But life wasn’t only about that.
Hoots and hollers from the direction of the bar made Judge break the kiss but he didn’t pull away. His lips hovered over hers, their breaths mingling as they both tried to slow down their breathing.
Damn, she wanted him. And the evidence he wanted her was pressed against her.
After a few seconds, he grabbed her hand and led her over to the bar where he introduced her to Rook, Easy and Rev, since she had already met Cage. He also introduced the human shot glass, Crystal, who gave her an easy-going smile and a friendly wave as she was still sprawled naked across the bar.
She now had whipped cream covering both breasts with cherries where her nipples would be. Across her stomach someone had also written, “Congratz, Shady fucker,” on her stomach ending with three crooked exclamation points. Another whipped cream arrow pointed to the woman’s shaved crotch.
“Where the fuck is Shade?” Rook yelled drunkenly, a beer raised in one hand, a lit joint in the other, as he swayed on his feet.
Judge snagged the joint from Rook’s fingers and tucked it between his lips. “No fuckin’ clue.”
“Is it Shade’s party?” Cassie asked. She glanced around, too, but had no idea what the man named Shade looked like. Hell, he could’ve been the man in the hallway.
“Yeah, the quiet fucker disappeared a while back and haven’t seen him since,” Judge answered, turning his head to blow the smoke away from her.
He offered the joint to her and she shook her head. She didn’t have anything against someone smoking pot, but she had no clue how it would affect her, since it had been a while since she smoked it and wasn’t prepared to find out tonight.
“Maybe he fell into some really good pussy,” suggested Easy. The lower rocker on the back of his cut read PROSPECT, just like Dodge’s had when she first began working at Crazy Pete’s. Cassie assumed he’d be having a similar party whenever he got patched in.
“Been savin’ Crystal for ‘im,” slurred an obviously well-baked Rook. “Can’t let ‘er go to waste.” He leaned over, sucked one of the cherries off her breast and kissed the woman, transferring the cherry into her mouth. He then ran a finger through the whipped cream until just her nipple was exposed and shoved the cream-covered digit into his mouth, sucking it clean. “Man don’t appreciate the cake we made for him.”
“That looks more like a sundae,” Cassie informed him.
Rook blinked at her for a long moment, then smiled. “Yeah. A fuckin’ sundae. You want a lick?”
“Sorry, I’m lactose intolerant,” she answered, even though she wasn’t. “Nothing personal,” she said to Crystal, who simply shrugged.
Judge snorted, moved behind the bar, slapped two shot glasses on the wood top and grabbed the almost empty bottle of tequila at the end of it. He poured what remained in the bottle into the glasses and came back to where Cassie stood, handing her one. She stared at it in her hand.
She hadn’t drunk tequila since she turned twenty-one and that was in the form of a Tequila Sunrise. Not straight.
Judge leaned close and whispered in her ear, “One shot and we’re goin’ upstairs.”
“Do you really need another shot?”
“What I need is you. So, hurry up and drink it.” He grinned, clinked his glass with hers and upended it, drinking the whole thing down in one swallow.
She followed his lead, put the glass to her lips and downed it all at once, too. Then she held her breath as her insides lit on fire.
“Gotta breathe, baby.”
If she breathed, she would cough. He drank it like it was water. To her it was like swallowing turpentine. She grimaced and blew out a slow breath.
Judge laughed and pulled the glass from her fingers. “’Nother one?”
She surprised him by nodding. He was right, she needed to loosen up a bit and tonight was the perfect time to do it. She had zero responsibilities right now. She didn’t even have to get up for work tomorrow since it was her day off. And if Melanie was willing to stay even longer, she wouldn’t rush out of Judge’s bed when the sun rose.
Once again, she reminded herself she was more than only a mother. She needed time to rediscover herself as a woman. She could do that with Judge. He made her feel like a woman. Feel wanted. Feel beautiful. Even sexy.
She missed that. She didn’t realize just how much until that first night with him.
Shit, that tequila was already going to her head and making her think permanent thoughts about the man who handed her another shot. He had opened a new bottle, but there was no way she was drinking more than two. She’d end up passing out and not getting “her man’s dick.” Or at least remembering that she got it.
That stick up her ass was already loosening up some.
Yep, two double shots were her limit. Any more and she might end up on that bar, on one of those green benches or against the wall down that hallway. Dick over dignity. Dignity be damned.
As she tipped it to her lips and let the liquor slide down her throat and into her already warm belly, her eyes caught on a cut hanging on the wall near the bar.
She handed Judge the empty glass back and moved over to it, sliding her fingers over the worn, dirty leather and patches. It had been attached to the wall with the vest wide open, so the front patches, as well as the back could be seen.
One rectangular patch said Crazy Pete.
Heat pressed against her back as Judge put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them.
She leaned back into him, her head against his chest. “Stella’s father?”
“Yeah, he was an Original.”
“Just like yours.”
“Yeah.”
“Where’s your father’s cut?” Pete’s was the only one she saw displayed on the walls. She wondered why.
He hesitated and when he finally spoke, his voice was rougher than normal. “Wearin’ it. Normally, when a member dies, he gets buried in it. Stella didn’t get home in time to do that with Pete. She was dealin’ with another crushin’ loss. Mine was in prison when he was killed. Had no fuckin’ clue where his cut was ‘til I found it a while later at the old warehouse.”
The warehouse. That had been located on the lot where he followed her the third time they met. The Fury’s old clubhouse.
“What was he in prison for?”
“Murders.”
She turned her eyes up to him, finding his expression grim. “As in plural?”
“Yeah. More than one.”
“Were you ever in prison?” That was an important detail she should know.
“No.”
“Have you ever done anything that could’ve put you there?” When he didn’t answer, she turned to face him directly. “I need you to answer that truthfully.”
“It’s in the past, Cass.”
The blood drained from her face. “But I need to know. I need to know if what you might do in the future would get you arrested. Get you taken from me. From us. It’s already happened once, Judge. I’m dealing with a cluster because of a man who committed a crime that I had no knowledge about and who was also yanked from my daughter’s life because of it. I can’t risk Daisy going through that again.” Hell, she couldn’t risk it, either.