Thunder (Hell's Handlers MC 10)

Even with copious amounts of alcohol muddling his brain, he picked up on Mak’s serious take-home-to-mom vibe. Of course, his mom was a prostitute, so…

Those kinds of girls had needs, too. And he couldn’t wait to satisfy hers.

She smiled back, hers seeming much less practiced than his. How come she hadn’t flirted or invited him to her bed yet? Was he losing his touch? Maybe he needed to make his intentions explicitly clear with this one.

Just as he was about to make Makenna an offer she couldn’t refuse, Izzy rushed him from behind. “Okay, hotshot,” she said, drawing the attention of quite a few people around them. “Since it’s been all about you tonight, it’s only fair we get a little something too.” She arched a jet-black eyebrow. “Get your ass up on that bar and give us a show. You’re in for a treat, Mak. This guy can twerk like no other.”

“Wha…I…uh…” Mak blinked, face bright pink.

“Speechless, huh?” he asked with a wink. Probably looked more like he had a tic with the amount of alcohol coursing through him.

When she shook her head and shrugged, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Iz, pretty sure Copper will kick my ass if I start stripping in front of you all.” Though a well-timed strip show with plenty of sultry looks sent Makenna’s way was sure to get the message across far better than drunken words ever could.

This idea had merit.

If his prez was on board.

“Copper has given his full permission for this one time and one time only, to use his words.” Izzy said with a roll of her eyes. “So get your ass up there and give us a treat. It’s my birthday tomorrow, and I wanna see you shake it.”

“Your woman is such a delicate flower, Jig,” Thunder said as Izzy’s ol’ man and baby daddy strode up behind her.

“Don’t I know it.” Jig kissed her cheek and patted her ass, which earned him a scowl. “I find it’s best to give her what she wants.”

With a nod, Izzy said, “He’s smart like that. It’s why I’m so willing to keep his dick happy.”

Mak made a choked sound that had Jig snickering though his eyes had grown heavy-lidded and dark for his woman.

The music changed, and Ginuwine’s Pony blared through the speakers.

“I even picked a song for you.” Izzy did a shit job of masking her laughter. So shitty, in fact, her eyes twinkled, and she snorted, loud, which made Jig laugh.

Thunder rolled his eyes. “Seriously? This is the most stereotypical male stripper song ever. You disappoint me, Iz.” Even as he spoke the words, the beat flowed through his blood, making his hips move in an unconscious rhythm. What could he say? He fucking loved to dance, cliché song, and all.

Izzy shrugged. “Long as you don’t disappoint us ladies, it’s all good.”

By then, they’d drawn more than a crowd. Tipsy women yelled and hooted for him to get his ass on the bar and start dancing. Screw yelled something about being owed for voting his ass in. Though he couldn’t see his horndog of a brother, he had a feeling his woman Jazz and his man Gumby were rolling their eyes.

Thunder peeked over his shoulder to find Mak observing the entire scene with a bit of slack-jawed shock and awe. Oh well, what the fuck? Might as well give her something to really drop her jaw over. She’d be begging for his dick in no time.

They always did.

Lifting his hands in defeat, he glanced at the gathered crowd. “You ladies want a show?”

A round of hell yeahs, and fuck yeses filled the clubhouse along with shrieks and whoops.

“I better not see your tiny fucking dick!” Mav screamed from across the clubhouse.

“You should be so lucky,” he called back, really getting into it now. The years spent entertaining crowds left a substantial mark on him, and he quickly fell into the natural performance role. “All right, ladies, here we fucking go.”

Feeling way soberer than he was, Thunder leaped on the bar in one powerful jump. Without hesitation, he ripped his cut off and tossed it to Mak, who caught it in one hand. “Keep that safe for me, babe.”

She glanced down at the leather in her hands as if she’d never seen a piece of clothing before. Please, as cute as she was, she’d certainly had her fair share of offers. Look at Monty for fuck’s sake. The guy had been practically humping her leg.

“Hey,” he called down to her.

When her pretty blue eyes met his, he lifted his T-shirt and ran his hand down his washboard stomach. Having a good body was the number one job requirement. Even more important than impressive dance moves or charisma.

“This one’s for you, baby.” He winked and spun, snapping his hips with the pop, pop, pop of the music. Within seconds, he’d lost himself in the pounding pulse of the beat. His body moved on muscle memory, no thought necessary, twisting, thrusting, and generally driving the ladies wild. They screamed each time his pelvis popped and shouted how much they wanted to be his goddammed pony whenever he ran his hands over his sweaty torso.