Enough(45)

I shifted in my seat and the glass balls inside me moved. It wasn’t bad, not like on the bike, but it distracted me.

“Lila’s in a category all her own.” The sharp-nosed old lady peered at me. I couldn’t remember her name.

I kept my face blank.

“Being the only biker’s girl. The rest are sheep or old ladies.” Her cold smile chilled me.

“Jayna and Frankie might disagree.” Andi’s voice held definite snark.

And the conversation sped away. Apparently those two girls were hot gossip material. Listening to the conversation, I learned even more about the tricky middle ground of being a girlfriend. The table gave me a list of dos and don’ts while maligning the girls. I almost felt sorry for those two, based on the way these women talked about them.

Do be loyal to one biker at a time—a definite problem and one the two girls were the worst at.

Do show respect and help your guy.

Do serve the club.

The prohibitions were longer.

Don’t act like sheep—again a problem for the two girls.

Don’t act like an old lady. The same lady who started the topic glared at me.

Don’t get too drunk, like vomiting drunk. Specific stories followed.

Don’t do drugs.

Don’t pit bikers against each other.

Don’t stick your nose in Brotherhood business.

Don’t pressure your guy to miss club duties.

Don’t stay in the shadows.

I missed a few, but already the rules stacked up in my mind, so I stood to refill my drink. This sounded like my old life where the men I wanted only wanted me if I followed all the rules. And I’d never been good enough for them. I got the definite impression some of these women didn’t think I’d be good enough for Dare.

But then I remembered Suzie and MJ and most of all, Dare. They made it sound simple. I’d be myself and that had to be good enough or not.

What a liar I am. I’ll kill myself trying to live up to every one of those standards.

Dare headed my way. Thank you, sweet baby Jesus. I needed to escape. He stormed toward me frowning at my cup, and I sighed. Apparently, he’d asked Zayn what I drank.

“Red—” His voice low and rumbly did something to me.

I jumped up. “Hey.” I planted a big kiss on him. “Help me out.” I whispered the words.

He swept me away from the table in seconds and headed for the back entrance we’d used earlier. I stopped him at the swing MJ and I had used.

“I thought—”

“I can wait, a bit.” The balls did have my juices flowing. “You had questions?”

“How did you know?” He scowled at me. “You should’ve told me you don’t drink. Do you want to go home? While I can drive?”

What? Why? “I thought you knew I didn’t drink.”

“Hunh?”

“From Blue’s, I didn’t drink there.” I dug fingernails in my palms. “I’ll go, if you want me to?”

He tipped up my chin. “I’ll be fucked up before the night’s over.”

“Yeah.” I hoped to see him a bit out of control.

“But it’s not fun being the sober one.”

Now I understood. I kissed his cheek and put my mouth to his ear. “I’m batshit crazy sober, bring it, Dare. I can hang.”

Challenge burned in his blue eyes. “Sounds like a dare.”

“Maybe.”

“You know I got my name because I can’t turn down a dare.” His lips twisted in a sensual smile.

“That has possibilities.”

Then we were in the same room again. This time I had enough wits to notice my surroundings. Paneling hung on the wall. Dare backed me onto a full bed with a tired green spread. A dented and scraped dresser stood in a corner across from me. A closet stood half ajar with nothing inside.

He untied my red halter and jerked it down to my waist. His mouth on my breasts, we fell back onto the bed and he moved beside me, biting my nipple while he lifted my skirt. All too soon he’d pushed me over again, relieving the pressure the balls had created.

Eventually we made it back to the party and grabbed food. Ten tables of food made it impossible to try everything. Even so, my plate overflowed, though nothing like Dare’s two heaping plates. We sat down next to bikers I didn’t know. Seats opened up and Gimp and Suzie sat down with us. Gimp’s gaze raked over me and he smirked.

No doubt I had a just-been-fucked look, but at least this time I’d managed not to shout.

“You sure you did it right?” Gimp asked Dare. “She didn’t scream.”

I shoved my mouth full of food to avoid commenting.

Dare chuckled. “I did it right, old man. You need a hearing aid.”

And then they were off in a discussion about ink and guns. Then the conversation switched to drinks. And Dare admitted he was behind.