Wrecked (Dueling Devils 3)

CHAPTER ONE

Everyone has a story, a sequence of events that makes them who they are. Most people in this life rise above, or at least manage to function with the demons that live in the inescapable walls of their brain. It was a personal battle he never cared too much about when it came to others, until now, because of her. Lefty watched Gia weave her way through the crowded club, occasionally stopping to chat with the patrons, waitresses, and strippers.

She had her hands in every aspect of the place. It was a condition she’d insisted upon when she'd signed the lease with the Dueling Devils. She turned a blind eye to club business, making the back room a place for business along with the dances ordered ala the Champagne special.

Her thick ass filled out the black miniskirt that clung to her body and showed off shapely legs.

For a petite woman, she had a wicked pair of stems. His cock twitched and hardened as he took in the miles of chocolate skin on display. Her sheer black blouse teased him with glimpses of her slender waist and black bra. She disappeared down the hall to her office and he drank down the rest of his beer.

“The party’s right here, not over there,” Demon said.

The amusement in his voice grated Lefty’s nerves like cheese. “I can’t look around?” he

asked.

“You can do whatever the fuck you want, but there are bitches ready to entertain you right here.” Demon nodded toward the bevy of beauties twirling down the poles on the VIP platform.

“Figured you’d want something you might be able to have.”

Lefty ignored him and signaled their waitress for another beer. “I already had her.”

“But not how you want.”

“Shit’s complicated,” Lefty mumbled.

“Aren’t most bitches?”

Lefty shook his head. Gia’s meddling with Demon and Ardy had him pumping the breaks.

Had she been pining for the pres. the entire time? He didn’t do second best. Hell, he’d never imagined exclusivity until Gia. The minx had gotten under his armor and made him question his life. Sharing started off as something he and Demon did for fun. Then Demon quit Gia cold

turkey and he’d hung around. Now, he was developing stalker-like tendencies.

“Fuck, man, just go say hi,” Demon urged.

“What? You found Ardy and now you want to be a matchmaker?”

“No, I’m just tired of you making fucking cow eyes at her every time you think no one’s

looking. It ain’t like you to hesitate when you want something.”

“She flipped on you, brother. I’m not trying to be into a bitch hung up on my pres.”

“I told you. That wasn’t about me. It was some other shit going on. She needs to anchor

right now. I don’t know where her fucking head is and I’ll be damned if I’ll ask.” Demon pointed at Lefty. “You might want to get on it before it’s scooped up by someone else.”

“I ain’t sure you’re right.”

“First of all, I’m always right. Second, if she was hung up on me, do you think she’d be tight with my old lady? No fucking way.” Demon shook his head.

“Maybe,” Lefty muttered, grateful for the waitress who returned with his beer. He gave her a nod and took a large gulp. He wasn’t scared of death, pain, or any man who walked the earth.

But feeling vulnerable turned him into a little bitch. The fear creeping into his veins brought anger. The fuck am I doing? He finished off his drink and crooked a finger at the blonde shaking her ass at the edge of the stage. “Come here, Angel. I need a personal dance.”

Demon shot him a look, but kept his mouth shut.

Damn right.

Angel hopped off the bar and made her way to him while swaying her hips.

Her tan skin with her bleached blonde hair and fake tits were the exact opposite of the

woman he was yearning for. Perfect. “Come here, sweetness…show me those moves you were doing earlier.”

She flashed him a toothpaste model white smile and turned on her four-inch clear heels,

presenting her small apple-shaped ass. “You sure you ready for it, biker?”

“I can handle whatever you want to dish out.” He leaned back in the chair.

She gripped his thighs with her hands and set her body into motion. She was a master,

twerking, rubbing, and flashing those electric blues at him. She leaned back, flinging her flower scented hair.

The soft strands of her light-colored hair tickled his skin, but otherwise, the elaborate show did nothing for him. Fuck. He stood. Her blue eyes turned into mini oceans. Shoving his hand in his pocket, he pulled out a wad, peeled off two hundred dollar bills, and strolled away, disgusted.