Copper (Hell's Handlers MC 4)

“So let’s all wish a Handlers’ style happy birthday to the big man.”

“Happy birthday, Copper!” everyone yelled.

Mav let out an ear-splitting whistle, and the room grew quiet again. “All right, Copper, here’s to you and here’s to me, and here’s to all the girls that licked us where we pee.”

“Maverick!” Stephanie screeched right before she doubled over with laughter. The rest of the club was split between raunchy comments, groans, and hilarity.

Copper rolled his eyes then glanced to his right. Shell’s sparkling gaze met his, igniting a fire low his gut as she did every damn time he saw her since she’d moved back. Hell, who was he kidding, from the moment she hit eighteen she’d been turning him on and turning him inside out.

She gifted him a small smile that was her unique combo of cute and sexy then lifted her shot glass toward him before knocking it back. Her delicate throat worked as the liquid slid down then she licked her glossy lips, and Copper’s cock defied logic by hardening. Should never have been possible with the volume of liquor in his system, but then his body had never listened to reason when it came to Shell.

She really must have busted her already overworked ass to pull off the party, and the effort was well worth it. Now that Mav’s toast was finished, the music pounded once again, and the partiers were back to doing their thing. Some sucked back liquor at the bar, many danced, and others hooked up in various corners of the clubhouse. Strippers gyrated on tables with crumpled dollar bills dangling from their G-strings. Back in the day, Copper would have been right there with his single brothers gawking and drooling over the writhing bodies, but he’d long since lost his taste for the dancers. However, had Shell not provided them, the boys might have mutinied.

She was no dummy.

Focus still on Shell, Copper found the empty table considered his by the club and plopped into a seat then crooked a finger at her. In response, Shell raised an eyebrow and placed her hands on her hips. Her curvy, leather-clad hips. The action thrust her generous rack forward, only exacerbating Copper’s cock problem. Shit, why couldn’t he tear his gaze away from her? His head buzzed as the latest shot joined the others in making him wasted. Maybe he’d regret it in the morning, but his booze-soaked brain seemed to think Shell was too far away. Copper curled his finger again and laughed when she rolled her eyes but started his way.

Back and forth her hips swayed with each step. How she moved was an effortless call to him that was completely unintentional. Unlike the Honeys, who calculated every glance and every touch to entice and arouse, Shell just breathed, and he wanted her.

Fuck. This was a stupid idea.

The deep purple leather dress she wore clung to her every curve like a second skin. Purple was perfect on her, highlighting the gorgeous Caribbean blue eyes she shared with her four-year-old daughter.

“Feeling good, birthday boy?” she asked with a laugh when she was close enough to touch.

She was the perfect leather-wrapped birthday present and damn if he didn’t want to unwrap her slowly. What the fuck, it was his birthday, he deserved a little treat, didn’t he?

“Sure am. C’mere.” He snagged her hand and tugged her closer. The stilts on her feet were no match for his strength, and she toppled toward him, landing in his lap with a squeak.

Just that tiny feel of her ass against him had his cock straining behind the denim.

“Copper! What are you doing?” Shell held herself rigid, perched at the front of his lap.

That just wouldn’t do. Whether it was the fact he was blitzed, the high from being the party’s man of honor, or that fucking purple dress, the reasons he kept Shell at arm’s length for so long evaporated.

“I said c’mere,” he grumbled, banding his forearm around her small waist and yanking her flush against him. For about ten seconds, she remained still and unyielding, but then he whispered, “Relax, doll,” in her ear and the tension slowly seeped from her spine. That left her soft and pliant in his arms, her back molded to his chest.

“W-what are you doing, Copper?” she whispered.

Christ, she smelled good. Sweet, like fucking birthday cake frosting just begging for a lick.

His head was just cloudy enough to think touching Shell was a good idea. If he’d been clear, he’d have realized this was the most physical contact they’d had since her father was killed and he held her sobbing in his arms. Back then, she’d been eleven and a child, so Copper’s thoughts were pure. Now, well now she’d been all woman for quite a few years, and Copper’s thoughts hadn’t been pure in a long time.