Thunder (Hell's Handlers MC 10)

“Hey, there, new patch-in,” a flirty feminine voice whispered in his ear. “Why you sitting here drinking all by yourself?”

He glanced over his shoulder to find Bunny giving him the eye.

“Mind if I sit?” she gestured to the empty barstool next to him.

“Not at all.” Thunder shot her his patented, panty-dropping smile. He was well aware of the power of a charming smile. Hell, he’d worked on the thing for years. On stage, before he revealed his body, that smile drew them in and made the ladies hungry for more. He often heard it was his best feature—even more of a draw than his tight ass, rippling abs, and mobile hips.

As expected, Bunny practically swooned as she slid onto the seat. Who knew if the name was real or a handle, but she wore it well. She looked exactly like the stereotypical Playboy Bunnies ol’ Hugh loved. The ones on the magazines his mother and her friends had used as their Bible back in the day.

“Whatcha drinking, babe?” he asked as he flagged Monty.

Bunny tossed her long yellow-blond hair over her shoulder as she flashed him a glossy-lipped smile. “Well, aren’t you the gentleman. Gin and tonic with two limes.”

“You heard the lady,” he said to Monty.

“Coming right up,” Monty said, with a wink for Bunny.

As Monty set about making her drink, Bunny focused her attention back on Thunder. Her flat, tanned stomach was on full display thanks to a high-necked white crop top. Gave the perfect view of the bunny ears tattoo peeking out from her hip. Denim shorts, so itty-bitty, the pockets stuck out below the cutoff, and knee-high black leather boots completed the look of available and easy sex. She wasn’t an official Handlers Honey but had been hanging around with them lately and would probably become formally affiliated with the club before long.

“How’s it feel?” she asked, voice full of innuendo.

“Hasn’t sunk in yet.” He sipped his drink. “Still kinda in shock, I think. I knew it was coming up, but I had no idea they were votin’ on me tonight. Thanks,” he said to Monty, as the prospect delivered Bunny’s drink.

Monty nodded before moving on.

She giggled then grabbed his hand, immediately placing it on her tit.

Okay…aggressive, this one.

“Well, of course it hasn’t sunk in yet,” she purred. “How can you tell me how it feels, if you haven’t felt it yet?” She arched her back, pushing her tit into his hand, which she still held in place. Then she sucked that bottom lip in and sank her teeth in it.

Not an easy feat, but Thunder managed to avoid rolling his eyes. If she thought this routine new or irresistible, she had another think coming. This was his life. He dealt with a version of Bunny over and over. Every day for years and years. Only once he’d begun prospecting had he taken a step back from that world.

“So…” She dropped her voice to a throaty, sexy level. “How does it feel?”

Fake. It felt like a fake tit. Felt one, you felt ’em all.

“Feels like you’re ready for a little fun tonight.” He could play the damn game like a master.

“I am. Wanna play with me?” She lowered her hand, letting it rest on his thigh. Without any hesitation, she slid her hand up that thigh, straight to his uninterested dick.

Thunder caught her hand just before she discovered just how indifferent he was to this show, then lifted it to his mouth for a lingering kiss to her knuckles. “Babe, you have no fuckin’ idea how interested I am. But, fuck, I need to take a rain check.” It was the truth. Even thoughts of that cute waitress might not be enough to do it for him right then. Huh, second time he’d thought of her in one night.

“Well, that’s no fun.”

Christ, another pouting woman. If he never had to deal with one of them again, it’d be too soon. After dancing for a few hours and having the shit shocked out of him by his new brothers, he was tired as fuck and needed to head home to process the news.

“Sorry, gorgeous. Pretty sure Monty’s off in an hour or so. Heard, he’s a fucking beast in the sack.” He winked, but she missed it, already turning her hungry gaze on the bald, muscular prospect behind the bar.

Easy come, easy go.

As he wormed his way through the crowd toward the exit, Thunder passed by a number of the happy couples that had gotten together since he’d started prospecting. Shell sat on Copper’s lap while they chatted with Jazz and her men. The prez’s hand rested over his wife’s stomach, where their child grew. Whatever the prez just said had Shell’s cheeks turning pink. He laughed, then turned her face to his, giving her a whopper of a kiss.