“I’m ready to tear your balls off and wear them for earrings.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“Gross.” I finish my beer. “Excuse me, ladies.” I push up from my spot.
My asshole biker slings an arm over my shoulder and pulls me into his side. “Fuck, you make me happy.”
“I love you, but you ever do that to me again I’ll cut you off.”
He sticks his tongue out. “How long we talking?”
“It’s not a challenge.”
“We’ll see.”
“Babe, I’m serious.”
“Me too. Got a new restraint that spans from your neck to your ass with a ring at the bottom so I can cuff your hands behind you.”
Warmth pools in my belly at the thought.
He steers me to where Roane is set up doing tattoos. A brother who they call Banks is getting a hundred-dollar bill with wings coming from either side on his forearm. Wouldn’t be my first choice, but it’s not my arm or my man thankfully.
The design Roane did for my tattoo is perfect. It’ll start at the base of my neck and come around the front to dip between my breasts, Holy’s cross and chain, but accented with honey bees.
I pull my hair into a bun and untie my halter
top while straddling a chair. Prodigy gives me a chin lift before ducking out.
My husband stands guard near the entrance of the tent, worried to death someone may see my tits like I didn’t take my clothes off for a living until a few months ago.
The process is a bit tedious, but Roane makes small talk with me telling me about his son Jasper he has with his wife Jules who is pregnant with a girl this time around.
“You and my man here thinking about kids?”
“Maybe. I won’t say never.”
Beni winks at me. “We need to get busy practicing. Lots and lots of practice.”
I roll my eyes and get a small zap from the mini bullet.
I scowl at him. You’d think the damn battery would have died already.
Roane finishes up my tattoo and goes over how to care for it for the next week and wraps my chest.
We rejoin the party right on cue to catch Dimple, a member from the Nashville club take to the stage to perform in his signature rhinestone jumpsuit. When I first saw him on Royal Road, the first thing I thought was he resembles a fat Elvis having no idea that he moonlights as an impersonator.
“Wow,” that’s something you don’t see every day,” I remark.
“The brother can sing.” My man pulls me in front of the stage where we are joined by the rest of the club to enjoy the show.
He goes right into singing, “Suspicious Minds.”
Okay I gotta give it to him. The man can move and put on one hell of a show.
I lean into my man, swaying in his arms to the slow part of the song. His lips meet my temple as he puts a hand down the front of my pants. Heat flashes through me and I gulp, hoping no one is paying attention to us, but then I look at the stage and Dimple stares right at me shooting me a wink.
“I think it’s time we get out of here,” my hubby murmurs in my ear, all husky and sexy.