by Jaci J.
“Okay.” See? Easy.
Leaning into me, her tits press into my chest. That shit makes me so goddamn hard I have to take a few deep breaths. Her lips are inches from mine, and I really want to stick my dick in between those plump lips. Don’t get me wrong, I want her to suck my dick, but for the life of me, I can’t keep it out of her pussy. That’s where I always stick it, but it’ll happen soon. I grab her hand and bring it to my lips, taking a nice, big hit off that joint. She smiles and whispers, “Okay, boss.”
****
Pulling back up to the club, I cut the engine, hop off and head in, straight for my room and Lala. I know she’s in there. She doesn’t wander. Opening the door, I find one flawless, long ass leg propped up on the edge of the bed. Her long golden hair is hanging around her shoulders and she’s wearing nothing but a fucking pair of lace blue panties. That’s it. Fuck. I love when she forgets to get dressed.
Those hands are rubbing lotion on her leg, and it’s like a personal show. I can’t help the groan that leaves my throat. She’s a wet fucking dream. I’ve got to close my eyes because that shit is just too much to fucking handle. Once I open them back up, I notice the small bag on the floor by her feet, along with those red ‘fuck me’ heels waiting for her.
“Lala, the fuck ya doin’?”
She doesn’t even look up at me. “Getting ready for work,” she says like I should fucking know. Work? As in strip club work? She better fucking hope she’s got another job I’m unaware of, like working at Subway or some shit.
“You’re shittin’ me, right?” Tilting her head in my direction she looks at me funny.
“No. I’ve already taken off too much time and I have to work.” No?
“You’re not goin’ back. You don’t fuckin’ strip no more.” She fucking laughs. “Something funny?”
“I have to go. It’s my job. I’ve got bills to pay.”
“You need money? I got that shit. Gave your ass a car. Don’t think I won’t throw down for your other shit, too.”
“You didn’t give me a car,” she corrects me. Has she lost her fucking mind? Where the fuck did my sweet and compliant little Lala go? I left a well fucked and happy bitch in my bed, not this… woman.
“I didn’t?” I’m really feeling like I’m losing my shit here.
“No. I told you I’m paying you back.”
“The fuck you are.”
“Whatever, Rampage. Either way, I’ve gotta work.” Bitch just shut me right the fuck down. Lucky for her I just don’t roll over on shit. She wants me to fight her about it? I’m down.
“You’re not goin’. You got shit ass judgment. Last time you left here alone, you got your ass kidnapped and beat the fuck up. You like when that motherfucker hits you?” Instantly I regret my words. I know that shit wasn’t her fault.
“Fuck you,” she spits at me.
Reaching a hand into her bag, she pulls out the car keys and tosses them at me. I take that shit back. She doesn’t toss, she fuckin’ chucks ‘em at me, nailing me in the chest.
“I’m not going to do this with you. I may get my ass beat when I try to stay in one place too long, but fuck you. I’ve been supporting and taking care of myself since I was fifteen years old, motherfucker. I may not be good at anything, but I can dance, and I’m damn good at it. It’s kept me clothed and fed, even kept a roof over my head. I have never asked for, or have been given, anything. I take care of me. You want to hold that car and what happened against me, you do that. You take that fucking car and shove it up your superior fucking ass. We’re done, and I’m out.”
Lala
Damn it. He looks like I slapped him. I wont’ put up with him judging me and what I’ve had to do to make it on my own. I’m not a slut, I’m not a whore. I dance to make money, not fuck men to make it. Standing by the door, he watches me slide on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. His eyes give him away.
“Listen. I know you’re trying to look out for me and keep me safe, and that means more to me then you’ll ever know, but I’ve got a job to do. It’s not great, but I have to take care of me.” And that is the truth. It would be nice to rely on him, letting him sweep me up into his strange, but comfortable life − a life where money, bills, rules, and mean people don’t matter, but that’s just not a reality for me. I can’t depend on that, no matter how great it sounds. I’m a thing to him, a possession ‘til he tires of me. I’ve known this for a while, and I’ve accepted it. In the end, I only have me and I accept that. I don’t care if I hurt his pride, but my shit needs to be taken care of by me.
Grabbing my bag, I take a step toward the door but he blocks my path. Leaning into the doorframe, he stretches that thick arm out, covering my exit. Arching a brow, he dares me to try and leave. Too bad for him, I don’t go down without a fight.
“You’re stayin’ the fuck here.” Jesus Christ he’s like a dog with a bone. He’s not going to let it go.
“I’m leaving.”
“How the fuck you gonna get there?” He dangles the keys between two fingers in front of me. Jackass. Reaching out, I slap the keys out of his hand and watch them fall to the ground by his feet. He growls at me, like I’m the most annoying thing on Earth.
“Still not goin’, Lala.”
Shrugging one shoulder, I tell him, “We’ll see.”
“What if your little friend is there?” He changes tactics. I’m not even sure what he hopes to accomplish by talking about Ryan, other than to upset me. I’m going one way or another. I have to. They have bouncers and I’ve talked to the boss about what happened with Ryan, with some things left out. He’s doubling security for all us girls from now on. “I’ll find a way. If Ryan is there, I’ll deal with it.”
“Deal with it? What, with your fuckin’ face? Let him beat the shit out of you? Next time you might not be so fuckin’ lucky. He might kill you next time.” That stung, hitting a nerve as he screams it in my face, but I push it away. They were only words. He’s trying to scare me into staying here.
“Maybe, but that’s life, Rampage. I can’t stop living it because of him. I stop, he wins.”
“You’re life ain’t fuckin’ worth winnin’ shit over. You stay here and you lose. Big fuckin’ deal. At least you’re still breathin’, babe.”
“I’m going. I know you’re trying to look out for me and I appreciate it, but I need to get to work. In the end… my life, my decisions.”
“We’ll fuckin’ see,” he throws my words right back at me. I won. Well kind of. I’ve still got to come up with a ride, which shouldn’t be too hard, but I made it out the door.
I lied. It was harder than I thought. Rampage’s brothers are a whole hell of a lot more loyal than I ever would have thought. He said, “Not one of you motherfuckers give her a ride outta this club,” pointing right at my face when he said it.
No one gave me a ride. Hell, no one would even talk to me.
“You are such an asshole,” I hiss at him. He’s staring down at me with a smile, looking pleased with himself, like he’s king shit or something.
Throwing those big heavy arms over his chest, he counters, “And you’re still fuckin’ breathin’, so I’ll live with bein’ an asshole.”
Staring him down, I hear it. I hear the rumble of pipes in the distance. Rampage looks at me and back to the door. He hears them too.
“You move and I swear to God, imma tie your fuckin’ ass up.”
“Try me.” Smacking him in the stomach, I dart around him and a chair, hitting the door before he can grab my arm. Throwing it open, Tags looks at me with wide eyes, but smiles. Rampage’s no ride order didn’t reach Tags yet, and after he scared off the cab driver, Tags is my only hope of getting out of here. I know Rampage is coming for me, so I don’t dilly-dally, “Need a ride, Tags. Please.”
Reaching behind himself, he hands me a helmet, “Sure, babe. Where we goin’?”
“Heavens at Eighth.”
****
He�
��s growling at the women. He’s crossing and uncrossing his arms, flexing his fists, then re-crossing his arms again as he sits stiffly in his chair. He glares at all the men, adjusting the gun in its holster constantly. Rampage is genuinely mad as fuck. It lasted ten minutes. Ten fuckin’ minutes before he was chasing me down like a psychopath, showing up with six guys.
He’s sitting in a chair three inches from the stage, trying to block everyone’s view. He’s looking like a hard wall of pissed off man muscle while he silently pouts. Even Sunny up on stage can’t get that scowl off is his face. I only slightly feel bad for him. He’s doing this to himself.
“You gonna let him suffer?” Cali asks, poking her head around the corner.
“He looks fuckin’ miserable, so I say hell yeah. He deserves it,” Lil adds.
“Why the hell you doin’ this in the first place? Not that I’m against women workin’ and supportin’ themselves, but I don’t really like the idea of you workin’ here either,” Cali says. It’s not like I want to be here. This is not my idea of a fulfilling, rewarding job.
“My boss Rick paid last quarter’s tuition. In turn, I dance to pay it back.” My boss is an asshole. He’s a pervert, but whatever he is, he helped me out when things were rough. He also lets me set my schedule and work the busy nights, or take nights off because he knows I’m good to my word. I made a deal with him and I intend to see it through to the end. “I’ve only got a few more nights left, anyway. I’ve paid him back and then some, and still saved enough for my next tuition payment.”
Wiggling my black leather booty shorts up over my hips, I make sure just enough ass is showing to give them a little taste. Snapping the two buttons on my tight, black leather t-backed top right under my tits, I slide on the straps, and I’m done. The front cuts low, dipping to the two buttons, the only thing holding it together. My girls are squeezed up and out of my top. This getup leaves little to the imagination, so it’s what I like to call my tip getter. Sliding on my thigh high boots, I lace up the backs. Running my fingers through my hair, I shake it out and I’m ready.
“One for the road, baby doll.” Molly waves me over. With a little blow, I shake my nerves. Adding my lip gloss, I hit the hall.
This is my song, slow and sexy. The beat is simple and alluring, filled with sex innuendos in the lyrics. This is for Rampage. When I dance, I’ll dance only for him. Tonight I’ve got my muse. Skin beats through the club and I let my body do the talking, giving him a show.
Slowly winding down the pole, I twist my body around it, letting myself fall with little effort. Reaching my hand behind my head, I twist myself upside down and drop to the floor. Giving my ass a good shake before I get back up, doing my thing. I make sure that Rampage is eye fucking me.
Rampage is on the edge of his chair, watching me intently with his elbows resting on his bouncing knees. He’s burning with pure rage, and yes, he’s eye fucking me, just like I wanted him to. My tiny booty shorts are so goddamn wet I can feel it with my hand when I touch myself. He’s drilling holes through me with every move I make. He looks so goddamn mad and it’s making me hot. I have to remind myself that other people can see me, so I keep it reeled in… barely.
My music starts to fade to the next song, and I promised someone else a little fun tonight. Or Nah kicks in, another favorite of mine. It’s something dirty to have fun to. Grinding my body toward the back of the stage, I pull Cali out with me. I can hear Stitch and the guys hollering as soon as her half naked ass is in the middle of the stage with me. This’ll be fun.
I grab around her waist and drop myself to a squat in front of her, my face inches from her pussy. Working my way back up slowly, I run my hands up her thighs, sides, and to her tits. I take a leisurely trip around her body, letting my hands roam. With my body now behind hers, I feel around, letting the guys watch my hands. We give them a motherfucking show. She wanted this, and I can see Stitch is enjoying every fucking second of it.
“You dancin’ out there for me, baby?” Rampage asks with a smirk. Sitting in one of the private VIP rooms, he’s leaning back against a couch, an arm thrown over the back, and a smoke hanging from his lips as I straddle his lap. I gave him his own personal show, which ended with me getting fucked hard, right here.
“If I say no?”
“I’ll fuck a yes outta you.”
“Then no.” A big rough hands lands on my ass with a loud smack. He squeezes my ass and gives it a shake. “Love this shit, ‘n it’s the last motherfuckin’ time anyone’s gonna see it but me. You got me.”
“What about…” His hand covers my mouth and his eyes flare with a challenge.
“Shut the fuck up. Don’t give a fuck ‘bout your goddamn bills. I’ll handle it ‘n you’re gonna let me. I got you, Lala. Now shut the fuck up ‘n show me some more of what you can do.”
“You gotta pay for it.”
Taking a drag from his smoke, he lifts a brow, “Yeah?” Oh yeah.
“Yes.” Giving myself a slow little spin I let him get a good look.
“How much is it gonna cost me?” Leaning forward, he places his elbows on his knees and watches me.
“Too much. More than you’ve got.”
Giving me a chin lift he smirks. “That right?”
“Yep.” I pop the ‘p’ and bend down, running my hands down my thighs to my ankles. “Baby, I’ll pay whatever you fuckin’ want, but remember that shit belongs to me now.” Yes it does.
13
Air Raid
Rampage
No one looks happy. Not that we’re a fucking jolly bunch of assholes to begin with, but today the brothers are looking extra mean. Sitting around our table, brothers wait and stew, grumbling and growling about every fucking thing.
Tank looks tired and stressed the fuck out at the head of the table. Tiny looks annoyed, with his face planted in the books, jerking the pages as he flips them back and forth. Happy looks worried, which is nothing new. We’ve got Spike and Rico, along with a few other new guys leaning against the back wall, acting twitchy and jumpy. They look fired up. Then you’ve got Gin and Stitch, who both look happy as hell. They’re plotting and scheming. Of course this shit would make those motherfuckers giddy.
“Kash gonna live?” Sargent asks, looking grim. The old timer’s take this shit seriously. They’re looking at this as Vietnam all over again, waiting for someone to holler ‘air raid’ so they can duck, cover, and shoot.
“Yeah. Just a busted up arm ‘n some nice road rash. Nothin’ some booze ‘n pussy can’t fix. Assholes ran him off the road. Guessin’ it’s because Mr. Shoot-First-Ask-Questions-Later killed one of their brothers,” Tank shoots off at me.
Still don’t give a fuck. I’d do that shit again in a heartbeat, just wish I would’ve wasted another couple bullets on the other two fucks. Kash’ll live and we’ll make sure he’s well taken care of.
“Don’t give a fuck.” I fire back. Not a goddamn thing about that shit makes me feel bad. You come to my club not wearing your colors, you’re just asking for trouble.
“Figured as much,” Tank shoots back, leaning into is chair.
“Gotta say. I don’t give a fuck, either. Been wantin’ to eradicate those fucks anyway, man,” Gin adds, shrugging his shoulder. “They’ve been fuckin’ with my money, and Rampage’s girl just gave us a better reason to take those fuckers down.”
Lala isn’t the only fucking reason we should kill ‘em all. They’re here in our neck of the woods, running skin − peddling bitches around the world to the highest bidder. They’re using the same goddamn strip joint we found Lala in, as a front. Big fuckin’ mistake. The moment that shit popped up around here, we knew. We’ve been waiting for a good reason to take them out, and they just dug their own graves. They know we don’t fuck around with our money, and we don’t peddle pussy. You don’t kidnap bitches and sell them if they don’t want it. That shit is just fucked up, and I know now that that’s what was going to happen with Lala.
But their final mistake was p
utting Lala up on that stage. They might not have known at first, but they sure the fuck knew when they showed up at our doorstep to collect her. Allowing that little puke associate Ryan to set Lala’s ass up on that stage, trying to sell her off, is just the icing on the cake. Sending their guys here with Ryan was them sending a message, and we got it loud and clear.
“They gotta go,” Stitch says with a serious nod.
“Jesus Christ. You, Rampage, ‘n Gin are three motherfuckers cut from the same goddamn cloth. Always stressin’ me the fuck out.”
I’m not gonna argue that. Anyone, and I mean anyone that wants to mess with our family, that shit is personal. I don’t give a fuck if it’s Lala, Sis, Mary, or one of my brothers. You don’t start shit unless you’re ready to come suited up and ready for war. They knew what the fuck they were doing.
“What about the kids and the bitches?” Tiny pipes up.
“Mary, Kiki and Peaches take the kids up into the mountains,” Tank says. Fuck. At least that’s one less group of people we’ve got to worry about.
“Why not all the old ladies?” King asks, taking a swig of beer.
“The second those motherfuckers see all the women gone, they’ll know what we’re doing. They don’t give a fuck who they take, and if they see the whole lot of women and kids leavin’, they’ll know what the fuck is up and instead of coming for us, they’ll take them. We leave the majority here, they’ll think they are just going on some day trip or some shit and they won’t think nothin’ of it ‘til it’s too late. They’re watching us, so we make things look like business as usual.”
“Sending them alone?” Gin glares at Tank and I swear, Tank looks close to shooting him.
“Wayne, Kash, and a few others will ride up with them. We’ve got Trace, Tyler and Danny, Lil’s uncle, meeting up with them. It’s a five hour trip, so they will be with us for three hours of the trip. If they are followed and someone catches on, it will be too late. They’ll have no choice but to bring that shit to us, here. So no, Gin, not alone. I’m sending Ty with them, so I could beat the living shit out of you for thinking I would send him alone with no protection. You are one stupid motherfucker, Gin. I appreciate the fact you think I would do something so fucking stupid.”
