Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“When you think it’s bad, baby girl, remember, there is someone out there who would give anything for what you have.”
Mama D’s words came back to me, and for the first time in my life, I questioned her wisdom.
1
Liam
Present Day
When I slung open the door to the bar, I’d had to stop at for shelter on my way back to Ocala from Miami, the cool air inside chilled my rain-soaked body. The thunder rumbled louder, and I closed off the storm behind me, wiping what water I could from my cut—not that the leather hadn’t seen its fair share of rain before. Reaching up, I ran my hand over my face and tried to get rid of the droplets clinging to my beard, not that it did much good.
Glancing around, I took in the place. There hadn’t been a lot of options when it got hard to see the road through the downpour. Place wasn’t bad. It wasn’t an actual bar though. It looked more like a pub. A waitress walked by, carrying a tray of food. I wasn’t hungry, but the cheese-covered fries, with what looked like bacon crumbles, were appealing.
The curly-haired waitress turned to me and smiled as her eyes drifted down my body. “You can have a seat wherever you’d like,” she told me.
Too young, darling, I thought to myself as I nodded my head and made my way to the bar. I wasn’t sitting at a table where Miss Barely Out of College could serve me.
The younger they were, the clingier they got. Daddy issues was not for me. I’d learned that lesson the hard way. Besides, I had a daughter who had just turned twenty-five and two grandsons now. For Madeline, my daughter, I chose not to mess around with anyone her age or younger.
I wasn’t a fucking saint. I owned a strip club, and I didn’t include the girls who worked for me in the no-touch zone. If one wanted to suck my dick and I needed it, I let them. Regardless of age. But that wasn’t dating or relationships. It was just club business. A life Madeline wasn’t a part of. She didn’t have to know.
Sitting down on a stool far enough away from another person so I didn’t chance one trying to talk to me, I looked at the whiskey options.
“What can I get you?”
The sexy Southern drawl caught my attention, and I snapped my gaze to the bartender who had just walked up as she slid a cocktail napkin in front of me.
Fucking hell. Long, dark hair was braided and draped over her left shoulder. Brown eyes, the color of warm honey, outlined by thick black lashes. Full red-painted lips. And those big, perfect tits …
Jesus, the cleavage in her tight black tank top made my dick twitch.
“What’s your best whiskey, darlin’?” I asked, giving her a smile that always worked with women.
She glanced back at their selection. “You talking price or taste? Because the two are not the same,” she said, lifting a bare shoulder. The smooth olive complexion didn’t seem like a tan, but the kind of skin tone one had been blessed with at birth.
“Taste,” I replied.
The corner of her lips tugged slightly. “Agreed. One more question: do you prefer rye or wheat?”
“Rye,” I told her.
When the smile finally touched those lips of hers, a dimple appeared in her right cheek.
“Elijah Craig Single Barrel it is,” she said, turning to walk over to the liquor shelf.
My eyes dropped to her ass, and I sucked in a breath. She lifted her arm to reach the bottle, and her tiny waist flashed me, but I couldn’t focus on it because my gaze went back to her round ass. It was the right kind of juicy that would bounce perfectly when she was being fucked.
She turned around, and I jerked my gaze back up to see her eyes narrow as she came back over to me.
“Were you checking out my ass?” she asked.
I rubbed my bearded jaw. “Me and every man in this bar.”
Amusement lit her pretty brown eyes, and she took a glass, then set it in front of her. “Which MC are you a part of?” she asked as she free-poured the whiskey.
“Judgment,” I replied. “What gave me away?”
She nodded her head at my cut. “The leather vest. Patches.” She pushed the glass over to me and studied the patch on front, and then her eyes widened as she straightened back up. “President, huh? Impressive.”
I picked up the whiskey. “You didn’t ask if I wanted ice.”
She smirked. “I’ve been pouring drinks long enough to know a man who looks like you doesn’t want it diluted.”
Unable to help myself, I dropped my eyes back to her mouth, then her set of natural double D’s. She was young. Too young.
A man down the bar called out, and she left me to get him a drink. I turned my eyes and watched her ass and the long, toned legs that were on display. Maybe if I didn’t ask her how old she was, I could take her out of here to the nearest hotel tonight and fuck her. Clenching my jaw, I tore my eyes off her.