Thunder (Hell's Handlers MC 10)

To these ladies, he was damn good fantasy fodder, but not a single one of them would ever want a man like him on their arm at their next charity gala. To them, he was nothing more than a dirty biker and a male whore.

“It’s too bad you’re not working at You’ve Got Male anymore. We all miss your headlining act.” She batted her false eyelashes as she stepped closer and ran a perfectly manicured fingernail down his sweaty chest.

His dick didn’t so much as twitch.

“I hear ya, babe. Just couldn’t swing the hours with my club commitments.” That was the truth. Working at Zach’s gym was great, really. Daytime hours, no one grabbing his ass, a regular salary. He loved it, but on a slow night when he’d been at YGM, he came home with an extra five hundred in cash. Though a rockin’ boss, Zach sure as hell wasn’t paying him that much. Still, he’d had to decide which club meant more to him because he couldn’t swing both.

The Handlers had won out.

Easily.

Lisa pouted, projecting that glossy lower lip out in a move he’d grown immune to somewhere around the thousandth time it’d been used on him. Probably before he’d turned nineteen.

“You know,” she said, as she traced a tattoo on his right pec, “I’m in the mood to keep having fun. How about you?”

Thunder bit back a sigh. He could really use the extra Benjamins she’d slip in his hand if he laid down and let her ride out her boredom. His dick’s disinterest in her didn’t mean shit. He’d spent enough time around professionals to know just how to get and keep it up no matter who was on the receiving end of his cock. After a few romps fucking women he had no interest in, he’d learned to disappear inside his head. To conjure up a vivid fantasy and fuck through it. All he had to do was call up an image of someone who tripped his trigger, and he’d be good to go for as long as necessary. Like that cute little waitress Toni had hired last week.

She was goddammed adorable.

There wasn’t a soul in the club who’d believe he got hard for the plain Jane type, but after spending his entire life around prostitutes, strippers, and women sporting clubwear, he’d lost all interest in the painted-up party look. No, the cute, reserved, hardworking waitress was just the type he’d like to sink his dick into.

Look at that, he was hard.

And he was due at the clubhouse in exactly seventy minutes. At least an hour of that he’d spend on the road. So he really didn’t have time for so much as a few thrusts with Lisa.

“Shit, babe, you know I’d love nothing more, but I gotta roll. I’m expected at the clubhouse soon.”

“Oh, boo.”

If that damn lip jutted out any farther, she’d be able to clean her eye makeup off with it.

“Next time, babe. Promise.”

Her face brightened. “Oh, that’s in two weeks when you dance for Betty’s bachelorette party.”

Betty being a forty-five-year-old shrew on her fourth marriage.

He winked. “Yes, ma’am. See you then.” Lisa might be an annoying, stuck-up bitch, but she loved his act and hired him for the countless inane parties she wasted her life planning for her vast social circle. Worked for him. Even though he didn’t have time to dance at YGM anymore, he did plenty of private events as a side hustle.

“Bye, Thunder.”

As he walked away, she let her fingers trail down his torso, accidentally grazing his dick. Luckily, he was still half hard from thinking about the waitress. He had a rep to uphold, after all. Of course, Lisa assumed the chub was for her, and she hummed her approval.

He’d be a fool to correct her and lose that money train, so he just winked and strode out the door of the hall she’d rented out for the event.

Once outside in the crisp air, he finally took a cleansing breath. Time to shed one persona and step into another. He slipped into his cut, then mounted his bike. It’d warmed up enough to ride during the day, but nights still flirted with damn cold on occasion. He didn’t care, though, and neither did most of his brothers. They’d chomped at the bit all winter, and all bikes were back on the road in full force.

Just as he was about to fire up his one-and-only, his phone rang.

“Sup?” he said into his helmet’s Bluetooth.

“You on your way, Thunder?” Zach’s voice filled his head.

“Yeah, man. You need me to stop anywhere on the way?”

“Nope. Just get your ass here. And try to keep from shaking it in front of my woman.”

The line went dead.

Thunder laughed as he hit the throttle and shot out onto the highway. As he was overdue for a trim, the wind whipped his hair around his face beneath his dome. He fucking loved that feeling.