“I’m sure Diesel’s looking for his next romantic bathroom rendezvous.”
“Ain’t gonna be me.”
“You can resist his charms?”
“Yeah, if you call grunting, grumbling and chest pounding charms. And find a big-ass, badass, scary-ass, bossy-ass beast charming.”
Ivy laughed. Jewel tipped the beer bottle to her lips. She reminded Ivy of Jag. It was easy to tell that they were siblings. Along with their sister, Diamond, they had stunning bluish-grey eyes that could peer into your soul and plenty of thick dark brown hair. Jag’s was shorter than his sisters’, of course. All the women of the DAMC sisterhood tended to wear their hair long, the longer the better. While the brothers kept theirs at all different lengths. From Hawk’s very short Mohawk, with the sides shaved and tattooed, to Crow’s very long black, straight hair, usually kept in a ponytail.
Ivy had to admit, she wouldn’t mind running her fingers through Crow’s hair to see if it was as silky as it looked.
“So, I heard some shit at the shop...”
Jewel always heard shit at the shop. She was the office manager there, keeping the guys straight in both the garage, managed by Crash, and the towing company, managed by Rig. She had quite a challenge doing it, too.
Jewel looked around her to make sure no one was sneaking up. “Heard they’re gonna get one of Dawg’s girls to infiltrate the Dark Knights, try to get the skinny on their territory grab.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Looking for someone who’s willing to do it.”
“Why would one of the strippers want to do that?”
Jewel shrugged. “Money?”
“Yeah, but—”
“They not only need someone willing, but someone loyal.”
Ivy snorted. “Loyal? And they’re looking at one of Dawg’s girls? Please. They’re loyal as long as you’re shoving dollar bills in their thongs.”
“Agreed.” Jewel pursed her lips for a second before saying, “We should do it.”
Ivy’s head spun toward Jewel. “What?”
“Yeah. We should go in, hang out and get some info.”
“Are you fucking crazy?”
“No. What’s the worst that could happen? We have to sleep with one of the Knights to get a little pillow talk? Like I said, I haven’t gotten any recently, anyway.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?” Ivy repeated in disbelief. “You are fucking crazy. How about being raped? Or fucked up. Or even killed if they discover you’re DAMC property.”
“We’re not DAMC property,” Jewel muttered.
“Yeah, we shout to the rooftops that we’re not but when it comes down to
it, you know the truth is we are.” Fuck, she hated admitting that. But that was the truth, like it or not.
“Don’t you want an adventure? You’re always dating those nerdy guys. Don’t you want some excitement?”
“It’s safer to go skydiving.”
“What are you girls talking about?” Bella asked, leaning over Ivy’s shoulder to hand her a fresh drink.
Ivy gladly accepted it and took a long pull at it. Because after hearing Jewel’s half-cocked idea, she needed it.
“Nothing,” Ivy grumbled, giving Jewel a look, letting her know to keep her mouth shut.
Jewel frowned and tugged at her beer.
“Heard Diesel’s looking for you in the bathroom, Jewel,” Bella teased.
“Heard Axel’s out front with his legs spread and holding a boom box over his head playing a Peter Gabriel song,” Jewel busted back, slapping her thigh and laughing.
“And Jag’s sending threatening emails to the Geek Squad warning them from plugging into your USB port, Ivy.” Bella smirked.
“You guys are freaking funny,” Ivy muttered.
Bella’s smile disappeared when she looked toward the stage as the band, Dirty Deeds, started their first set. “Fucking Goldie.”
Ivy’s head whipped toward the direction Bella was looking, her heart in her throat. It dropped back in place when the guy Goldie was sucking off in front of the band wasn’t Jag. It was one of the prospects, Squirrel.
“She’s doing prospects now,” Bella said, shaking her head. “Can’t get any lower than that.”
“She’s getting older, gotta try to hook her tarnished star to someone’s hog while she still can. I guess a prospect is better than no one. Dawg probably won’t have her stripping much longer. I heard him say she isn’t a main draw anymore.” Jewel said, the distaste for the woman clear in her voice.
“Squirrel isn’t going to make her an ol’ lady,” Ivy stated, hoping that was true.
“Don’t think he cares about making her an ol’ lady right about now,” Bella muttered.
Even from where they sat, they could see the young prospect’s face was tight, his eyes were squeezed shut and his hands dug deep into Goldie’s bleached blonde hair.
The members of the band ignored the show taking place at the foot of their stage as they went from one song into the next.
“Well, ladies, fuck those hos. Let’s go dance and show these cavemen the moves of a real woman.”
Ivy was surprised when Bella hooted at Jewel’s suggestion. She was usually low-key but must be sowing a wild oat tonight. She normally stayed inside at these gatherings, working the private bar instead of being outside partying with everyone else. So, it really surprised Ivy when her sister had come outside to hang out.
Though, she was pleased to see more of the sister she remembered returning instead of Bella just being a shell of her former self.
She wondered if it had anything to do with Axel.
Didn’t matter if it did. If Axel made Bella happy, fuck anyone who was against it.
“Yeah, let’s go dance!” Ivy yelled, downing a good portion of her Long Island Iced Tea before snagging Jewel’s hand and pulling her out of the chair.
Fucking Ivy.
Jag sucked his teeth in annoyance as he leaned against the wood post of the pavilion, his eyes peeled to the woman dancing around the crushed grass with a bunch of the other women. They were all officially drunk off their asses. Singing. Swinging their hips. Shaking their tits. And Nash’s band, Dirty Deeds, was playing whatever song would make them do it more wildly.
He knew it wouldn’t be long before some of the sweet butts and hang-arounds, not to mention some of Dawg’s women, were dancing around topless. The weather was warm enough for it. Even if it wasn’t, he doubted that would stop them. It usually didn’t.
If Ivy took off her damn tank top, he would blow a fucking blood vessel.
Zak sidled up to him, sucking on a bottle of beer. “Better than hanging out at Heaven’s Angels.”
“Right.” He turned to his cousin. “Where’s Sophie?”
“Crashin’ in my room upstairs. She was up early bakin’ an’ then that long ride took a lot outta her.”
“Been a while since we rode that long an’ hard.”
“Yeah. Needed that.”
“Hear ya, brother. Sophie did good, though, for bein’ new.”
A proud smile pulled at Z’s lips. “Yeah, she did.” He angled his body toward Jag. “When you puttin’ Ivy on the back of your bike?”
“Why? So she can scratch my fuckin’ eyes out when I’m tryin’ to ride?”
Zak snorted. “Ain’t that bad.”
“Bad enough.”
“She just needs a bit of tamin’.”
“Funny, Ace said the same thing.”
Zak’s brows rose in surprise. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“He tap you for that?”
Jag nodded. “Think so.”
“Damn, cuz. You’re the first brother to get the go ahead for any of the women he thinks he’s responsible for.”
“If he’s like that with them, good thing he never had any daughters of his own.”
Z blew out a breath. “Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth.”
“Damn,” Jag muttered, watching Kelsea and Ivy grinding on each other and
throwing their heads back in laughter. “Goddamn, gonna give every male on the property a fuckin’ hard-on that won’t quit.”
“Look at Diesel havin’ a shit fit across the yard.”
Jag glanced in the larger man’s direction. Even from where Jag stood, he could tell the club’s enforcer was not happy with what the women were doing out in the grass. Not that he had a lot of room to talk, he probably just got boned in the bathroom. And Jag didn’t think he was disturbed by the women letting it all hang out. Maybe he was just being his usual overprotective self with Bella. Though he seemed to be glaring in Jewel’s direction.
That was new.
When Jag looked back to see if his sister noticed, she was oblivious, now dancing with Bella, having a good time. When Jag’s head swiveled back to Diesel, the man was gone.
Huh.
But his attention was quickly drawn back to the women and his body went tight. Ivy was now dancing by herself, her arms waving over her head, her curvy hips swinging, her head swaying, her eyes closed as she followed the music. He felt that all the way down into his dick.
Goddamn.
He swallowed hard. Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw it. One of the regular hang-arounds named Pete making his way closer to the women. Jag pushed himself off the post, his fingers gripping his beer bottle tightly as he watched the guy stalk directly toward Ivy, his eyes glued to her ass.
“Oh, fuck, no,” he muttered. He took a swig of his beer and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth before swinging the bottle towards Zak. “Hold my beer.”
“Nothin’ good ever comes from that sayin’.”
“No shit,” Jag grumbled and moved. Before he made it to the group of women, Pete was standing behind Ivy, his hands on her hips, swaying along with her, grinding his fucking dick into her ass.
He bumped his shoulder hard into Pete, not quite knocking him off his feet, but definitely dislodging him from Ivy’s ass.
“What—” The man looked over his shoulder at Jag and his eyes widened.
“Get gone, Pete,” Jag growled. “Before you permanently disappear.”
Pete lifted his hands in surrender. “Didn’t mean to trespass.”
“You know better than to touch club property.” He tipped his chin toward some of Dawg’s girls dancing in a group on the other side of the bonfire. “Have at it,” Jag muttered, then the man scuttled in that direction.
Ivy ignored him, continuing to move to Dirty Deed’s cover of AC/DC’s Shook Me All Night Long. Jag took Pete’s place behind Ivy, but instead of holding onto her hips, he brushed her long, red hair out of the way and pressed his lips to her ear. “You’ll just take it from anyone, won’t you?”
She stilled and looked over her shoulder, her flashing green eyes narrowed. “Anyone but you.”
Just then, the band started their own slow rendition of Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door. Perfect. He grabbed her bicep, swung her around and directly into his arms.
“What the fuck?” she griped, trying to pull back.
Jag tightened his embrace, his hands sliding from her arms to her hips. He jerked her tight against him. “If you’re lookin’ for some dick, I got what you’re lookin’ for.”
“Jesus. You know how to make a girl melt.”
“Don’t know about melt, but I can make ‘em sweat an’ come.”
“Funny how I don’t remember any of that.”
“Need me to remind you?” He pressed his now hard-as-a-rock erection into her belly. Her eyes went from hot and angry to hot and... something else.
Damn. She did want him. She might fight it like a wildcat but it was unmistakable.
“If I give you this, will you leave me alone?” she asked.
“Leave you alone?”
“Yeah. You get what you’re chasing and then you’ll move on.”
Jag’s brows lowered. “That what you want?”
“Will getting me flat on my back get you off mine?”
No. But he wasn’t admitting that out loud. “Sure.”
She pursed her lips as she studied his face, which he purposely kept blank. “Liar,” she said barely above the loud music. She shook her head. “Go away, Jag.”
“You really want that?”
“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
Jag leaned in until his lips were directly above hers. “Now who’s lyin’?”
“Not me,” she whispered.
“Right,” he whispered back. He wanted to kiss her right there in front of the band, the women, the brotherhood. He didn’t care who was watching when he did it. But if she smacked the shit out of him, he’d mind who saw that. And he had a feeling that might happen.
“Let me go, Jag.”
That was never going to happen. He was never letting her go. Not as long as he was breathing.
But, again, he kept that to himself and reluctantly released her.
He studied the woman he wanted almost his whole life, but kept herself out of his reach. At least until that one fateful night, when he thought things were changing, swinging in his favor. Turned out he couldn’t have been more wrong. After that, she put even more distance between them. “Don’t let me see you leavin’ here with anyone tonight.”
“You don’t have a say in the matter.”
Jag dipped his chin and gave her a hard look. “That wasn’t a challenge.”
“I need a drink.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what you need,” he muttered, shook his head and headed back to his waiting beer.
Jag dragged himself up the stairs toward his room at the clubhouse. The bonfire had died down to just coals, the kegs were kicked, the band was packing up their shit, and the common area downstairs was littered with bodies, either drunk or simply crashed.
After the all-day ride and then the pig roast, his ass was beat and his bed was calling to him.
Too bad he was hitting it alone. Goldie had offered him some company, but after seeing her blow a prospect, he wasn’t near drunk enough to consider what she offered. A couple of the sweet butts had made it known they were available, but Jag wasn’t in the mood for them, either. Diesel had the right idea... fuck them where they stood and don’t let them near your bed, because they were hard to get out afterward.
Anyway, his mind was only on one woman and he had spent most of the night keeping an eye on her. At least, until she hit the head and never returned. A quick check of the parking lot showed her car still out there. Though, she may have slipped out with someone else.
Maybe she caught a ride home since the last time he saw her she wasn’t fit to drive as it was. Nor were any of the other females that continued to dance and raise hell the rest of the night. And hell wasn’t the only thing Ivy was raising. Jag had sported a hard-on most of the night as he watched her dance to just about every song Dirty Deeds played. Hard rock, heavy metal, classic rock. She didn’t give a shit. She was letting herself move with the music.
It took everything he had not to grab a handful of that red hair of hers and drag her upstairs to his bed.
As he made his way down the corridor of rooms, he heard grunts, groans and squeals. His lips curled up at the corners and he shook his head as he reached his room. At least a few of the brothers were getting “down and dirty” like their club motto: “Down & Dirty ‘til Dead.”
Though that motto had a deeper meaning than just getting laid, it worked in that respect, too.
He dug deep into his jeans’ pocket and found his key. He let himself into his dark room and hit the light.
Then froze.
There was no mistaking the wild red hair that tumbled over his pillows.
Fucking goddamn Ivy.
He slammed his door closed and slid the bolt lock home before turning to the bed, hands on his hips.
“What the fuck you doin’ here, Ivy?”
When he didn’t get an answer, he stalked to the bed and ripped the sheet off her.
Fuck, she was laying in his bed in just her panties and
a bra.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“You lost?” he snapped.
Her green eyes blinked open in slow motion as she tried to focus on him. “No.” Her answer came out thick and slow and it was not from sleep.
She was smashed.
Once again, she was in his bed drunk as fuck. But this time he wasn’t. Because if he was, he’d be sliding right in next to her to make her pay the rent for taking up space on his mattress.
Like last time.
But tonight he was way too sober for this shit. Her extreme temperature changes set his teeth on edge. Hot one minute, cold bitch the next.
Fuck that.
“All the fuckin’ rooms up here, you had to break into mine.”
“Needed a place to crash,” she mumbled, then stretched her arms out over her head, yawning.
Jag watched as the generous mounds of flesh almost spilled out of her bra. He got to see those amazing tits once. And, for fuck’s sake, he wanted to see them again, but not like this.
He wasn’t doing this shit again.
Nope.
“Too inca... inca... pacitated to drive,” she volunteered. Not that he needed to ask. It was a bit obvious.
“Incapacitated,” he echoed.
She sucked in a deep breath then pushed herself into a seated position, her long fiery hair falling around her shoulders.
He cursed his dick when it started to rise.
“Yeah... Means drunk.”
He frowned. “Know what the fuck it means. How’d you get in here?”
She shrugged sloppily. “Picked the lock.”
She fucking picked the lock.
He wondered who taught her that and how often she’s done it. He shook his head.
She patted the mattress. “You comin’ to bed?”
He bit his bottom lip and dropped his head, staring at his boots as he warred with himself. “Fuck, Ivy. Not again,” he muttered, more to himself than her.
Hell yes, he wanted to join her. But this was not how he wanted her.
He was not making that mistake again.
Last time, even though neither of them were completely sober, he had this mistaken idea that being with him meant something to her.
But it didn’t.
It had meant nothing and she continued to chase every computer nerd, accounting geek, and pencil pusher from Pittsburgh to the West Virginia line.
Down & Dirty_Jag Page 3