“For fuck’s sake, swear that music’s louder than when Dirty Deeds is playin’.” Jag griped, downing a shot of whiskey and wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. He slammed the shot glass onto the bar and as soon as it landed, Hawk filled it up again.
Hawk poured more into his own recently-emptied shot glass then raised the bottle of Jack to eyeball how much was left.
Slade should’ve left, that’s what he should’ve fucking done. He wasn’t needed tonight to bartend or even act as a bouncer since The Iron Horse was closed to the public. He had no reason to stick around.
But he also didn’t want to head over to Heaven’s Angel’s Gentlemen’s Club. He wasn’t in the mood to run into Sierra... Sarah... fuck... Savannah. Whatever.
He’d stayed out of the strip club the last few nights, working late at Hawk’s bar and afterward hitting his rack to catch up on some much-needed sleep.
But, fuck him, here he was, sitting in church drinking with his club brothers whose women were over next door about to get down and dirty with some so-called male exotic dancers.
Man-hos. That’s what they were.
Probably going to be wearing microscopic banana holsters to keep their tiny pricks contained.
Fuck.
He held out his empty shot glass and Hawk splashed some more of the amber liquid into it.
Diesel was on a tear, pacing back and forth behind them, his fingers clenching and unclenching into fists as he muttered to himself.
Slade had to admit, he’d never seen the massive man so bent out of shape before. Well, maybe when that crazy-ass Warrior, Black Jack, snatched Jewel.
“Brother, gotta calm the fuck down. Nobody’s gonna be touchin’ your ol’ lady,” Hawk called out.
“Better fuckin’ not,” D grumbled.
“All those male strippers are gay, anyway,” Slade mumbled, hoping that was true.
“Better be,” Z said, next to him.
“What do you got to worry ‘bout? Your ol’ lady’s already knocked up an’ about to pop,” Jag said. “An’ it was your genius suggestion to let ‘em have this over there.”
Z swung his gaze to his cousin. “Want ‘em runnin’ wild ‘round the ‘Burgh dancin’ an’ drinkin’ an’ who knows what the fuck else?”
“No,” Hawk grunted, slamming the Jack Daniel’s bottle onto the bar top and sliding it down to the other end of the bar where Grizz and Crow sat; Crow nursing his whiskey, Grizzly nursing a beer.
“So glad I don’t got no ol’ lady over there starin’ at some strange,” Crow said into his liquor, then laughed. He turned his head in their direction. “You guys look like a buncha sorry asses.”
“How long’s this thing supposed to last?” Hawk asked Z.
“How the fuck am I supposed to know? Dawg set it the fuck up.”
“Music only just started,” Crow reminded them with a snicker from his stool down the bar.
“Maybe we should all head down to Dirty Dick’s an’ hang with the Knights ‘til this is all over with,” Jag suggested, raking his fingers through his hair.
“Ain’t leavin’ the women here without protection,” D barked.
“Got Jester an’ Coop standin’ outside the front door keepin’ watch,” Hawk reminded him.
The two newest prospects were given the shitty job of standing guard outside the front door of the bar in the cold. Slade was glad he never had to prospect for the DAMC, since he’d done it once already for another club. He’d vowed never to do it again since prospects were treated lower than dog shit. Z had made an exception to him prospecting since Slade helped with some trouble the Warriors brought on the club’s women at a fundraiser the summer before. “Helped” as in knocked a Warrior the fuck out.
“Don’t give a fuck who’s standin’ out there. Ain’t leavin’,” D insisted.
Hawk came from behind the bar and shoved a glass of whiskey at his brother. D took it, downed it in one swallow and shoved the empty glass back at his brother, who whacked D on the back and let the agitated man go back to pacing.
“Gonna pace for the next two hours?” Z asked him.
D abruptly came to a halt, turned his dark eyes their direction and barked, “Fuck no.” He strode around the bar, opened one of the cabinets, and turned on a hidden monitor.
Fuck! Slade forgot D had installed security cameras and a digital video recording system in The Iron Horse. He did it after the Warriors shot up bar during the club’s Christmas party almost three months ago. They had also reinforced the front walls of the bar during the reconstruction, but still... those cameras...
He wondered if the women knew. Probably not. Because Slade worked there almost every night and forgot all about it himself. The cameras were small enough not to be noticed.
“D, don’t know if you should watch,” Hawk warned.
Diesel ignored him and flipped through the feeds until the one that pointed toward the center of the bar came into view.
This was not a good idea. It was like waving a red flag in front of an annoyed bull.
Nothing good was going to come of watching the woman getting all hot and bothered by oiled-up, buff men wearing G-strings while grinding against their women.
Not one damn good thing.
* * *
Diamond’s chair sat in the center of the large circle of women. It was a better turn-out than she’d thought. Kiki, Ivy, Jewel, Sophie, Kelsea, Bella, Jayde, and Ace’s wife, Janice, showed up. As well as Ace’s sisters, Annie and Allie. Even Di’s mom, Ruby, was there. And they couldn’t forget Mama Bear, Grizz’s ol’ lady. Some of the Knight’s ol’ ladies and regular pieces arrived, too, like Magnum’s woman, who, surprisingly, was a tall, pretty blonde named Stacy.
But it was Di’s birthday and tonight she was the center of attention. Kelsea started bouncing anxiously in her chair when the loud, bass-heavy music started.
Di had a flashback of the movie Magic Mike when a long line of hot men, unfortunately still wearing clothes, came running out of the kitchen’s swinging doors.
She sank her teeth into her bottom lip and her nails into her palms to contain her excitement as they all climbed up onto the bar and began to dance in a row.
All the breath rushed out of her as she eyeballed their bodies. Even in clothes, they were clearly not rough and tumble bikers. Hell no, they weren’t. Their hair was neatly trimmed, their faces not at all scruffy and their clean-cut clothes didn’t have oil or grease stains on them. Not at all. There wasn’t one leather vest in the room, either.
And they probably didn’t smell like well-banged pussy.
Hot damn!
She groaned as one at a time they moved to the center of the polished wood bar and stripped down to skin-tight shorts that didn’t leave anything to the imagination. Their skin was tanned and shiny like they had rubbed baby oil all over themselves.
Fuck. She wanted that job.
Even over the loud music, she heard the women behind her whistling, cat-calling and shouting out their encouragement.
Then as one, they ripped off their shorts and all leapt off the bar and began to circle the women, gyrating and thrusting their hips, straddling their laps, touching and rubbing anyone who was willing. Or anyone who held out a dollar bill. Or two.
Then two of the dancers broke off and came right to her. One with dark hair and not a damn tat in sight. And the other a blonde with beautiful green eyes and silver barbells piercing both nipples. She sucked in an excited breath.
Their bodies were perfect, muscles cut, thighs powerful as they danced around her. Di didn’t know which one to stare at first.
Happy fucking birthday to her.
The dark-haired one approached her from the front, while the blond from behind. She was about to be the center of a man sandwich. She couldn’t scrape the smile off her face even if she tried.
She looked up at the dark-haired one. “What’s your name?”
“Robby.”
Di jerked her head toward the blond. “What’s
his?”
“Bobby.”
No fucking way. She was about to be man-handled by Robby and Bobby. Fuck yeah, she was.
A giggle slipped from her. She covered her mouth in shock. She never giggled.
She raised the wad of ones she had in her fist. “What’ll you do for a buck?”
“You’re the birthday girl, right?” Robby asked, his eyes twinkling.
Another giggle threatened to spill out. “Sure am!”
“Then whatever you want.”
Hell, yes! “What’ll you do for a hundred bucks?”
“You.”
Di nodded and beamed up at him. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”
Then Robby was straddling her, grabbing her head and thrusting his groin into her face with the music.
Another giggle slipped out and she sucked in a breath. She wasn’t even drunk, but she was giddy as fuck.
Who would’ve thought having male strippers would be so much fun.
Di tucked a folded dollar bill into her cleavage and without hesitation, Robby pulled it out with his teeth, his breath hot skimming along her skin. Her nipples puckered to hard peaks under her deep V-necked top.
Oh yeah.
Fuck Slade and his statement that these men were gay. That man didn’t know shit. He only wanted to ruin her fun.
Bobby switched off with Robby and the blond began to run his hands all over Di’s body, then he shoved his face into her breasts and motor-boated her.
She let out a squeal of laughter, digging her fingers into his hair to hold him there as long as possible.
When he finally came up for air, she turned her head enough so she could see the other women in the circle all enjoying themselves as the dancers stripped down to their G-strings and were bumping and grinding to the music.
Not one of those women weren’t smiling and laughing.
Not one.
Diamond had to admit, Kelsea had finally come up with a good idea for once.
* * *
“That fucker touchin’ my wife’s belly?” Z shouted, his eyes wide and his face red.
Slade leaned over the bar a little more to see what the club president was freaking out about, but he couldn’t see shit since the monitor was surrounded by Z, Hawk, Diesel and Jag. And that combination of bulk was hard to see through.
Might as well be a brick wall.
However, he could see that their bodies were tense, and Jag had his hands wrapped around the back of his neck, like he was trying to keep his shit together.
“What the fuck,” Hawk muttered as he leaned closer to the monitor. “That... No. He did not... fuck that. This shit’s gonna end.”
D slammed his fist on the counter in front of the monitor. “Fuck that shit!” he bellowed.
Slade slipped from the stool he was sitting on, his gaze meeting Crow’s amused one as he rounded the bar to join his brothers.
“Can’t be that bad,” he said, pushing between Z and Jag. His eyes hit the screen and he froze.
Then he squinted, shook his head to clear it, then looked more carefully at the color monitor.
“Did...” he started, but then his brain exploded from what he was seeing. It looked like one of those gay men was humping Diamond’s face. He only wore one of those tiny banana hammocks in red and he was... Yes, he was thrusting his junk right into Diamond’s face and she was...
Smiling and laughing, her hands wrapped around his ass, encouraging that shit.
No, she wasn’t.
Oh fuck, yes, she was!
And that wasn’t even the worst of it. Another of those gay dudes was behind her, shoving his hands down her shirt and grabbing her tits!
He twisted his head toward Jag. “See what they’re doin’ to your fuckin’ sister?”
Jag’s eyes were glued to the screen as he yelled, “Fuck my sister! See what they’re doin’ to my woman?”
Slade’s gaze swung back to the monitor and he found Ivy, her long red hair twisted up in a dancer’s fist as he tugged her head back and shoved his face into her neck.
Oh fuck.
The worst part was Jag’s ol’ lady wasn’t pushing the guy away. Hell no, she kept waving a dollar bill around, encouraging the man.
The only one that had a lick of sense was Bella as she sat outside the circle just watching, but she was laughing at the chaos going on inside The Iron Horse.
Complete utter chaos.
“Fuckin’ stoppin’ this shit,” D barked, pulling out of the huddle.
“No,” Crow shouted, making everyone freeze. “Don’t do it. Told ‘em you were stayin’ out. Was the deal.”
D’s head swung his direction. “Ain’t gotta woman over there, brother. Don’t got much say.”
“The fuck I don’t. That was the deal, remember? They stay here, they don’t get bothered by any of us.”
“No one said dick ‘bout touchin’,” D bellowed, his eyes a bit wild.
“Also didn’t tell ‘em about the cameras. Want ‘em to find that out right ‘bout now? Think any of you gonna get to enjoy the spoils of this night after,” Crow lifted his chin toward the monitor, “those guys get ‘em all horned up? You go bustin’ in over there, you guys ain’t gettin’ shit but a cold shoulder tonight. Think ‘bout that. Let ‘em have their fun an’ they’ll all be climbin’ onto your dicks tonight an’ ridin’ you hard.”
Slade’s eyebrows raised. That might be the most words he ever heard Crow say at one time.
He turned back to the monitor. Problem was, the rest of the men crowding the monitor would get to enjoy their women all horned up tonight.
Unlike him. He wasn’t getting shit except annoyed.
He ground his teeth as he watched Diamond get pulled from her chair and sandwiched between two dancers. One was dry humping her while the other smacked her ass.
Even though there was no sound with the camera feed, it wasn’t hard to figure out that the fucking bitch was laughing her ass off. Her head was thrown back and she was now grinding against the dancer who was pinned to her front.
His nostrils flared, and he sucked in a sharp breath.
She said she was going to get laid for her birthday. She clearly stated it would be by one or possibly more of those dancers. And by the way she was acting with two of them, she had found her targets.
“Suggest you turn that shit off before you all fuckin’ blow a head gasket,” Grizz growled from the end of the bar.
Hawk shot a look in the old man’s direction. “Don’t wanna see how your ol’ lady’s actin’?”
Grizz tugged on his long, grey, scraggly beard and his eyes crinkled deeply at the corners. “Fuck no. Don’t give a shit. Just know I’m gettin’ laid tonight an’ it’s been a long fuckin’ time. She can do whatever the fuck she wants as long as she ends up with my dick between her legs.”
Crow snorted, lifting his glass of whiskey. “See? Man’s got the right idea. Shut that thing off an’ let ‘em be.”
“Anyone touches that monitor, I’ll break your fuckin’ fingers,” D growled. “Need to know how many lessons my woman’s gettin’ tonight.”
Jag barked out a laugh and moved away from the show, shaking his head. “Can’t watch anymore. Better be right, old man. Ivy better be spinnin’ on my dick like a pole dancer later.”
Grizz waved a dismissing hand toward Jag and grunted.
D glanced down at Slade. “What the fuck you standin’ here for? Thought you gave up the chase on that snatch.”
“Wasn’t chasin’ nothin’,” Slade grumbled.
“Coulda fooled me,” D said, his eyes going back to the monitor. He leaned forward, squinted then stumbled back a step. “Oh, fuck no.”
D spun on his heel and Hawk grabbed his arm, shaking his head. “No, brother, Grizz an’ Crow are right. Promised them. Let ‘em go.”
D swung a meaty paw toward the monitor. “Your fuckin’ woman’s got her face shoved in a man’s junk.”
Hawk took a visible breath and closed his eyes for
a second. “Yep. Saw it. Gonna forget it. Also gonna make ‘er pay for it later.”
D surprised everyone by grinning, something the man hardly ever did. “Yeah.”
Hawk gave him a chin lift and a grunted “yeah” back. Then he grabbed the Jack and poured them both a double shot.
When he was done, Slade grabbed the bottle from him, put it to his lips and let the liquor slide down his throat.
Z snorted. “Looks like someone ain’t done with the chase.”
Slade finished off the remainder of whiskey, hissed out the burn, and swiped his hand over his mouth. “Just commiseratin’ with you all.”
Z snorted again. “Right.”
Slade shoved himself away from the monitor and moved down the bar to where he couldn’t see it anymore. He needed to leave. He needed to get the fuck out of there. He couldn’t watch anymore and couldn’t stand to hear the music thumping.
He closed his eyes and all he could picture was Diamond naked in a bed, sandwiched between those two guys as they were sucking and fucking her.
He ground his back molars and then slammed his hand on the bar.
When he opened his eyes, he saw everyone was staring at him. Some more amused than others.
He wasn’t finding any of this funny.
Jag sat on the stool next to him. “Know she’s my sister, but she can be a fuckin’ bitch.”
“Know it.”
“Long as you know it an’ are prepared to deal with it.”
“Ain’t havin’ to deal with shit.”
“Right,” Jag murmured, running a hand over his jaw. “Got it bad, brother.”
“Bullshit,” Slade spat.
“Recognize it ‘cause I had it bad, too. Fuckin’ Ivy jerked me ‘round for years.”
Slade turned his head to study Diamond’s brother. He was surprised to hear Jag admit that since Ivy and Jag seemed like they were made for each other. Any time they were near each other they were always touching in one way or another.
Jag downed another shot of whiskey. He placed the glass on the bar with care as if he was doing his best not to smash it. “Watched her fuckin’ all kinds of geeks an’ nerds. Drove me to the point of doin’ stupid shit.”
Down & Dirty: Books 4-6: Dirty Angels MC Box Set 2 Page 45