Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
One by one, he pulled out the name patches of the four souls he had a “word” with. The last one having been just the night before.
Psycho. Prime. Cobra. Bug.
Yeah. The war may have begun.
And fuck if he didn’t start it.
“How ya feelin’, boss?”
“Like shit,” Rage answered Pugsy as he headed behind the bar at Heaven’s Angels. His home away from home. Actually, it was his home since his commute to work only involved a fucking metal staircase out back. “Any fuckin’ coffee?”
The prospect answered, “Shimmer started a pot. Should still be good.”
Good, because he hated drinking bitter tar. And he needed caffeine badly. “She here?”
“In the back.”
That was also good. It was a bonus to have a sweet butt working at the club. She could—and did—pull double duty. Not that some of the strippers wouldn’t put out. Some did. The ones with significant others didn’t.
At least Shimmer was a guarantee.
Even though they weren’t sweet butts, Opal and Cashmere were always up for playtime, too.
“Get me a big mug of coffee and tell Shimmer to get her ass out here.”
“Think she’s gettin’ ready.”
“Didn’t ask what she’s doin’. Told you to get her out here.”
“You got it, boss.” Pugsy shot him a sloppy salute and headed into the back. Rage shook his head when he heard the prospect yelling, “Shimmer! The boss wants you out front!”
For fuck’s sake.
A few minutes later, Pugsy stepped up to the other side of the bar and set down an oversized mug of what looked like black coffee and smelled like Heaven. Rage poured some of it out into the sink, snagged a bottle from under the bar, and filled it to the brim with Hennessy.
He was about to use his finger to stir it when he realized how stupid that would be. He didn’t need to add burns to his existing injuries. Apparently, his brain wasn’t working at full capacity yet.
The coffee would help.
The blowjob would clean out the rest of the cobwebs.
He lifted the mug and stared at Pugsy over the rim of it. “She comin’?” He took a long sip.
The prospect snorted. “Doubt it, but bet you will be.”
He took his mug of “medicine” over to one of the circular, cushioned chairs on the quiet, empty floor by the stage and settled his ass in it.
Food would probably be good, too, but he had his priorities straight. “Pugs, you got any smoke on you?”
The prospect patted his cut before shaking his head.
“Fuck. You sure?”
The prospect checked all of his pockets again. “Don’t got shit.”
“What fuckin’ good are you, then?”
Before Rage got an answer, Shimmer came sauntering out from the back, wearing one of the very tight, revealing dresses she wore when she worked the floor between her sets. Only, she wasn’t wearing her crazy, ankle-breaking stripper heels yet.
Rage snapped his fingers and pointed to his dick. Once she reached him, he asked, “Can you get on your knees in that fuckin’ thing?”
The blonde, wearing too much fucking makeup already, answered, “I don’t want to get it dirty.”
“Your knees or that dress?”
“Both.”
Rage snapped his fingers again, this time over his head. “Pugs, bring over a clean bar towel.”
Without any back talk—one reason Rage had picked Pugsy to work under him—he brought one over and Rage pointed to the floor between his spread boots. The prospect dropped it there and hurried off.
“Problem solved.” Rage took another gulp of coffee as she sank to her knees. The hot liquid hit his gut at the same time the caffeine hit his bloodstream.
He only needed to find a joint and his wish list would be complete.
With a long sigh, he leaned back in the chair, tucking one arm behind his head. “Do your thing.”
He spread his knees wider as she quickly fished his dick out of his jeans. It might be a bit limp, but that would change soon. His eyelids slid closed as she wrapped her lips around his dick and swallowed him all the way to the root.
Fuck yeah.
She went to town, taking his length all the way to the back of her throat. The woman was always in high demand at Church due to her not having any gag reflex.
Oh yeah, she was a pro at head, too.
She also danced well and was super flexible—another reason she was popular with his brothers. She always pushed the limits of what was legal to do on a pole in Pennsylvania, but doing so made her some damn good tips.
A lot of local men had lost a ton of scratch on this woman. Maybe even some marriages. All of them because they thought they had a shot with her.
They didn’t.
As long as she was a sweet butt, she was off limits to anyone not wearing a DAMC cut. And even then, she was only available to full-patched members. They did not share their women with the prospects.