Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 48700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
And the last fucking thing I need is blood spilled in this bar. My manager will fucking kill me if this place gets splashed across the news because of some damn biker bar brawl. And let's be honest…I'm not afraid of much, but Riley Jamison is a different story.
She's about five foot five inches of pure ball-busting terror. And I owe her too much to piss her off lightly.
Anyone else would have listened to my story and kicked my sorry ass right back out the door. After the shit I've done, it's the least I deserve. But not Riley. She listened to what I had to say, asked if that life was over me, and then put a set of drumsticks in my hand and made me famous.
I have what I have because of her.
Including this place.
"You worried about her?" Jessup asks. The question reflects in his blue-gray eyes when he looks over at me.
"Nah. Just curious," I lie, wrapping my fingers around my chilled beer bottle and bringing it to my lips. I take a long pull, still staring at the girl.
Why the fuck is a sweet little thing like her hiding out in a bar full of bikers?
Do I even care? We've all got our reasons for seeking solace in places like this. If she's here, I'm guessing maybe she does too.
I need to mind the business that pays me.
But fuck me. I want this girl on her knees with my dick down her throat. And I don't want to be polite about it. I want my hand around her throat and my teeth in her skin while she's screaming for me to fuck her harder.
I've been thinking about it since I saw her three nights ago. She's tempting. Far too tempting.
It's a fucking problem.
Because there's no fuckin' way this girl is old enough for me. I'm damn near forty. She barely looks old enough to be in my bar. And I don't fuck around.
Nothing good comes from hopping into bed with every willing fan that comes along. Shit. Nothing good comes from getting tangled up with a woman, period. I avoid the hell out of them for a reason. The last thing anyone needs is to be saddled with a motherfucker like me.
But I plunk my bottle down on the bar and stride toward the girl anyway, curious as a motherfucker why she's reading in a topless bar.
"Memphis." Shelby Danvers pops up in front of me, a coy smile on her red lips. She doused herself in body glitter again. The light catches it, making her golden skin sparkle. Even her fucking nipples twinkle.
With blonde hair, big blue eyes and a killer body, she's a knockout; there's no denying it. But she isn't now, nor will she ever be my type. Even if she was, I wouldn't fuck her because she works for me. But she's been on my ass since she started here two months ago.
Frankly, she's on my last goddamn nerve.
"I've been looking for you."
"It's too fucking early in the night for your bullshit, Shelby. Go shake your tits at someone who will pay you to do it."
Her face falls into a pout. Her lips curve down, a touch of disappointment and resentment flaring in her eyes. "You're such a dick. Jesus. I was just coming to tell you that Imogen and Madison are fighting again."
"No, you weren't. You were coming to shove your tits in my face, hoping I'd take you up on the offer," I mutter. "If they're fighting again, tell Venom. He can handle it."
She scowls at me, hot anger flashing in her eyes. "Tell him yourself. I don't know why I still work here. You're a complete asshole."
I chuckle to myself as she stomps away, her ass jiggling in her miniskirt. She's right. I am an asshole to her. But I've been dealing with her shit for the last two months. I tried being polite the first time. It didn't work. That was her one free pass. She should have taken it and fucked off with it instead of continuing to try to climb my dick.
I'm not the kind of motherfucker who gives third and fourth chances. She may think I'm a meal ticket, but I had blood on my hands long before the world knew my name.
The only reason she's still here is because she brings in money. If it weren't for that, she'd have been out on her ass after the second time.
I've got more important shit to do. I don't need her in my face every fucking night, giving me a headache because she wants to flirt with fame.
I wouldn't touch her with someone else's dick. And truthfully…even before the fortune and fame, fucking around wasn't on my list of shit to do. I wasn't a saint, but I was always more worried about escaping than about getting my dick wet. And then all that mattered was surviving.