Another man came up behind her, snaked an arm around her waist, jerked her against him, dry humped her a couple times as he shouted something Reese couldn’t decipher, then he snagged the bottle from her and took a long swig himself. He kept the bottle but pushed the dark-haired, blue-eyed woman away and smacked her ass so hard that Reese could feel the sting. The woman squealed and giggled, pushing at—
“What’s his name again?”
Deacon’s lips twitched. “Whip.”
—Whip’s bare chest, since the man was only wearing a pair of jeans that weren’t even fastened. They hung off his hips, showing off the top edge of black pubic hair and an actual V of muscle that disappeared into the denim.
Reese pursed her lips. She had to admit, they grew bikers hard and healthy in this club. She mentally tossed away all her previous misconceptions about bikers.
Or at least some of those mistaken theories.
When Deacon didn’t answer, she pulled her attention away from the “couple” as Whip dragged a giggling—
“What’s her name?”
“Angel,” came out of him with a snort.
Angel. Right. She was really young and perky, too. A bit on the skinny side, though.
“Is she a sweet butt?”
“Reese.”
She locked gazes with the man standing next to her. “It’s a valid question.”
“Who told you about sweet butts?”
“Who do you think? Certainly not you.” Reese glanced over her shoulder to see where Whip and Angel went. Not far. The younger biker was now sitting on one of the bus benches, no longer wearing jeans, and Angel was riding his cock while drinking the whiskey straight from the bottle. Like a booze guzzling rodeo queen.
“Does she like anal, too?”
His muttered, “Reese,” sounded like a warning. How about that?
“How would you rate her blowjob skills?”
“Jesus fuck,” he muttered.
“A ten out of ten? Does she have the capability of sucking your balls totally dry like a Wet-Vac?”
Deacon sighed and shook his head. “She does all right.”
“So, let me just say, I’ve never been to a party quite like this. Not even in college.”
“This ain’t a party.”
“It’s not? Then what is it?”
“A typical Sunday night after a club run.”
She raised her eyebrows, which reminded her of how messed up her face was. “This makes me feel so much better about my sister being here for the past week.”
“Trip hasn’t approved her sweet butt status yet.”
Reese whacked his upper arm. “That’s not even funny.”
“Neither is you askin’ about anal and blowjobs.”
“Well, don’t you know? I’m sure you guys have some sort of rating system.”
“Yeah, babe, I know. And I know how good Billie gives head and Lizzy and Crystal and all the rest of them. It’s just the way it is.”
It’s just the way it is.
“What kind of woman would want this kind of life?”
He leaned in really close and growled, “One who doesn’t have a stick up her ass. There isn’t one fuckin’ woman here tonight who don’t wanna be here... Includin’ you.”
Reese sucked in a sharp breath. “I didn’t have a choice.” She rather had stayed in Mansfield.
Deacon cocked an eyebrow at her. “Didn’t you?”
“You told me I didn’t have a choice.” Did that just come out of her mouth?
“Woman, when was the last time you did what a man told you to do?”
Reese pinned her lips together.
Deacon lifted a hand. “You don’t need to answer that. Already know the fuckin’ answer. Never. So, don’t fuckin’ tell me I gave you no choice. You’re fuckin’ smart and shrewd. You didn’t wanna be here, you’d find a way to get gone.”
“I did it for my sister.”
“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid, either.” He jerked away from her and rounded the bar. He slapped two glasses onto the shellacked bar top and grabbed a bottle of tequila, pouring a couple of fingers worth in each glass.
“Got vodka but nothin’ fancy like tonic water. Don’t got wine, either. You want some, I’ll make sure it’s stocked for next time.”
“For when?”
“Next time.” He slid one of the glasses in front of her.
What next time? She and Reilly didn’t belong there. This was not their life. They were just here lying low. That was all. As soon as it was safe to go home, she was dragging Reilly out of there as fast as possible.
She downed the tequila in one swallow, then coughed when she tried to breathe. It was almost as bad as the first time she had puffed on his joint back at her house.
Deacon downed his tequila, set his glass back on the bar and filled both of their glasses again. He placed hers back in front of her but kept his hand on it. “Now... you done bein’ jealous?”
She lifted her gaze from his long fingers caging in her drink—the ones that made her come earlier on his bike—and met his deep brown eyes. “You’re mistaken.”
He tipped his head down, not breaking their locked gaze. “Sure I am.” He blinked in slow motion and smiled a smile that instantly made Reese’s panties damp. Damn him. His voice was low and gravelly when he said slowly, “Oh, yeah, I forgot. You don’t need a fuckin’ man... That is, unless he’s fuckin’ you so hard your pussy juice is runnin’ down his fuckin’ balls.”