“Bikers?” I scrunch my nose thinking of the fat smelly bastards that were through here a few weeks back. They were terrible tippers, grabby, and rude. I unzip my bag and pull out my heels.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Crystal dabs a sponge across the bridge of her nose. “But trust.” She thrusts a palm outward in my direction flashing the tips of her neon green nails at me. “I said hot. I know hot. These men are sexy, and they got the paper. I need a good payday. Bruno’s been breathing down my neck.”
At the mention of Bruno is when I see the dark shading under her right eye. The dickhead is always broke.
“You’ve gotta cut loose of him. He’s a user and he hits you.” I know I shouldn’t say anything. It’s not like she will ever listen.
“He’s Dayvon’s daddy. Been with him since I was thirteen. I love him. And yeah, I know he’s a leech but he’s what I got. Period. So, we gonna nail these bikers tonight or what?” She adjusts her boobs in her red sequined bikini style top.
Bruno is a shitbag who knocked her up at fifteen. Who also doesn’t have a job and takes her car all the damn time to do who knows what while Crystal foots the damn bill.
Men like him are why I’m single. Men like my ex-boyfriend, Jackson. Men who think they can play women for a fool. He was nothing but red flags. Caught him in so many lies. He lied about his truck. The fact that he lived with his momma still. I didn’t need to be impressed. I wanted honesty. He only gave it to me because I caught him, but if he would lie about simple shit then what else was he going to lie about? I couldn’t deal with that. Had to cut him loose. Cute or not.
I unzip my hoodie and kick off my sneakers before I shimmy out of my leggings. I could use the extra money. I live on my own and rent here isn’t cheap. Some of the other girls live together to pool resources. I could get a roommate, but I prefer to be on my own. Less drama.
Lord knows there’s plenty of it to go around. I work with some catty bitches.
I dust my shoulders with some body glitter. I toss my shit back in my bag and secure it in my locker. Layla is working tonight, and we all know the whore has sticky fingers. “Let’s go make it rain.” I smirk and slip into my heels, securing the straps around my ankles.
I follow Crystal out to work these bikers and get them into the champagne room. Everyone will tell you there is no sex allowed. It’s the golden rule but on occasion Dirty Tony is known to break rules for personal favors outside the club. Sometimes he hooks us up with side parties and runs security for us behind Lefty’s back. He ever found out how much money was exchanging hands behind his back he’d kill us all. He tries to run a tight ship. Noses clean. No drama. No spouses or lovers allowed while you’re on the floor or the pole.
All it is, is a fight waiting to happen.
I stop off at the bar and get my courtesy shot of liquid courage to loosen me up before I hit the stage for my first set. I bring the glass to my lips and tip it back fast, following with a lemon. My lips pucker every damn time. My skin crackles in awareness. I glance around the dark room searching for the source of the weird vibe I’m getting. Call it self-preservation or intuition. I learned at a young age to always trust my instincts because you can never trust other people.
There’s something to be said about the atmosphere of a gentleman’s club. Dim lights. Hot bodies. Fat wallets. Liquor flowing. Music pulsing through the speakers. Blood pumping fast. Money hungry women desperate for attention and lonely men eager to give both.
I spot a few regulars, but Crystal was right. I clock two biker hotties. Daylight and dark. By that I mean the first guy is tall and broad with light hair. Not my type but hot, nonetheless. The other guy is what I call tall, dark, and deadly. Me-fucking-ow. His gaze meets mine and a shiver courses up and down my spine. The hair on the back of my neck spikes.
The urge to down a second shot hits me. I turn back to the bar. “I need another,” I tell Jazz. She’s on bar duty tonight. She must still be on Lefty’s shit list for getting a little too touchy with a few customers last week.
“You know the rules.” She smirks while pouring me a double.
“You’re a gem.” I knock it back then look back to where the biker hotties were to find them gone. Weird.
No matter. I got an ass to shake and money to make. I see Crystal leading the biker with blond hair and tribal tats to one of the private rooms. Guess that means his friend is all mine.
“Another shot for the beautiful lady,” a voice grates in my ear smoother than butter.
I suck in a breath
and straighten my shoulders. “Thank you.” I meet the gaze of the dark-haired biker. He smiles and my insides go all warm and lusty. He has a great smile. One that seems familiar. “Have we met before?”
“Maybe in my dreams or a past life,” he tells me.
Every cell in my body is aware of him in ways I can’t explain. There’s something about him. Surely, I’d remember him if we’ve met. His hand brushes against my hip and one simple touch sets me on fire. My nipples tingle with anticipation of more.
Jazz places a shot on the bar.
“Bottoms up,” I whisper, wrapping my fingers around the base of the glass filled with what is likely water. Lefty likes us fun but not drunk. I knock it back. My lips pucker as the liquid coats the back of my throat and burns in the pit of my stomach.
“Suck,” the word leaves his lips like a command as he presses a lemon wedge to mine. It’s hard to make out the color of his eyes due to the poor lighting in here.
What is it about this sexy stranger that has me wanting to drop to my knees to suck something else entirely? Our fingers graze and I close my eyes at his touch. The sounds of the club fade away. The music. The men. Everything but his thumb brushing lemon juice from my chin before licking it off the pad. Thoughts of him touching me everywhere and him kissing me consume me until his hand drops and the spell he pulled me under breaks. I put the lemon in my empty shot glass.
“Good girl.” Two words nearly undo me and have me throwing myself at him.
What can I say? I have daddy issues.