by Lane Hart
Chapter Three
Quincey
“Hey!” my best friend Peyton says when she answers the door and throws her arms around me. “I’m so sorry.”
“What am I going to do?” I whine when she lets me go and I trudge into her and Dalton’s house, grateful that she offered to let me stay with them for a while. When I called her earlier and talked to her about what had happened this morning, she had told me to grab my stuff and come on over while I figure out what to do next. “What if I just made a huge mistake?”
“Nah,” she says as we slump down next to each other on her sofa. “At most, it will only be a teeny, tiny mistake,” Peyton adds while holding up her finger and thumb two inches apart and making me laugh.
“True, but I lost my job too!” I exclaim.
“There are plenty of other jobs out there. You’ll see.”
“Ugh, I need one fast. Like tomorrow if I’m going to pay my bills next month.”
“I’ll put out the word first thing Monday to see if anyone around here needs an assistant,” Peyton promises. “Until then, I know exactly what you need.”
“You do?”
“You’ve been stuck in a sexless relationship with a good guy for too long. I think it’s time you give bad boys a try,” she says with a waggle of her eyebrows. “Tonight is Ian Long’s homecoming party at the Savage Asylum. You should come with us!”
“Who is Ian Long?” I ask.
“Dalton’s Savage Kings’ brother. I’ve seen his mugshot, and he is so freaking hot!”
“Hotter than Dalton?” I ask first and foremost, since that’s more important to me than the criminal record aspect at this particular moment in my life.
Peyton considers it silently for a second and says, “My man is sexy as hell, and there’s no one I find more gorgeous than him. But…if Dalton had a beefier, sinister-looking twin, it could be Ian.”
“Okay,” I say as I picture that image. “What was he serving time for?”
“Trafficking marijuana and carrying a firearm as a felon.”
“That’s not too bad. And the previous felony?”
“Ah, just aggravated assault or something when he was nineteen,” she tells me with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“Did he beat up a man or woman?” I ask.
“A man. His father.”
“His father?” I repeat with my jaw dropping.
Peyton nods. “The investigative report said Ian’s father had a history of assault. Social services had received several calls from the school about Ian showing up with bruises, so the guy probably had it coming.”
“Wow,” I mutter. “Maybe he got tired of taking punches and decided to throw a few of his own.”
“Exactly!” she agrees. “Still, they wouldn’t drop the charges because the man had to drink out of a straw for months while his mouth was wired shut.”
“Jeez.”
“Did I mention he’s been locked up for five years? Five years, Quincey! And you knew how horny I was after a year.”
“Does it really count as having sex if you don’t actually feel his dick?” I ask. “If not, then I’ve been having dickless sex for a year, so we’re tied.”
“Was it really that bad, or are you just angry at him for firing you and kicking you out when you broke up with him?” Peyton asks.
“It was honestly that bad. No lie. If anything, I exaggerated while we were together,” I assure her. “Clint is a great guy, but there was no…passion. I’m sure he would be a devoted husband and wonderful father. Am I a bitch for wanting the sex to be good too once in a while?”
“No. Absolutely not,” she says. “If you’re missing passion at the beginning, then that will only lead to regret and problems later on. You did the right thing ending it now with Clint.”
“I’m just so tired of dating nice guys with good jobs who are perfect on paper and disappointing in bed. I need my toes to curl once in a while, you know?”
“Believe me, I know,” Peyton agrees. “And tonight is your chance to hook up with a sexy biker ex-con with years of pent up needs he needs to fill. Could you imagine how horny he’ll be?”
In my pornographic head, I picture a big, angry, tattooed guy walking out of the prison gates and ripping the clothes off the first woman he sees.
“What if I’m not his type?” I ask.
“You’re small, curvy, and beautiful with big boobs and a vagina. What else would a guy need?”
“You think so?”
“I do,” she says with an adamant head nod.
“Fine,” I huff, caving mostly because I don’t want to stay here alone tonight.
“Yay!” Peyton squeals while making fist pumps in the air.
“I need something to help postpone my pity party, and the Savage Kings are all hot as hell. I imagine Ian Long is too. Think he lives up to his namesake?” I joke.
“I really hope you find out. Take pics,” she says while I shake my head in refusal. “Let’s go shopping. You’re gonna need something biker slutty for the party.”
“Biker slutty?” I repeat.
“You’ll get used to it. And the way Dalton ravages me when I wear leather…totally worth it.”
“I’m down for the biker slutty attire,” I agree. “But do you remember me mentioning the fact that I just got fired and lost my apartment?”
“Oh, right. But you know Clint can’t actually fire you for breaking up with him,” she points out.
“I know! That’s what I said!”
“First thing Monday morning you should talk to an employment law attorney and see about filing a wrongful termination case against the US Attorney’s Office.”
“Do you think I have a case? Clint told me that there were numerous times that human resources told him I wasn’t abiding by the dress code,” I tell her with a roll of my eyes.
“Well, if he never told you, then how would you know? They fired you without any notice or warning, and we can’t let them get away with that,” Peyton says.
“Okay. I’ll see about an attorney Monday.”
“Good, and for now, I think I know someone you can borrow an outfit from for tonight. Cynthia is about your size, and she’s been dressing for these boys for years. I’ll give her a call and see if we can come over before the party.”
“Cynthia?”
“Yeah, she got herself a King last year, so she’ll have lots of inside info on how to get you into Ian’s bed tonight.”
“Okay,” I agree. “Let’s do it.”
Chapter Four
Ian
“I’ve got to say,” Torin starts from his seat at the head of the table. “It’s damn good to see this room full again! We’re all glad to have you home, Ian!”
“Thanks,” I tell him as all the guys pound their hands on the Savage Kings’ table. “It’s nice to have my leather cut back. I prefer it to the jumpsuit,” I joke.
“Now that you’ve been welcomed back, we need to get down to business,” Torin says.
“There have been a lot of changes while you were gone,” Chase explains. “For instance, Cooper has given up his position managing Avalon.”
“What the fuck would you give up that gravy job for?” I ask Coop. “All the tits and ass you could ever want, laid out like a buffet right in front of you.”
“I’ve got a wife now,” he says with a grin as he scrubs a hand over his shaved head, the light reflecting off of his wedding band. He still looks strange to me since I’ve only ever seen him with long hair.
“We know you have to have gainful employment within a few weeks of your release, so we were wondering if you wanted to fill Coop’s shoes?” Torin asks.
“Hell yeah,” I respond without hesitation. The more titties the better to help me forget about a certain man’s mouth.
“Can Ian even be around all that alcohol?” that very same man speaks up and asks. “I mean, as part of his probation,” Gabriel adds, but he and I both know why he’s really asking. He doesn’t want me wor
king around a bunch of slutty women or screwing them. Too fucking bad.
“Oh right,” Chase mutters. “You’ll have to check with your probation officer and see if there are any restrictions about the liquor.”
“I’ve got an appointment Monday, so I should know then,” I tell him, refusing to even look in Gabriel’s direction.
“We’ve got one hell of a party planned for you tonight, man,” Miles says. “So I really hope you aren’t planning to abstain from pussy and booze.”
“Definitely not,” I tell him, reaching across the table to offer the former sniper a fist bump.
“We’ll introduce you to Cedric, our prospect, when we get up to the bar,” Torin tells me. “Anything you want or need, just ask him. He’ll be shadowing you twenty-four seven, and he lives here in the clubhouse too.”
“I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” I tell our president.
“Nobody said you did,” Torin responds. “Don’t think of him as a babysitter but as your bitch. Want a burger at midnight? Send the prospect. Need more condoms? He’ll hook you up. Want to punch someone in the face without violating probation? He’s your man. Use him for whatever you need. Got it?”
“Yeah, I’ve got it,” I agree, even though it still sounds like the kid will be watching and reporting everything I do to our pres.
Quincey
“That dress looks perfect on you!” Cynthia, quite possibly one of my new best friends, says when I come out of the bathroom in her leather dress. A few chains are all that connect the opening at the neck and all the way below my belly button. There’s another three inches of leather on the bottom that doesn’t even come to mid-thigh.
“Seriously?” I ask, looking from her to Peyton, who had put on a sexy, red, strapless dress and sky-high heels before we left her house. Glancing down at my breasts that are showing from just the edge of one areola to the other, I say, “My nipples are a half an inch away from falling out.”
“They won’t,” Cynthia assures me. “They’re cinched up nice and tight.”
“It’s just so…revealing. I’ve never worn anything like it before. Everyone will be able to see my stomach!”
“Girl, if you want hot sex tonight, you’ve got to dress hot,” Cynthia says, having heard all about my pathetic breakup over the last hour while I tried on her clothes.
“Okay,” I say with a nod of agreement. “But I’ve been to a Savage King party before, so I know that there are going to be tons of women dressed hot.”
“I’ve got that under control too,” Cynthia replies. “In fact, we better head upstairs before the Kings’ meeting wraps up. Reece said the strippers were gonna arrive around seven.”
“Strippers? Great, I can’t compete with professionals!” I say, throwing up my arms in defeat.
“And you won’t have to,” Cynthia tells me. “My man gave me all of their payments.” She picks up a stack of envelopes and slaps it against a nearby computer desk.
“I don’t understand,” Peyton responds.
“Me either.”
“Let’s fix your hair and then you can come see,” Cynthia says as she pulls up my fluffy curls and ties them up on top of my head. Then, she tugs a few loose spirals down to frame my face and neck. “Perfect and so easy to do! I wish I had your natural curls.”
“Trust me, you don’t,” I tell the redhead.
“Now,” she says with a clap of her hands. “Let’s go see about those strippers!”
Upstairs, the other girlfriends and wives are putting out food and stocking up the bar. We say hello to them before heading outside to the parking lot. A few minutes later, a black stretch limo pulls up.
“Here we go,” Cynthia says when the driver opens the back door and half-dressed women start climbing out.
“It’s like a slutty clown car,” Peyton mutters under her breath, making me chuckle.
“Ladies! Ladies!” Cynthia shouts to get their attention, waving her stack of white envelopes in the air above her head. Like a flock of seagulls, they descend on her. Peyton and I move closer a few steps to hear what’s being said. “There’s been a slight mix up and your services will no longer be needed tonight,” she tells the women who all groan. “But don’t worry. You’re still getting paid!” The energetic redhead starts handing out an envelope to each woman, telling them, “Go treat yourselves to a nice dinner or spend time with your friends and family.”
Once each of the ten or so women have been paid, they file back into the limo. Soon enough it reverses right out of the parking lot and disappears out of sight.
“I can’t believe you did that!” I tell Cynthia. “The guys are going to be so pissed!”
“Oh, they have plenty of money, and this is much better for them in the long run,” Peyton disagrees. “If those men had even looked too long at those ladies, they would be in deep shit with their women.”
“Amen, sister,” Cynthia says before the two high five.
“Still, this doesn’t mean I have a chance. A better chance maybe…”
“Girl, you’ve got this,” Peyton assures me.
“She’s right. All you have to do is look sexy and mysterious,” Cynthia tells me. “And don’t make it too easy for him. They want you to throw them a home run, but they’re not playing softball.”
“Huh?” I ask in confusion.
“Don’t throw yourself at him,” Peyton explains. “Men like the Kings want a chase. They need it because they get women way too easily.”
“Ah, that’s not helping,” I point out. “Based on the photo you showed me downstairs, Ian is hot enough to get any woman he wants tonight or any other night.”
“But most of the women here tonight are taken,” Cynthia replies. “And he’s going to want you. Want me to prove it to you?”
When I nod yes, Cynthia struts back inside in her skin-tight leather dress and goes up to the bar. “Hey, Cedric?”
“Yes, ma’am?” the young, black-haired guy behind the counter asks her.
“Have you met Quincey yet?” Cynthia questions with a wave of her palm to me standing next to her on her right.
“No, ma’am,” he answers. His neck swivels to me and says, “Hi, I’m…” Then, his silver eyes with long, inky lashes fall right down to my breasts and don’t come back up again.
“Cedric,” Cynthia finishes his introduction for him. “I think he may have forgotten his own name there for a second.”
“That’s right,” he says while still staring at my girls and pointing to his chest. “That’s me. Cedric. Can I get you a drink, Quincey?”
“Yes, please,” I reply. “How about a lemon drop?”
“Uh-huh. Coming right up,” he answers before his hands start moving, feeling around for a glass. Finally, he has to look away to fix my drink, but the whole time he’s mixing he’s sneaking not so subtle glances.
“Told you so,” Cynthia singsongs triumphantly.
“I guess we’ll see,” I tell her. “First, I’m gonna need about three more drinks after this one.”
Peyton slaps her hand on the bar and says, “Hurry up and keep them coming, Cedric. Quincey needs to get laid tonight!”
Chapter Five
Ian
“Prospect!” Torin yells when we go upstairs after our meeting. The young, black-haired kid behind the bar sets a bottle of beer down so fast it almost tips over in his rush to get to our president, who is standing front and center in our group.
“Yes, sir?” he asks.
“Have you met Ian Long yet?”
“No, but I drove his bike to the prison for him,” he answers.
“So you’re the one who put that goddamn scratch on my brand-new ride?” I grumble while crossing my arms over my chest.
“What? No, sir!” the kid replies in a rush. “When I washed it, there weren’t any scratches, I swear!”
“I’m just fucking with you, son,” I tell him when I lower my arms to ruffle his black hair. For some reason, the kid kind of reminds me of Gabriel when he
was young and had just started prospecting. I should’ve known then that he would be trouble from the way his puppy dog eyes followed me like his life depended on it. He was a suck up all right, just not the type I expected…
“Where the fuck are the strippers?” Miles asks as we all look around the room. Most of the women present are just old ladies, sidling up to one of the Kings. “They were supposed to be here half an hour ago!”
“Cynthia? Do you know anything about that?” Reece asks the redhead, who is giving him a peck on the cheek.
“Well, would the Kings rather have strippers or get laid tonight? Because you can’t have both,” she answers. There are a few mumbled responses before the topic is completely dropped.
Fuck.
“Well,” Abe rumbles, “that ain’t the party I was looking forward to, anyhow. I’m going out back to get the smoker fired up. I’ve got racks of ribs and chicken waiting to be barbecued, and I don’t trust the prospect not to fuck it up. He was supposed to get it warmed up…” Abe’s grumbles fade as he heads through the bar towards the kitchen.
“Let’s grab some bottles and get cooking!” Torin orders to a chorus of cheers. The rest of the guys seem perfectly happy giving up on the strippers, so I fall in with them and head out into the backyard. There’s a keg sitting in a tub of ice right by the back door that Torin nods to as I come outside. “Bought you a keg of Yuengling. I know you like that shit on tap.”
“Holy shit, man, thanks,” I reply with enthusiasm. There’s a huge mug sitting in the ice by the keg, half frosted and the perfect size for my hand. The keg is already tapped, so I fill the glass until it overflows and down the beer in one long pull. “This almost makes up for the strippers,” I grin at him, wiping beer foam off my lip.
“Wait ‘til you taste my meat,” Abe says as he walks by with an armload of ribs. As he passes, Torin and Chase flash each other a look that only brothers could understand, and both burst into gales of laughter. “What?” Abe protests as he turns around to see what happened. “What’s so fucking funny?”
