The smell of sex and desperation hits me as I walk through the door, and I grit my teeth. Up on the stage, a redhead hangs from a glossy pole, her legs spread wide open as she works the crowd. Any other time, my cock might harden at the sight, but not tonight—I have a more important mission than getting my dick wet.
“Can I get you anything, handsome?”
My eyes slide up to a pair of tits bursting out of their top as I take a seat in the back, in the dark, enough not to be seen. “No,” I snap, shooing her away as I cut my gaze back to the room.
“It’s a two drink minimum.” She pops her hip to the side as her hand not holding the tray lands there.
“We’ll both have a whisky. Rocks,” College says from next to me, dropping a fifty onto the tray. Tits smirks before sauntering off, furthering my annoyance of being forced into buying something. But my sour mood isn’t because of the drink minimum or the busty cocktail waitress—it’s because of why we’re here in the first place. “Might not want to get us thrown the hell out of here before we get done what we need to do,” he tells me, getting comfortable in the chair.
“Don’t want to fuckin’ be here,” I grumble, shifting back and stroking my hand along the stubble that has grown out considerably.
“Shouldn’t be too long now.” He keeps talking, but I don’t listen. The kid is always trying to fill the space with something. Maybe that was me at one point, but not anymore. Too damn much has come across my path—the path of the club.
The old me walking into this strip club, he probably would have had the waitress with tits the size of her head drop down and give me a blow job in the bathroom. Or maybe waited for the redhead to get done with her set and have her and Tits meet me out back in the alley so I could fuck them both. But that’s not me anymore.
“Here you are. You boys in town for anything special? We don’t get many bikers in this place.” Tits smiles, sweet as syrup, and bends down to place our drinks next to us on the small table between our chairs. My gaze moves back over her. The swell of her paid-for-tits, the plump of her lips, that damn dark hair, so long, I could wrap it around my hand while she smeared that pink lipstick on my cock. Still, I get nothing. Not even a fucking twitch.
“Just passing through, sweetness. Say, we are looking for an old friend. Goes by the name of Silver. Is she working tonight?” College leans in closer as Tits perches her ass on the armrest of his chair.
“Oh, Silver? Yeah. She’s up next.” My gaze snaps to the stage just as the redhead smiles and bows before shaking her ass the whole way backstage. I hadn’t even realized the song had ended. The announcer says something I can’t make out over the hoots and hollers. Grabbing the whiskey next to me, I toss it back in one go, the ice bumping along my lip. I take in a couple pieces and chew them down as Silver walks out onto the stage—no, she fucking sashays. Moves that tight little body in ways that make me want to kill everyone in this place for witnessing. My cock decides to take that moment to find life, and I lean forward and rearrange my dick before taking another couple pieces of ice into my mouth.
“Son of a—”
“Get the fuck outside,” I growl at College, but he doesn’t listen. “Do I need to remind you whose daughter she is?” I snap, making him look my way.
“No. Shit. I’ll be out there. What are you going to do?” He stands and downs his whiskey as he chances one more look at the stage, and I almost punch him in the face. I finish the rest of the ice in my glass before answering.
“I’m goin’ to get the damn princess and drag her ass back home.”