by Davida Lynn
He shrugged. “Great question, sugar. What’ve you got?”
My blood surged. “What have I got? I barely pay my rent! Jesus, you think I strip because I love the interaction? You think I’m just such a people person that I get on stage for the thrill?”
Bear laughed out loud this time and turned to Zane. “You picked a real spitfire, buddy.”
I thought that I’d have to pay them money every month for the rest of my life. Was it really the worst thing? They had saved me, after all. They had taken care of my problem. I just wanted them to talk straight for a goddamn minute! Every biker I’d met was a wall that had to be scaled. It was just like talking to Leonard at the strip club. Each question was met with a question, and any answers were like pulling teeth.
I was about to unload on the macho assholes again, but a thought struck me. Even Bear’s smile disappeared when he saw the expression of clarity on my face.
“You want payment? I’ve got your fucking payment.”
Bear looked at me, intrigued by my sudden shift in mood. He waved me along, giving me the wrap it up signal.
I felt the blood rushing through my body. My heart had been jump started by anger, but now it was fueling my idea. It was brilliant, solved my problem, and would hopefully get the bikers not only off my back, but in my pocket.
“All right, Little Miss Ace-Up-Your-Sleeve. Spit it out.” He sounded gruff, but I could see in the old president’s body language that he was intrigued.
I gave in. “Okay, now, hear me out, this idea isn’t exactly—”
“Come on, goddammit!” This time, it was the treasurer. They were getting impatient.
“Buy the Cherry Stem,” I said.
The treasurer turned to Bear. He was incredulous. “Are you listening to this, Bear? What the fuck. The stripper is telling us to buy a strip club.” He turned back to me. “Are you out of your dumb little mind?”
“You watch your goddamn mouth, Gunner. I’ll knock you the fuck out of you say one more ill word about her.” The veins were throbbing at Zane’s neck, and one of the other members was holding him back. I’d never seen such fury from him, not even when he rescued me from Jason.
The treasurer, Gunner, eased off, raising his hands in submission. Bear stood between them, but there was something in his eyes. He looked pleased.
“I’m eager to hear the rest of this one, darlin’.”
I leaned against a metal table behind me. There was the faintest hint that I had the upper hand, and I finally relaxed. “Yes, it’s an upfront cost, but the income could be massive. The owner is a tool, and most of the women hate him. With a decent manager, dancers won’t quit so often. Right now, Leo pays us seventy percent of our earnings.”
Zane was watching me, and I loved him seeing my potential. I loved him seeing every bit of me. I went on. “Lower that to fifty-fifty. The girls won’t be happy when you tell them that, but you’ll make it up to them with the promise of protection. I know these women. Some of the come from rough pasts. All they want is to dance and feel safe.
“I counted nearly twenty bikers out in the main area. We have around twelve regular dancers. Plenty more bikers to escort them home or break up any trouble at the club.”
I knew it was a risky card, but I had to play it, because it was the bow on the present. “I’m sure the Rising Sons have money coming in that is tricky to launder, too. Am I right?”
Gunner put his spider web hand up to his face, letting out a long sigh. When he uncovered his face, he looked to Bear, deferring the answer to the president.
Bear smiled at me in a cocky way. “Let’s say we did. Then what?”
“Then your boys would come in on a Friday or Saturday night with your stolen money. A lovely woman comes out, and they make it rain. The money is untraceable cash being filtered through a legitimate business. Pay the dancer a little more than the usual fifty-percent to pass the money along.”
Even Gunner couldn't deny the brilliance of the idea. “Fuck me,” he muttered.
“Fuck you, is right. Maybe you need a few more women around here like Raven.” I could see it in everyone’s eyes except Zane’s. They didn't like that comment at all. “You could pick the place up for maybe a hundred grand. Nod if you have that much.”
“All right, don’t get too full of yourself, darlin’.” He may have been older, but there was still a youth and strength about him. I had no doubt that Bear could keep even the young bikers in line. If he went for the idea, I was golden.
“It’s not a bad idea, in theory. Tell you what. I’m gonna bring this up and get a consensus. I gotta tell you, though. You're a thinker. Tanner wasn't bullshitting any of us. A hot little piece of ass with a brain? You don't find them too often.” He looked over at my man. “When you do, you better lock that shit down.”
Gunner broke the sweetness. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. She’s got us spending, not earning. Tanner let this bitch play us all.”
I looked to my man, knowing Zane wouldn’t stand for me being put down twice. Before he could do anything about it, Bear swung his fist like a man half his age.
The crack resonated in my ears. Bear landed a solid punch to Gunner’s nose. Blood began to pour immediately. The treasurer sunk against the ovens behind him, but he stayed on his feet.
Bear shook his hand, then cradled it in his other. “Fuck. You got a hard nose, Gunner.”
The treasurer looked up at his president, but didn’t say a word. He knew he’d stepped out of line.
“You also gotta learn when it’s time to shut the fuck up. Apologize, then shut the fuck up.” Bear turned to me and smiled through the pain.
Zane smiled at me, too. He felt completely at home in this environment. I was getting used to it fast. They were foul-mouthed and violent, but they were also fiercely loyal. I could live a life like that. I could live a life like that with Zane by my side.
Gunner looked at me. “Sorry, Jenny. I’ve had one too many shots of whiskey, and I turned into a dumbfuck. Really, no disrespect. Your idea’s pretty solid.” His words were muffled by his hand over his nose.
“No sweat.” I tried to play it cool.
Everyone left the kitchen area, leaving me and Zane alone. I never felt closer to him than I did in that moment.
“Fuck, baby. I mean, that was sheer brilliance.” Before I knew it, Zane had me in his arms. The fear wasn't there; only the sense of satisfaction. I had made him proud, and in the long run, I could make the Rising Sons a lot of money. I knew they’d go for the deal. Zane did, too.
“I was just paying back what I owed.” I had a very cocky smile on my face, and a sexy tattooed biker pulling me against his hard body. Jason was nothing but a distant memory.
When Zane lifted me, I wrapped my arms around his neck and let him. I felt the cold metal on my ass as my short dress rode up my thighs. His hands only brought the dress higher once I was settled.
“You’re so bad!” I whispered, looking toward the door leading out to the bar. Zane turned my chin back to him with a finger and planted a hard kiss on my lips.
Electricity shot through me as his hands touched my thighs. I frantically fought with his belt, trying to pull it loose as he muffled my moans with his tongue. Zane was rough, taking what he wanted. It was like he could read me. He knew I was comfortable, and he knew I was ready to take him again.
“I’ve been dying to fuck you. Seeing you all beat up broke my heart, baby, but then I saw you making me breakfast and I got rock hard.”
I wrestled Zane’s belt off and dropped his pants down. I grabbed his manhood as soon as I heard his jeans drop to the floor. The metal belt buckle on the tile was like a starter’s pistol.
His shaft felt amazing in my palm. I could feel him throbbing as his hands found the zipper at the back of my dress. It came down quickly, and I closed my arms in around my sides to let him slip the dress down.
My strapless bra was off in a second, tossed somewhere out of reach. Zane was devouring me as I stroked his massi
ve cock. I was moaning, and I loved that the music outside was drowning out our sex noises I leaned my head back and relished the feeling of Zane’s lips at my neck. I could feel his stubble, a constant reminder of how manly he was.
I closed my eyes. I heard my man rip the foil packaging, and I knew my senses would go into overload any second.
As Zane pushed in closer to me, I spread my legs. I was dying to feel his body against mine. I wrapped my taut thighs around him, ushering him inside. I cried out when his manhood split me, but my legs didn’t stop. Until Zane was filling me completely, I pulled him nearer and nearer.
He let out a deep groan. His low voice was right next to my ear. “God, your little cunt feels like silk.”
Zane wasn’t gentle. I held onto his neck as he pounded into me. I threw my head back, and any thought of the people in the bar vanished. I was moaning and screaming as he fucked me hard.
I could hear the metal rattling beneath me as Zane entered me again and again. My moans jumped each time his hard, tattooed body slammed into me. When I came, his hand was pressing hard at my chest, his fingers dug into my dark skin. My eyes shut tight, and my mind flashed with brilliant light as he stretched the orgasm out for what seemed like ages.
Just as I was coming down from the powerful orgasm, I could feel Zane ramping up for his own. He was thrusting harder, and his low and gravelly voice was grunting next to my ear. It sounded so sexy.
"Oh, God, baby. Incredible." I could barely get my words out. "Give it to me, Zane."
He didn't need me to tell him what to do. The hot biker was making me forget my real name. I pulled him in with my legs each time, urging him to let that pleasure wash over him. He kissed me hard, his hand at the back of my neck.
I could feel every muscle in his body and every fiber of his being in that moment. Our eyes locked, and I knew it was time. Zane’s body tensed, and he grabbed my ass, pulling me toward him. As he exploded from within, I pulled my legs around him as tight as I could.
He groaned as his body unleashed sizzling pleasure. I held onto him and cooed into his ear. “Oh, God, Zane. Yes. Fill me. Good boy.”
I knew our path was sealed, our futures intertwined. There were a million things I didn’t know, but I was certain of that. The club still confused me, and there was a lot I’d have to learn, but I was happy, and there was no fear.
“You got everything?” Zane called up to me from the parking lot.
I came out from my apartment with one last box. There were some coat hangers sticking out. It was the last box of stuff from my apartment, and there was no order to it. In fact, I Sharpied “Misc.” on the side of it.
I yelled down from the second floor balcony. “I sure as hell hope so. My back is killing me!” I leaned the box on the railing and pulled my apartment door closed for the last time.
“As soon as we get home, I’ll work on that back for you.” I loved hearing him say “home.” It was our home now, after all
I rolled my eyes. “I bet you will. I bet you’ll work on it for about two minutes before I hear your pants drop.”
Zane laughed and popped the trunk of the Mustang. “Come on, babe. Give me some credit. I was gonna go for at least five.”
My man took the last box from me and stowed it away in the trunk. I put my arm around his waist. I smiled; I couldn’t help it. “Well, five minutes. That changes everything.”
“Shut up and get the fuck in the car.” His words sounded stern, but I knew when he was just teasing. I had learned when a biker was actually pissed, and when he was just playing.
It had been two months after the incident with Jason. One month later, The Rising Sons Motorcycle Club became the proud new owners of the Cherry Stem. Gunner was the acting manager at the strip club, and things were running smoother than ever before. I talked the treasurer into keeping Calvin and Darius. They could have been replaced with Sons, but I liked them both, and I thought they deserved to stay.
Profits soared, and we got some higher-quality women working for us. Bear dropped the gruff attitude with me, especially when he found out that the investment would pay for itself in four months.
I was still stripping. I didn’t have to, but the biker club was laundering money through the club, and I was the best candidate to dance while the bills fell. I wouldn't ask questions, because I knew the reason behind it all.
Zane didn't have a problem with me dancing, but he didn't always come to my shows. I didn't blame him. Some weekends, I didn't want to be up until three in the morning, either.
Some weekends, I wanted to wake up around eleven, drag my ass from our bed, and start the coffee. Some weekends, I wanted to fall back into bed, my body resting against my sexy, tattooed, foul-mouthed biker.
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Available Mid-February, 2015
The Rising Sons Motorcycle Club
Chapter One:
Raven grabbed onto the headboard. She’d been with plenty of men in her life, but no one like Gunner. Her face was twisted in pleasure, her eyes rolling back in her head as she rocked on top of him. His large, rough hands were at her waist. Tossed with passion and fury, her jeans were crumpled somewhere on the bedroom floor.
Gunner didn’t waste time taking Raven’s panties off. Instead, he pulled them to the side before forcing himself deep inside her. She had been dying to fuck him ever since becoming a prospect. Raven had stopped herself for fear of becoming just another sweetbutt passed around the club, but now that she was a full-fledged member of The Rising Sons Motorcycle Club, she was free to do whatever she wanted, and at the moment all she wanted to do was ride that hot stallion until she came.
She gripped the wood of the headboard hard as Gunner pounded up into her from below. Her tight white blouse was unbuttoned, her breasts shaking as his powerful body slammed into her. Her mouth was open, but only the occasional gasp of pleasure escaped. Gunner, on the other hand, was grunting and groaning like a caveman taking his prize.
Raven lowered her body, pushing Gunner into the bed. Taking over, she began rocking her hips back and forth, grinding on his cock. Steady again, the taut blonde let go of the headboard and put her hands on Gunner’s muscular, tattooed chest.
She opened her eyes, meeting his. Raven drank in the look that Gunner was giving her. It was deep, dark, and angry like something from an Anne Rice novel. Raven’s open mouth turned into a snarl as she picked up the pace. If she saw sensuality in his eyes, she was doing it wrong. Raven wasn’t sensual; Raven didn’t want romance. She wanted a good, hard fuck and to get ahead. Gunner was the way to do that.
He saw the change in her face right away. Neither of the bikers had any illusions about what was happening between the two of them. Gunner may have been lost in his own pleasure for a moment, but when he saw the expression on Raven’s face, he fully understood why she had come to his house. His body was already on fire, and now a windstorm of fury blew the blaze out of control,overcoming the two of them.
“Oh, you want it hard?” Gunner asked with a wry smile. His hands lowered from the blonde’s narrow waist to her ass. He was prepared to put every ounce of his disdain into his fuck.
Raven dug her sharp fingernails into the biker’s chest. She knew it would spur him on. “I don’t know. You might not be able to handle my version of hard.”