“Nope. Just here to party this weekend. A good friend of mine hangs out with the Fury on a regular basis.”
“Like a sweet butt?”
She nodded, with her bottom lip tucked between her straight, white teeth. She needed to practice that look, too.
“But you ain’t?”
“No, right now they have too many of them and not enough brothers to share. If I become a sweet butt I limit myself on who I can hang out with.”
Hang out with.
“Means right now you can fuck prospects but if you were a sweet butt you couldn’t,” he explained, knowing the deal.
“Exactly! I’m assuming it’s the same in your MC.”
“It is.”
“Then you know the rules.”
“I also got a rule,” Crash said.
“What’s that?”
“Don’t do young girls.”
“I’m not that young.” She pouted.
Yeah, that pout settled it. “Too young for me. Appreciate the offer, but right now I’m gonna go stuff my face. Then later I’m gonna find someone a little older to sit on it.”
She removed her hand from his gut and slid it down to his junk, which was still soft and uninterested. “Well, if you can’t find the right one, I’ll be around all weekend.” She did her awkward wink again and then, thank fuck, turned and set her sights on someone else.
He sighed and took himself and his plate over to the bar. And, more importantly, closer to the woman with the husky laugh so he could get a better look. He settled on a stool at the far end and dug into the mound of homemade potato salad. As he chewed his mouthful, he leaned forward a bit, glanced down the length of the bar and spotted her.
She was pouring a draft for someone hanging over the bar, who was not bothering to hide he was staring down at her tits. Her generous cleavage was stuffed into a snug white camisole with a bit of lace along the V-neck. The revealing top was tucked into her jeans and a wide black leather belt that matched her cut encircled her waist.
She was smiling at the man eyeballing her, not giving one shit he was checking out her tits.
Could he be her ol’ man? If not, he couldn’t imagine her ol’ man would appreciate the obvious interest by someone else. Crash knew he wouldn’t. Not if she was his. Nobody would be getting close enough to check out her goods. His goods. What belonged to him.
Yeah, too bad someone already claimed her. Maybe whoever her ol’ man was wouldn’t mind sharing.
He muffled a snort. If her ol’ man was anything like any of the Angels, they weren’t sharing shit. Once his brothers claimed their ol’ lady, she was good and claimed. Nobody was touching or sharing their women. Except with their kids.
As he lifted another spicy as fuck Buffalo wing to his mouth, she appeared in front of him like magic, waving a paper napkin in his face.
“I noticed that you need this.”
He grabbed it from her fingers and swallowed the mouthful, trying not to hiss from the burn. “Yeah? Do I? Think I might need a beer to cool my mouth the fuck down after these wings.” He wiped off the sauce from his messy fingers and his burning mouth. He was going to need more than one damn napkin.
“I made those wings.”
He cocked one eyebrow. “You did?”
A slow smile crossed her face and she nodded. “Can’t handle a little heat?”
“Baby, I can handle a shitload of heat. How ‘bout you?”
“The hotter the better,” she said with a wink that was certainly nothing like that other girl’s. It came more naturally with her. And was a fuck of a lot more sexy.
“’Til the next mornin’,” he murmured.
“Oh, are we still talking about chicken wings?”
His gaze dropped to her name patch on the front of her cut. “Lizzy,” he murmured.
“That’s me,” she stated cheerfully. “I’ll grab you a beer. Don’t go anywhere.”
He wasn’t planning on it.
She was no twenty-one year old. More like early thirties. It wasn’t her face that showed her age, but he could see it in her light-brown eyes. She had some experience behind her. She wasn’t young, dumb and needing an education. She was at the point in her life where she could be the teacher.
He liked that.
He like that a lot.
What he didn’t like was what he saw when she turned to head down the bar to grab his beer. The cut she wore looked just like the ones the ol’ ladies wore, only her top rocker stated: “Property of,” and the bottom said: “Blood Fury MC.”
He frowned. What the actual fuck?
Continue Crash’s story here:
mybook.to/DAMC-Crash
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Also by Jeanne St. James
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Brothers in Blue: Marc *
Brothers in Blue: Matt *
Teddy: A Brothers in Blue Novelette *
Brothers in Blue: A Bryson Family Christmas *
The Dare Ménage Series:
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Daring Proposal *
Dare to Be Three *
A Daring Desire *
Dare to Surrender *
A Daring Journey *
The Obsessed Novellas:
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Forever Him *
Only Him *
Needing Him *
Loving Her *
Tempting Him *
Down & Dirty: Dirty Angels MC Series®:
Down & Dirty: Zak *
Down & Dirty: Jag *
Down & Dirty: Hawk *
Down & Dirty: Diesel *
Down & Dirty: Axel *
Down & Dirty: Slade *
Down & Dirty: Dawg *
Down & Dirty: Dex *
Down & Dirty: Linc *
Down & Dirty: Crow *
Crossing the Line (A DAMC/Blue Avengers Crossover) *
Magnum: A Dark Knights MC/Dirty Angels MC Crossover *
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Guts & Glory Series:
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Guts & Glory: Mercy *
Guts & Glory: Ryder *