“Yeah? Wrapped up tight?”
“The only way, brother.” I grinned and watched him hurry away. Scanning the room, no other brothers were visible. Good. I headed for the far corner where a group of prick posers whooped it up. As I approached, the strippers eyed me and hustled away. I stopped one, cupping her tit. “Baby, you don’t want these cocksuckers, you need a real man.”
She gulped.
The lead bastard took my bait. “Go on,” I told her.
She didn’t wait a second to follow my command.
“What did you call me?” The jar-headed dude with a leather jacket moved close.
“Cocksucker.” I grinned, letting him take the first swing.
I ducked, and punched up into his soft gut. He fell back and his friends moved up. I lashed out and the fight was on. Knee deep in posers, I thrashed out, punching and kicking, trying to get the most in before backup arrived. Each punch freed me, but none of it was enough.
Viper showed up first, cursing and buttoning pants as he punched another guy, coming from my back. By the time we’d finished, ten guys lay unconscious and Rebel stood beside Viper and me.
“You fucking set me up.” Viper leaned over, catching his breath.
“Tell me you nutted first.” I eyed him.
He threw back his head with a laugh. “Fuck yeah.”
Chapter Thirty-One: Lila
Spring lurked around the corner, a time for all-new things. After the confrontation in Jericho’s room, I had no more drunken visits, no more biker invitations and no more reason to delay.
I’d set a lofty goal, maybe beyond me. I hoped to date—not fall into bed with someone or go from zero to living together in two weeks. I wanted non-biker men to take me places, and to date several guys before I picked a new one.
Not that I would ever feel the way I did with Dare again, but I wasn’t cat lady material. I missed men, at least in theory, but in practice, nobody I met even created a fizzle of lust.
Friday, a group of friends would help me initiate plan boy toy. First I had to pass one last test. If I could read romance again, I’d declare myself recovered enough to start dating. Hopefully, a lot more cautiously than I’d jumped into relationships in the past.
Friday night I drove to Ardmore with Rachel, needing space from the sickly sweet couples. Avery hitched a ride, saying she might have another way home. She and Rock had started this incognito relationship that they must have decided to take public.
Rachel told jokes the whole way there, and by the time we’d made it to dinner, I was in a terrific mood, and tonight everything felt possible. After dinner we arrived at Variety, a new club that hopefully wasn’t a Brotherhood spot yet. We made our way through the crush of people to where some of our group had skipped dinner to save a table.
After a few minutes of getting organized, the girls headed to the dance floor. The guys stayed behind to drink. I glanced a cute redhead at the bar, working the eye flirt and body twist from the dance floor. He pushed off from the bar, moving toward me, an intense stare on his face. He didn’t break eye contact as he wound through the crowd, heading straight for me.
Once in front of me, he bestowed a full smile before he bent close to my ear. “I’m John. Dance?”
Prickles of anticipation tickled my arms. I rested my hand on his wide chest, body-builder wide, and leaned up to reach his ear. “Lila. I’d love to dance.”
The DJ spun a fast song, and I shook everything my mama gave me. Unfortunately, John wasn’t a great dancer. The next song slowed, and his hands clasped my hips. He gyrated in time with the slower music, his junk brushing my leg. And, I was done.
Dancing done right was intense and intimate, almost like sex with your clothes on, but by no means did that mean to literally dry hump me on the dance floor. I twirled away to Avery, drawing her from a much better behaved dancer toward the ladies’ room. Rachel had disappeared into the crowd, probably in pussy pursuit.
“What?” Avery snorted. “Not into the fuck and twist?” She burst into a laugh at her own wit.
“Not hardly.” I groaned. “He’s so stacked, but terrible on the dance floor.”
We finally made it into the bathroom. I peeled off the cropped jacket, already too warm. Straightening my dress, I was ready to head back to the table. We moved out of the bathroom and ran smack into Glory, who pushed us back inside. Rachel burst in minutes later.
“Are you okay?” I put my hand on her arm.
“Yeah.” She gulped. “Um, they’re here.”
“Who?” Avery crowded in close to Glory.
“Bikers, like six of them.” Rachel growled. “Dare’s here too.”
Fuckity, fuck, fuck.