel. He didn’t think it would bother him quite that much when she got naked on stage in front of other men.
But it did.
Even if it was for only two of his regular daytime customers and another few stragglers that had wandered in off the street. And none of them were really paying attention to the awful moves that Ember was attempting to do.
Good fucking thing for that.
Instead, their attention was drawn to the daylight girls he had scheduled today. Dawn and Kitty were currently working the room with their tits all pushed up out of their tops, trying to convince the customers to buy them a drink and then crack open their tight wallets for private dances.
Sometimes they would. Sometimes they wouldn’t. Both of the regulars were pretty damn cheap. That’s why they came in during happy hour to drink.
“Thank fuck,” Dawg muttered when the song finally came to an end and Emma practically stumbled off the stage only wearing borrowed platform shoes and a baby blue G-string that hopefully wasn’t borrowed.
She was going to break her damn neck.
Dawg whacked his long-time bartender, Cubby, on the back and gave him a chin lift. “Got the girls’ music list?”
Down & Dirty: Dawg (Dirty Angels MC Book 7) Page 5