Down & Dirty: Dawg (Dirty Angels MC Book 7)

by Jeanne St. James

  She ignored his reaction, hoping it was good, and turned in place once more, this time facing him when she reached for the top button on her jeans. Once they were loose, she began to tease him by tugging the waistband down one hip to show a little skin, then pulling it back up. She did the same to the other side. Tucking her thumbs into the top of her jeans, she wiggled them down until the top of the sexiest and most expensive Victoria’s Secret panties she owned showed. She circled her hips to the music, then toed her heels off. Taking her time, she revealed her legs little by little until she was bent over, and her jeans pooled at her feet.

  Rising slowly, she dragged her hands up her legs as she did so, then, when she was standing straight up, she punted her jeans away. They went flying and struck him smack dab in the center of his bare chest. With a grunt, he caught them and twisted the denim in his fist.

  She continued to sway and roll her hips as she pushed her blouse off her shoulders. She shook and shimmied until it dropped to the floor, then suddenly feeling much braver—even though she shouldn’t because she was now standing in front of this big biker in just her bra and panties—she decided to up the ante.

  She rocked her hips with exaggeration as she approached him, biting her lip to draw his attention there. And, boy, did it!

  He was staring at her mouth as she stepped toe to toe with him. Being that close reminded her how much smaller she was than him, especially since she was now barefoot. She spun around and backed up until her ass was pressed into his crotch and then she ground it in circles as she bent over to grab her ankles.

  There was no mistaking that she was affecting him and not in a bad way. That hard line in his jeans couldn’t be anything other than what she should expect from a customer during a personal lap dance, so she had to get used to it.

  As she continued to work her ass against him, she reached back and unclipped her bra and let it fall to the floor. When she swung back up as she tossed her hair—she hoped in a sexy fashion—the top of her head cracked him right in the chin.

  He grunted and jerked. She winced at the pain, grabbing her head and crying out, “Ow!”

  His arm snaked around her waist as he held her up. “Fuck. You okay?”

  She tried to turn to face him and put a little distance between them since her ass was still smashed against his searing hot erection, but he wouldn’t loosen his hold.

  “I... I think so. You have a hard chin.”

  “You gotta hard head, woman.”

  She glanced up over her shoulder at him. “Can you let me go?” The heat of his bare chest against the naked skin of her back made a tingle happen in places that have lied dormant for a long time.

  “No, ain’t lettin’ you go. Not ‘til I’m ready.”

  Something about his words made her think there was more behind their meaning than what was at the surface.

  “Aren’t you going to let me finish?”

  “What’s to finish? You’re standin’ in just your panties. You gonna pull them off, too?”

  “If I have to.”

  “Woman,” he said, the impatience thick in his voice. “This ain’t you.”

  “But I did a good job, right? I can feel how well I did.” She sure could. He was no small man. Everywhere.

  “Got the same thing when you were wearin’ those fuckin’ ugly clothes this mornin’.”

  He did? “Is that normal?”

  He grunted. “Yeah, I get hard.”

  “No, I mean over your dancers.”

  “No. Not over my girls.”

  “Am I one of your girls?” she whispered, optimism rushing through her.

  “Nope.”

  All the air fled her as did her last thread of hope. “What did I do wrong this time?”

  “Nothin’. Just ain’t for you.”

  She jerked against the arm that was holding her like a vice against him. “Let me go.”

  She jerked again and when he released her without warning, she stumbled forward. He captured her wrist and pulled her upright before she fell to the floor. Pushing the hair out of her face, she glared up at him. “That’s not your decision.”

  “Sure is.”

  “No, I mean whether this is for me or not. That isn’t your decision.”

  “Yeah. It is.”

  Her mouth gaped open at his sheer bossiness. She snapped it shut. “No! I mean... I’ll find somewhere else... another club.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  She yanked at her wrist. “Why not?”

  He pushed off the counter and pulled her to him. “’Cause other clubs don’t give a shit about their girls like I do.”

  “Right.”

  “Listen, baby girl, this ain’t for you.”

  “So you keep saying.”

  “I’m right. Been doin’ this a long damn time. You’re clearly outta your element.”

  “And you’re wrong.”

  He sighed. Then before she could stop him—like she could stop him—he was pulling her over to the living room. He didn’t release her until after he sank onto the couch. As she stood in between his parted knees, she stared at him in confusion.

  “Show me,” he demanded.

  “Show you what?”

  “Just plunked down five big ones for you to get me off. Gotta get me off without having sex with me. Can you do it?”

  Huh? This wasn’t on any of the videos! “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I thought...”

  “Need money so bad... this is what ya gotta do. Big spenders don’t wanna just see you shake your tits an’ ass. They wanna get somethin’ out of it. Can’t get paid for sex, though. Gotta ride that fine line if you know what I mean.”

  Oh Lord, she knew what he meant. She not only had to turn a customer on but appease him in ways that wasn’t illegal if she wanted to bank a lot of money and do it quickly.

  She closed her eyes and sucked a deep breath through her nostrils to calm her racing heart.

  She could do this. She had to do this. She had no choice but to do this.

  Right?

  “So I can’t touch you?”

  “Can fuckin’ touch me as much as you like, baby girl, but not in a way that could be seen as sexual contact. Means no suckin’, no fuckin’, an’ no jerkin’ ‘em off. They gotta keep their clothes on. Yours are optional. You can touch ‘em, they can’t touch you. They do, dance ends immediately. Got someone right outside the door for each private dance. You yell, they’re bustin’ in there an’ bustin’ heads. Got me?

  She nodded, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth.

  “Damn, baby girl, keep doin’ that an’ you won’t have to do much dancin’. Now do it or get out.”

  She grabbed her phone, which was on the cushion next to him, found another song and hit play.

  Once again, Dawg knew he was going to regret this decision. He shouldn’t have let her into his place. He shouldn’t have let her take her fucking clothes off. And now she stood before him only wearing panties, her tits all up in his face, her blonde hair falling past her shoulders, color in her damn cheeks and biting on that fucking goddamn lip.

  His nostrils flared, picking up her flowery scent.

  He was a stupid fuck. That’s what he was. Why was he putting himself through this torture? Even with the few hours of practice she said she did, she still sucked at it and normally he would never hire someone like her. He wasn’t fucking around when he said she was out of her element.

  And though his brain kept telling him to kick her the hell out and stop wasting his time, his dick kept telling him otherwise. And, fuck, those tits of hers... and that mouth!

  He wanted those pretty little lips wrapped around his rock-hard dick.

  “I can touch you?” she asked again.

  Fuck yes. “Yeah. Just can’t grab my dick with your hands.”

  “But I can touch it with other things?”

  Oh fuck yes. He swallowed the lump in his throat, so he could answer. “Yeah. But don’t g
otta do it, baby girl. Can put on your clothes an’ leave.”

  She shook her head. “No, I want this.”

  His dick kicked in his pants and his balls got tight. Fuck! He wanted this, too.

  “Don’t got all day, baby girl. Gotta get downstairs to work.”

  She nodded, then moved. He slammed back into the couch in surprise when she climbed onto his lap and began to grind her ass against his dick.

  Holy mother fuck.

  “Baby girl...” he tried to say, but it came out more like a moan.

  “Yeah?” she whispered into his ear, brushing her hard nipples against his chest.

  “Fuck, baby girl...”

  “Yeah?” She circled her hips above his. “You like that?”

  Who the fuck was this woman? Was this some sort of trick?

  “Yeah, I like.” And against his better judgment, again, he urged her, “Get me off.” He didn’t think she could do it. She didn’t seem skilled enough. Because of that and because he was a stupid fuck he continued, “Get me off without usin’ your hands an’ I’ll hire you.”

  He heard her sharp intake of breath close to his ear. “Deal,” she breathed as she continued to grind her hot, panty-covered pussy against his lap.

  Her hands roamed over his chest, the pads of her thumbs brushing over his nipples as her hot, little mouth pressed against his ear. “You like that. I feel how hard I make you. I like it, too. I bet you want to taste how wet I am, don’t you?”

  FUCK!

  She did not learn that from a how-to-strip video. No fucking way!

  His dick kicked in his jeans, and the precum leaked out even faster.

  He lost his breath when she whispered, “You want to stick that cock into my hot, tight pussy, don’t you?”

  Jesus fuckin’ Christ.

  He swallowed so he could tell her to get off him, that this was over. He was done because even though he was attracted to her, he didn’t expect her to take him to his knees as much as she was at the moment.

  “Tell me what you want to do to me...” she whispered in her honeyed husky voice. And that just pulled his balls up higher and tighter.

  She might do it.

  She just might make him come in his jeans! He was usually immune to this shit because he saw it day in and day out. But this woman...

  “Tell me,” she urged. “You want to bend me over and smack my ass while you’re fucking me doggy-style?”

  Fuck yes, he did.

  “You want to...” she pressed her lips to his neck and licked down his throat.

  He shuddered before he could stop it. “Fuck, baby girl,” he groaned.

  “Is that what you want to do, big boy? Fuck?”

  She kept rocking on his lap, drawing her hot pussy back and forth over his throbbing dick.

  He was about to blow his load in his jeans.

  His blood deprived brain made him confess, “Yeah, wanna fuck.”

  “Me, too,” she whispered, her breathing shallow, her nipples pebbled hard as they pressed into his bare skin.

  Was she really turned on or just playing? There was no way she wanted him to fuck her.

  His brain started to spin, once again thinking that this was some sort of trap. Blackmail. The Shadow Warriors MC setting him up for a hurting. Something.

  He grabbed two handfuls of her hair and yanked her head back, so he could see her face. Her eyes were shuttered, her mouth parted, and a flush ran from her chest, up her neck and into her cheeks.

  “You turned on, baby girl?”

  “Y-yes.”

  Damn. “You wet?”

  She stopped rocking her pussy against him long enough to lean back and show him the dark line that ran up the center of her panties. The line she traced with her own finger. “Yes.”

  The musky smell of her arousal made his nostrils flare. Fuck!

  “You don’t fuck customers,” he reminded her. And himself.

  No, his girls did not fuck his customers. And Dawg didn’t fuck his girls.

  He had to get her off his lap. Get her dressed. Get her out of his apartment. And he had to do it soon because this was not how an audition was supposed to go.

  Her voice was husky and thick when she declared, “You’re not a customer.”

  “What’re you sayin’?” She needed to spell it out loud and clear what she wanted. He was not ending up in a concrete box for doing something without her A-Okay.

  No pussy was worth that.

  He jerked her hair again, making her concentrate on him as he stared into her unfocused eyes. “Emma, gotta tell me this ain’t a fuckin’ game, an’ you want me to fuck you. Need to say it out loud an’ need to be sure one hundred fuckin’ percent. Got me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?” he barked louder than he should have. But his blood was rushing in his ears, his dick was ready to blow, and his balls were in pain, needing a release.

  “I need you to fuck me,” she whispered, reaching between them and stroking his dick over his jeans.

  What happened to the woman that came to the club this morning? The woman currently on his lap was not her. Not even close.

  “Ain’t on drugs, right?”

  She shook her head, even though he still had a tight grip on her hair. “No.”

  “Ain’t drunk, right?”

  “No.”

  “You wanna fuck me?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  Releasing her hair, he wrapped one arm around her waist, tucked one under her ass and pushed to his feet. He strode down the hallway, kicked open his bedroom door and dropped her onto his bed.

  “Last chance, Emma. Gonna fuck a biker. Don’t want you to regret it afterward. Got me? Don’t wanna be one of your mistakes.”

  “I want this.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, knowing this was a bad idea. But even with his eyes closed he couldn’t get rid of the image of her in the middle of his bed, naked except for those soaked panties, blonde hair wild, eyelids heavy with need.

  “Hurry,” she encouraged.

  Ah, fuck. This was going to go sideways. He just knew it.

  He shoved his jeans down and stepped out of them, then climbed onto the mattress, staring down at the blonde vision sprawled on his bed.

  His fucking bed. A girl-next-door, innocent-looking kindergarten teacher who did not belong there. She was no sweet butt or patch whore.

  He shook his head to try to clear it. “You do this, you ain’t gettin’ this job. It’s either dick or dancin’. Pick one. ‘Cause I don’t fuck my girls.”

  “I need the job.”

  “Think you need dick, too.”

  “Yes,” she hissed. “But I need the job more.”

  “Then we ain’t doin’ this.”

  “No!” she cried and reached out a hand to him. “I need this, too. I swear.”

  “Emma, look at me. Really fuckin’ look.” He rose up onto his knees between her calves, and he flung his arms out wide. “I’m a biker who runs a strip joint. Got tats over the majority of my body. Fuckin’ curse an’ drink an’ sometimes smoke a joint. Don’t make a decision you’re gonna regret later. Like I said, don’t wanna be some bitch’s mistake.”

  She pushed up to her elbows and let her gaze run over his body from the top of his head all the way to his knees. “Dawson, I see who you are. I want this. I’m not asking for anything but this moment.”

  Dawg’s nostrils flared, and he gave her a sharp nod. His eyes dropped to her parted thighs and that telling sign of just how wet she was.

  He wasn’t afraid of much but there was something about this woman that scared the shit out of him. She might not regret what they were about to do, but he might.

  “You touch yourself?” he asked her.

  “Yes.”

  “You get off when you do it?”

  “Yes.”

  He wanted to rip her panties off, but the doubt wouldn’t leave the back of his mind. She needed to do it. Not him. “Panties off. Wanna se
e your pussy.”

  Lifting her hips, she pushed her panties down, then shoved them the rest of the way off with one of her feet. She cocked her knees and spread them.

  He had been fucking wrong. This woman had no bush. Not even close. Smooth pink lips taunted him. And he wanted to tongue that little patch of blonde hair above them.

  “Do you want me to touch myself now?”

  Fuck yeah! “No.” Dawg swore that was the hardest thing he’d ever said in his life.

  But he had something else planned instead, and he was already teetering on the edge. Watching her finger her own pussy would just make him pop a nut before they even got started.

  Instead he asked, “Like beards?”

  “No.”

  “Gonna like ‘em after this.” With that, he dove forward, shoving his face between her thighs. After a quick inhale of her sweet fucking scent, he latched his mouth onto her clit and sucked hard.

  She cried out as her hips shot off the bed. Separating her pussy with two fingers in a V, he ate her like a melting soft-serve ice cream cone.

  She tasted just as good as one, too.

  She was pink, hot, and slick. He barely paid attention to her loud moans and encouragement. Her fingers dug painfully into his hair and she shoved his face deeper into her pussy, grinding her hips against his face until her juices coated his lips and beard.

  Yeah, that was exactly how he fucking liked it.

  Holding her folds open with one hand, he shoved two fingers of the other deep inside her. Fuck. She was tight with just his fingers. When she clamped down around him, he just about lost his load on the bedspread.

  He needed to be inside her, and he needed to be there right now. He plunged his fingers in and out of her a couple more times and with a last lick to her clit, he rose above her.

  “Like beards?” he asked again.

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  A smile pulled at his lips. “This is all gonna be on you, baby girl. Wanna know you want it every step of the way. The minute you don’t want it, we’re stoppin’, got me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Get a wrap outta my drawer.”

  Her head tilted in the direction of the nightstand. “A wrap?” she repeated confused.

  “Yeah. For my dick.”