Authors: Jenika Snow
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
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This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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THE OUTLAW’S DIRTY DANCER
The Grizzly MC, 2
Copyright © 2014
Brick could have stayed at the clubhouse and gotten this lap dance for free, but he was in a foul mood, and hanging with the members of the Grizzly MC at the place he called home most of the time didn’t sound at all like a good fucking plan. All he’d do was
his shit down on them, because nothing got past a shifter, and especially not when the men he considered family were of the grizzly bear variety, like him. They would no doubt be able to sense how volatile he really was. He tipped back his beer and swallowed a nice mouthful. He was in the VIP section of the one and only titty bar in Steel Corner, Colorado, and had paid the high price for a private lap dance. The stripper, whose name he didn’t know and didn’t give a fuck enough to inquire about, pressed her big fake tits together and pulled at her nipples until they stood erect. The music she danced to
slow and meant to be seductive, and he was sure she got a lot of guys hard with the act she was pulling, but Brick couldn’t get into the little show.
She straddled his thighs, and when she lowered her pussy to his dick and realized he wasn’t hard, a small frown marred her face. “What’s wrong, big boy?”
He didn’t answer, just tipped back his beer again, but kept his gaze on her face. She wore a lot of fucking make-up and even had on some fake eyelashes. He hated all that shit on a female. Even if her tease wasn’t causing him to get his rocks off, it was still a good place to keep his thoughts preoccupied. She looked at his scar, but Brick didn’t care if she stared. He was a scary motherfucker, and not because he had the long, raised mark down the side of his face courtesy of the now deceased Trick, the former Wolverine MC President. It had been several weeks since Jagger, the Grizzly MC President, had taken out his old lady’s tormentor. But they didn’t talk about that, because Sonya was still trying to move past all of that, and Jagger was doing a fine fucking job of making her recovery smooth. He’d even bought her a little house where the two of them now lived. Brick wouldn’t be surprised if Jagger got her knocked up within the next couple of months. That was the next logical step in their relationship, what with Jagger all pussy-whipped by his old lady, and threatening any poor bastard that even looked at her. Who would have thought the stubborn and mean fucking Jagger would have been so enamored with a human female, and so quickly at that? But Sonya was a fine female that cooked the guys’ dinner and busted their asses in only the best of ways. She was good for their MC President, and good for the club.
“I’m not supposed to do this, but I think you need a little
’ special.” The stripper turned around and slowly started to remove her thong. This particular strip joint didn’t allow full nudity, but that didn’t stop a lot of the girls from helping a brother out, or if they wanted to earn a little extra cash on the side. But Brick wasn’t about to give this stripper a damn thing. If she wanted to spread her cunt for free he was all for it, but if he wanted used up cunt he sure as fuck never paid for it. There were enough club whores for that shit.
She bent at the waist when her thong was removed and spread her legs wide. Her pussy was shaved, and he could see she was wet. But he had smelled her cream as soon as she had approached him in the main viewing area and offered him a private lap dance. She started swaying her hips and jiggling her ass until the cheeks started slapping together. His cock twitched, but even his drunk ass and the sight of all that red, wet flesh couldn’t get a rise out of him. Ever since he had gotten cut up by Trick a couple of years back, he had gone down a darker, deeper hole. But it wasn’t because of the mark Trick had given him for the world to see, or the fact he hadn’t actually fucked a female in far too long. He just crawled inside of himself where no one would bother him. He killed when the time was right, got a little action from the club whores in the form of blowjobs when he was in the mood, but for the most part he handled business. He hadn’t had a warm female beneath him, moaning out his name, and letting him do all the nasty fucking shit he wanted to do, in longer than he was even comfortable admitting.
“Come on, let me see how
you really are,” the stripper said and looked over her shoulder. She kept shaking her ass in time to the music, but he let her do her thing. If she really knew the kind of male he was, the kind of desires he had, she would be running the fuck away from him. Maybe it was because of his shitty childhood, or lack thereof, or maybe he was just born this way? But none of that mattered, because at thirty-eight he was too old to change his ways, and didn’t want to anyway. When he had been screwing chicks, even the club whores, they never complained about the kind of depraved things he wanted to do to them: the bondage, spanking until marks were left on their flesh, and pulling their hair so he had leverage as he pounded them deep, hard, and so rough that they couldn’t walk right. His dick twitched at those thoughts, and when the stripper saw it—thought she was the one to cause the reaction in him—she grinned and turned around. Yeah, she was hairless everywhere. When she came up to him she immediately stated grinding her shaved pussy on his crotch and pressed her breasts close to his face. The music ended a few minutes later, and she got off of him.
“Maybe you want to meet me after I get off at two?” She was putting on her string bikini and glancing at him in intervals.
When she was “dressed” she came back over to him and gave him a seductive smile.
“Sergeant at Arms.
What does that mean?” She reached out, meaning to touch the patch on his cut, but he snatched her wrist in one of his hands before she could make contact. Her eyes widened, and he smelled her fear. Good, that was the smart reaction she should have in his presence. He wasn’t hurting her, but the look he gave was sure as hell letting her know that what she was about to do was not cool.
“It means you don’t fuck with me. Got it?”
She nodded quickly, and he let go of her hand. She could have called over the bouncer for Brick touching her, but she looked semi-smart, and doing that would just piss him off and cause an all-out brawl. She quickly left the room, but Brick stayed there and finished off his beer. Maybe he’d just head back to the clubhouse and score a little club pussy after all. Going back to his apartment didn’t sound all that appealing. He tossed his bottle on the ground and stood. The room smelled like stale beer, sweat, and old ass sex.
When he headed back to the main floor there was a new stripper grinding her pussy and tits on the metal pole. Brick shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and kept his attention on the ground, but the sound of arguing drew his attention. It wasn’t so much the arguing, because he couldn’t care about anyone else’s business. It was the female voice that had his gut tightening and his steps slowing as if they had a mind of their own. Brick turned and stared at the back of a curvy blonde who wore a micro-mini skirt and had the thickest and most luscious legs he had ever seen. Her hips went on for miles, and her pin straight hair brushed the top of her ass crack. Immediately the images of seeing her tied to his bed-frame, with her thick looking hair wrapped around his fist, and her ass spread as he pounded the fuck out of her, slammed into his mind. He wanted her crying from the pain and pleasure he delivered. But he wouldn’t stop, not even if she begged and pleaded. His flaccid dick suddenly sprang forward, and all it had taken was his filthy thoughts about this female, and he hadn’t even seen her face. But even with his dirty lust pounding through his veins, his dick hard enough he could have drilled holes through steel, and the fact for some inexplicable reason he wanted this female more than he had ever wanted a female before, he knew that being with her would only end up breaking her. Brick’s grizzly bear rose up, and a low animalistic growl left him. It seemed like his animal didn’t care that his human side was trying to keep a female he didn’t even know at a distance. He didn’t know what it was about her that had this kind of need drumming through his veins, but it was something he couldn’t possibly ignore, not when it had been far too long since he had felt so … alive.
Darra looked to the side, trying to get one of the bouncers’
, but they were busy trying to get a belligerent drunk away from the bar. Of course this kind of crap would happen to her right when she was leaving for the night, and of course it had to be with an asshole that couldn’t take no for an answer.
“Come on, baby.” He waved a twenty dollar bill in front of her face, and it was so close she felt the slight brush of air when he moved it back and forth. “All I’m
’ for is a little slap and tickle.” He grinned, and his yellow, slightly crooked teeth flashed. “It isn’t like you don’t give guys that all the time.” He eyed her up and down. “You are a stripper, for fuck’s sake.”
Darra had to force herself not to roll her eyes at his words. “I’m
and heading home.” She wasn’t about to correct him that her being a stripper did not mean she was a prostitute. “There are plenty of other girls that can help you out.” She didn’t tell him that twenty bucks wouldn’t get him what he wanted, because it was clear this guy wanted a hell of a lot more than a private lap dance. There
girls at the club that pocketed a little more in exchange for some sexual favors, but Darra wasn’t one of them. In fact, if she didn’t need the money she wouldn’t even be working at this nasty fucking place. But as it was she was new to Steel Corner, didn’t know anyone, and her associate’s degree in business management didn’t help her get shit in this town. Until she could find something better, and more respectable, she wasn’t above shaking her big ass at
, as it was nauseatingly called, because it was always wet and hot, to help pay her bills. The money was surprisingly good, but at twenty-four she didn’t plan on making this her career.
“Oh, I’ll get you off, anywhere you want in fact.” He leaned in an inch, and his rank whiskey breath came right at her.
She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. Of course this prick had been waiting in the shadowed corner, probably biding his time until an unsuspecting woman walked by and he could try to “charm” his way between her thighs. “Not interested.” She went to move away, but he reached out and grabbed hold of her wrist in a bruising grip. She hissed out. “Let the fuck go, or I’ll have the bouncers over here so fast your nuts will retreat into your body.”
’, just give me a little something.”
“No. Now let me go.” But before the guy could do what she said there was a play of expressions that passed across his face.
Darra saw the huge, looming shadow cover the wall behind him. The heat that slammed into her back from whoever had stepped behind her had the hairs on her arms standing on end, and for some reason she just knew it wasn’t one of the club bouncers come to save the day.
“Get your fucking hands off of her.” The voice that came from behind her was so deep, so lethal and frightening, that a shiver raced up her spine.
Darra looked over her shoulder and felt her eyes widen at the imposing man standing right behind her. But he wasn’t just any man. He was obviously in a biker gang given the leather vest he wore and the patches that adorned it. Darra wasn’t an expert in motorcycle clubs, but after living in California the majority of her life she knew some basic things about them. She also had heard things since recently moving to Steel Corner about the outlaw biker club, the Grizzly MC, to know they were a dangerous lot. The patch on his left side said Grizzly, and the patch on his right stated he was the Sergeant at Arms for this particular MC. She knew that his ranking made him a sort of enforcer, and tough at that. She didn’t have to know him personally or hear any rumors about him or his club to know this guy was really fucking scary and deadly.
The guy holding onto her wrist immediately let go, and blood flow started to return to her hand. She turned and looked at the asshole
had brought this on himself, and the expression on his face looked like he might have just pissed his pants. Whoever her knight in shining armor was, he towered over her five-foot-five frame by at least a foot, and the muscles alone, which weren’t even hidden behind his dark clothes and cut, were impressive and intimidating all in the same breath.