Stalk Her

Her cropped top wasn’t obscene, didn’t show skin, but it was tight enough I could see how small she was all around.

Fuck, I bet my hands would wrap fully around her waist.

She was young, too fucking young to be working in a place like this.

She was too fucking young for me to be looking at her the way I was, thinking about the things I was.

Her long blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail, and the first thing that came to mind was how I wanted those strands wrapped around my hand as I took her from behind while I yanked her head back and bared her throat.

I tracked her movements through the bar as she set down the orders at different tables. Her cheeks were pink as if she were blushing. Fuck, she was innocent-looking. I didn’t stop myself from lowering my gaze to her chest. Her tits were small, maybe not even a handful. But they looked perfect. The little nipples were poking through the material, making my dick instantly hard and press against the zipper of my jeans.

The men who frequented this bar were lowdown criminals, outlaws like myself. They took what they wanted and asked questions after the fact. And a girl like her sure as fuck shouldn’t be in a place like this.

I didn’t like it.

I called Richie over, the manager of our establishment. He came over with a towel slung over his shoulder, a worried expression on his face. He wasn’t like us, like the MC. In fact, he’d been the original owner of the bar before we took over, before we gave him an ultimatum, no choice but to go into business with us.

That’s what kind of bastards we were.

“What’s up, Butcher?” Richie asked. The older man might not be a criminal like myself, but he sure as fuck wasn’t some law-abiding citizen. That’s why it made it easy to give him the ultimatum to sell us his bar while we still allowed him to run it.

What could he do? Refuse us and end up in the back-alley dumpster?

Besides, he was good at selling underage customers, also good at selling pussy in the back of the shop during and after business hours.

“Who’s the new girl? She barely looks old enough to buy a pack of cigarettes, let alone be serving alcohol.”

Richie looked over to where the young blonde was and then glanced back at me. “That’s Poppy. New girl. She’s been here about a week. Just turned nineteen, I think.” The look he gave me was a little bit hesitant. It was the look of a man who thought I said something shady. He knew me well, but fuck, I wasn’t some kind of a fucking maniac. “Should I have asked before hiring her?” he asked genuinely.

I shrugged. “I don’t give a fuck who you hire, Richie.” I looked back at Poppy. “You selling her ass in the back like the others?” He better fucking say he wasn’t or I’d break his kneecaps. That thought and certainty filled me so strongly it shocked the hell out of me.

“No.” He shook his head adamantly. “She’s not a whore. She just slings drinks and collects a paycheck every other week.”

I grunted in response. “Poppy,” I said under my breath, instantly liking how it rolled off my tongue.

I could still feel Richie looking at me, but I didn’t give a fuck. He wasn’t my concern. Now, Poppy… Poppy was definitely my concern.

Chapter Two

Poppy

“Damn, girl. You got a tight little ass on you.”

I ignored the drunken asshole who tried to grab me. I stepped back and gave him a fake, tight-lipped smile. The three men sitting around the table were all eyeing me as if I was a piece of meat. I was used to it, unfortunately, not because I thought I was pretty or anything special, but because I had a pussy and that’s all they cared about.

I knew these types of men. They were the ones I’d been around my entire life.

They were the type of asshole I’d run from.

Here I was, finding myself in the same situation as I’d escaped… being surrounded by a bunch of pricks who only saw me as a hole to fill.

I set the beer down in front of the asshole and turned to make my rounds and check on the other customers. The classic rock played overhead from the jukebox in the corner, an old-ass thing that looked like it was on its last legs. The interior lights of the thing flickered, and the makeshift dance floor was scuffed up and scarred. The few people who were in the center dancing looked more like they were trying to dry hump each other than anything else.

I made it one step before the guy reached out and smacked my ass hard enough that I felt the sting through my jeans. I turned around and narrowed my eyes. I might’ve been young, but I was tough, had lived my life around men who thought taking advantage of women was the norm. I didn’t come from a rich family. I wasn’t privileged. I had to fight for everything I got in life, and there was no fucking way I was going to let some drunk prick put his hands on me, thinking I was another girl who would just roll over and spread her legs.