Three Kinds of Trouble (Sons of Templar MC 9)

But I hadn’t needed to worry about that since there was only a dull roar in my ear and everything else had blended into a blur. There was only Freya.

She was afraid of me, that much was clear. And because I was a fucking evil asshole, I liked that. I needed that. Needed her fear of me to mute her down. Otherwise, I’d turn into a fucking caveman.

Since she was terrified of me, I’d expected her to avoid my gaze while she was up there. I’d prayed for it.

But God didn’t listen to demons, devils, sinners, or members of outlaw motorcycle clubs. Freya did not avert her eyes like she had in the parking lot or the night prior when she’d lingered by the bar, talking to Kallum, who I also wanted to fucking kill.

No, she only had eyes for me.

They were right, the fucking religious nuts. Hell did exist, and it was Fate, this fucking club. Heaven existed too. And it was also here in this fucking club at this fucking moment.

FREYA

I had not planned on taking Marilyn’s advice. Usually, she was great at giving it. But this ... thing, this connection—one sided, of course—was not like anything I’d ever experienced, and I wasn’t articulate enough to explain it to her. Certainly not in the five minutes I’d had before I was due to go on stage.

I’d planned on completely avoiding the corner of the club where Hades had situated himself. I’d stripped in front of people I knew before, even a couple of times in front of people I’d dated—which none of them had been able to handle. At first, it was kind of awkward, but I was a veteran now and wasn’t ashamed of my body or my job.

The problem was, Hades had a magnetic pull. The second I walked out on stage, it was impossible not to look at him. Not to move for him. Not to breathe for him.

And I was not ashamed. Or afraid.

I was powerful.

It was like sex. That sounded insane, but there was no other way to describe it. Never in my life had stripping been sexual to me. At first, it had been my rock bottom, the only way to pay the bills. Then my secret shame. After that, it became a job. A great workout. The thing that paid for my lifestyle. Yes, it had been many, many things. But it had never been sexual.

Until this moment.

Until his eyes followed my every move. Tracing my skin as I moved up and down the pole. The thin lace covering my body was suddenly too heavy, too stifling, too arousing against my hard nipples. My body swayed with the music, pulling off the fabric slowly, sensually. My heartbeat seemed to pulse everywhere in my body, all my muscles coiled tightly, reacting as if Hades’s lips were moving all over me, coaxing me to a climax. Although he was in shadows, he seemed to be etched from stone, every detail of his face stark, irresistible.

He had been hunched over his table when I began, clutching his glass, glaring at the stage, glaring at me. For less than a moment. Then I started. Then we started. Something moved in his eyes, something sparked. He sat up straighter, let go of the glass, both of his palms flat on the table. He turned so I could see him open his legs ever so slightly. An invitation. I was instantly wet. I must’ve imagined it, since it was impossible to see such things with the low light from that distance, but I could’ve sworn I saw the outline of his cock. His very large, very hard cock. That only made me crazier.

I moved like the pole was his body. Like I was involved in some kind of crazed mating dance. It would’ve felt ridiculous and desperate had I not been so turned on.

Only him and I existed. My skin was damp, clammy and on fire by the time I’d shed my clothes and finished my set. I felt like one fucking touch, the tiniest bit of friction, and I’d explode. It was all I could to do to walk backstage and not launch myself across the crowd to let Hades fuck me right there.

Marilyn, who had been watching from backstage, gave me a wink and mouthed, “I told you so” as she swatted my ass and began her set.

I stumbled to the bathroom on unsteady legs, barely able to lock the door before I pressed myself against it and touched the one area that was begging for attention. I cried out as I came the second my fingers touched my clit.

Chapter Five

I didn’t want to make eye contact with Hades when I finally rustled up enough courage to emerge from backstage. I’d planned on averting my eyes altogether, making an art out of staring at his motorcycle boots. How could I look him in the eye after that?