Luck of the Devil (Ravens Ruin MC 2)

“The usual bulldog at the gate is gone tonight,” she says drunkenly. “The new guy just let me slip right in.”

“Take care of that, too,” I tell Ronan as he walks away with the girl. His hand shoots up over his head in acknowledgment.

“You just saved her life.”

I tilt my beer to my lips to hide the smile as Molly presses against my side and the bar a little too close for being in public. She’s going to test every damn limit she can. I can already tell.

“We need a bottle of Jack and a jar of cherries.” I feel her eyes on the side of my face even though she’s speaking to the prospect behind the bar. “With stems, please.”

“Stems?” For the first time since I walked out here tonight, I look over and meet her eyes.

Her smile knocks the breath from my lungs, which isn’t at all a hard thing to do since I haven’t taken a full breath since she left me in my room earlier.

“Xena is going to teach me a few tongue techniques.” Her teeth dig into her bottom lip before she continues. “Help me hone my skills.”

I’m grateful my mouth is empty, because if not, I would’ve spewed beer all over the bar top. My cock tightens against my jeans, and I’m thankful I wore my tightest pair, knowing just the sight of her would test the strength of the fabric.

“What’s wrong, VP?” she taunts as her eyes jerk down and up again. “Xena assures me tying cherry stems isn’t that hard.”

Her emphasis on the last word is intentional, and now I’ll be standing here all fucking night because I won’t be able to stop thinking about her pink tongue working in circles to tie a fucking stem.

“I want your mouth on my fucking cock again,” I hiss with my eyes on the prospect as he rummages around in a cabinet for Molly’s fucking cherries.

“I want your—”

“Here you go.” With perfect fucking timing, Mac slides the bottle of booze and the jar of fruit across the bar.

“Thanks, gorgeous.”

I watch the dead man as his green eyes stay locked on Molly as she walks away.

A fist invades my vision, and blood is dripping from the prospect’s nose before I can blink.

“Quit looking at my fucking sister like that,” TJ snarls as he pulls his arm back.

“I wasn’t,” Mac lies as his hands cover his bleeding face.

Ignoring everything else around him, TJ leans across the bar. Smarter than he looks, Mac doesn’t shy away. Fear doesn’t get you very far in the Ravens Ruin MC, and his courage makes me feel like a complete joke.

“There isn’t a man on earth, much less inside this fucking clubhouse that’s good enough for her,” TJ hisses. “Keep your fucking distance.”

“Yes, sir,” Mac agrees, pulling his hands from his face and nodding his head to strengthen his words.

TJ hits him one more time for good measure before turning his attention to me. His eyes narrow as he scans my body like a psycho.

“What’s different about you?”

“What?” I ask, raising my bottle to hide my nervousness rather than a need for something to drink.

“You seem relaxed.” His eyes narrow even further.

The last fucking thing I feel right now is relaxed. I’m all stocked up on guilt though.

“Did you get laid?”

Choking on my beer, I sputter and cough to clear my throat. He just glares at me, not bothering to pat my back to help me along.

“No.”

“You just have that ‘I blew my load, and all is right with the world’ look on your face.”

His scrutiny is a tangible thing right now, scraping over my skin like the sharpened point of his blade.

“Jacked off in the shower,” I lie. He doesn’t look away, so I dig the hole deeper. “I took a muscle relaxer. The ride back from Detroit nearly fucking killed me.”

Only then does his face change. It’s obvious he doesn’t believe me, but I’ve given him enough to pretend nothing’s going on at least.

“Old man,” he chuckles, now taking the opportunity to clap me on the back. The movement is so abrupt, I nearly drop my beer bottle. “I have some shit to take care of. Keep an eye on my sister. She seems fucking determined to get alcohol poisoning tonight.”

I keep my eyes on the bar until I hear the snap of the front door closing over the din surrounding me.

“I wouldn’t,” Mac warns when I turn around to face the table of drunk girls as each one of them stare intently at Xena’s mouth.

“Mind your fucking business.” Mac’s smarter than I first thought when he busies himself rather than trying to make small talk with me.

After Xena pulls the double-knotted stem from her lips, all the girls nod and smile in wonder before dipping their fingers in the half-empty jar to pull out their own cherry. Molly’s eyes find mine as she dangles the cherry over her perfect fucking mouth. Her tongue, pushing past her red-painted lips, flicks the juice threatening to drip from the bottom. She groans when the juice drops too soon, landing on her chin rather than her tongue, and I grin when her cheeks flush with crimson. I know she’s embarrassed, thinking she fucked up trying to be sexy, but it’s the pureness that really makes my cock even harder. There’s nothing more intoxicating than knowing each touch I’m allowed on her skin is a first. Each time I lick her, taste her, press my fingers to her, I’m the first one to provide her with that experience.