Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
BLADE/JASON
“Maybe Eve should stay put tonight.” Axel signals for another beer.
I lean my head back on the red leather booth, wondering if he’s right. The conversation we had earlier is still too fresh. I shouldn’t be arguing, engaging with this girl. We’re not a couple, yet the more I’m around her, the more the lines are blurred. The asshole inside me is tempted to have her show up so I can fuck her in the corner since she’s willing to be a whore. But I won’t. I rub my face and look at the stripper in front of us. The music is thumping as Deedee slides into splits. She smiles and slowly pulls her silver G-string to the side allowing us prime view of her waxed pussy.
“Fuck.” I slam my whiskey, ignoring Deedee.
I rub my forehead. “Let’s see, in the last forty-eight hours…”
I tick off her transgressions starting with my thumb. “She’s stabbed Dewey, causing him pain and humiliation.” Then my index. “Gotten in a fight with Dozer trying to defend his old lady.” Raising my next finger, I add, “and she’s a klepto according to Dolly.” I reach for my whiskey. “Why wouldn’t I want her with me tonight?”
“Nice, a klepto.” He nods. “Don’t forget she likes to play with knives.” His sarcasm is thick.
I look past Deedee’s spread legs to the door. We’re at the Pussycat, taking over the VIP section as if we’re royalty. My eyes are like radar, taking in the night crowd that’s filing in. It’s Saturday and this club is one of my favorites. It makes a lot of money and it’s classy for a strip club. The girls are beautiful and the clientele wealthy. Axel and I own it and our manager, Derrick, is a partner too. We gave it a facelift a year ago and it’s paid off hugely. The dive it used to be is transformed into the trendy place for millennials to bring their bosses, wives, girlfriends. The Disciples don’t usually hang out here—it scares the suits. But I needed to get the hell away from everything, meaning the blonde in my bedroom. So here I sit, drinking whiskey with Axel. The whole upstairs is closed tonight for us. A group of about five girls are pouting and flashing the bouncer. Cricket, one of my guys, gives the bouncer the okay and the girls climb the stairs. All of them are wearing dresses that barely cover anything and too much makeup and hairspray.
“Text Edge to keep her in my room tonight. Tell him to make Dewey stand guard as part of his punishment.”
Axel raises a brow, but he pulls out his phone. The girls make it up the stairs and I stand.
“I need to walk around. Where’s Derrick? The lights are too bright on the stage.”
He looks up from his phone at the stage then back to his phone. I know he’s getting ready to lecture me about why men like us don’t have girlfriends. I don’t want to hear it, especially since I can’t seem to get Eve off my mind.
“You want a private dance later?” Deedee twirls in front of me. “Please, Blade, I’ll make it worth your while.”
She pushes her large fake breasts out. Her long blond hair swings past her ass. It’s dyed blue on the ends. She wraps a tan leg around the pole. I’ve fucked her a couple of times. But she started to get clingy and I’ve avoided her since.
“Not tonight, darlin’.” I give her ass a playful swat as I rush down the stairs and through the office door. Only to be greeted by Ox’s white ass thrusting into Lindsey. She’s bent over the manager’s desk moaning like a porn star.
“Christ. Where the fuck is Derrick?”
Lindsey smiles at me. Ox doesn’t even lose his stride and keeps fucking her. “Bar,” he grunts out.
“Finish up.” Shaking my head, I walk to the long black bar with fluorescent pink lights illuminating it. We’re full nude so we can’t sell alcohol, but we do. You have to have the right connections and money.
Derrick, my manager and partner, is instructing a girl on how to use the computer. He’s in his mid-forties and used to be a professional wrestler. You would never know it looking at him now. He wears nothing but Tom Ford suits and designer shoes. But he runs this place with no tolerance for any bullshit. He also brings in a ton of business, making way more than he ever did in wrestling. Plus, he’s someone outside of the club we can trust.
“The lights are too bright,” I tell him. He looks over at me and rolls his eyes.
“No shit. My office is occupied.” I sweep the room and can’t help but smile. The red walls along with the massive number of lights and lasers make the dark stage seem like a show rather than a strip club. The booths and tables along with the chairs around the stage allow for everyone to have an optimal visual of the girls.