Raze orders a round of Johnny Walker for us all and Bobby brings over the bottle with several shot glasses. Picking up the bottle, Raze pours the whiskey into each glass, doling them out to the five us of us. “It’s only right as a brotherhood we drink in Jagger’s honor.” He raises his glass in the air as he speaks.
“Jagger, this shot is for you. Ride free forever, brother.” Clinking our glasses together, we drink to our fallen brother, letting the whiskey burn down our throats. I love the man, but he had shit taste in whiskey.
It doesn’t take long for Maj to get shitfaced. She’s always been a sloppy drunk, which leaves me wondering why Raze lets her get this far gone every time we go out as a club. She starts grinding against Trixi, whose eyes lock on to me as she sways her hips against Maj’s ass. Jesus, that’s not even remotely attractive, but these two drunken women think it’s the sexiest thing on the planet. Leaning over to Raze and interrupting his quiet conversation with Ratchet, I nod toward the dance floor.
“Raze, you might want to control your woman before she starts to strip. “
“Fuck me!” he yells as he slides out of the booth. “What the fuck are you doing, baby?” he yells over the music, stalking toward her on the dance floor.
“No, I don’t want to be the meat between you and Trixi’s buns. Fuck, woman, how much did you drink?” Her replies go unheard, but she continues to dance with Trixi before tumbling to the floor in a failed attempt to grind on Trixi’s leg. I know Raze likes watching that shit, but it repulses me.
An old lady is supposed to be obedient and loyal but once Maj gets a round or two of drinks in her, she acts like a whore. Her drunken actions with the club girls make me secretly wonder if Maj has a taste for women and men, but I’ll never ask because I like my head just where it is: attached to me. Scooping her up from the floor, Raze carries her out the door and no doubt straight into a fuck session before bed. As they exit, that’s when I see her.
A tall blonde walks into the room in the shortest dress I’ve ever seen on a woman that tall. She sure as fuck isn’t leaving much to the imagination in that getup. But it’s not her that draws my attention; it’s the olive-skinned beauty standing next to her. She contrasts in looks against her friend. While the blonde looks like a typical California bar slut, the raven beauty next to her is far from the normal view in a place like this. Her dress is wrapped tightly around her like a second skin. She’s the perfect mix of soft curves and lean muscle. Her exotic look is enchanting and my dick starts to harden with every second I watch her. I can tell by her body language she isn’t happy about being here and doesn’t like what she’s wearing as she continuously fidgets with her dress. The thought of that scrap of fabric crumpled on my bedroom floor sends a jolt to my aching cock. Her hair sends an erotic thought cascading through my mind. The braid draped over her shoulder would be the perfect rope to hold onto as I pound into her ass. The thought of her in that vulnerable and submissive position sends erotic shivers rolling down my body. I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking hard just imagining fucking a complete stranger. Since my cock seems to approve of her, my night just may be looking up after all. The look on Ratchet’s face shows me that he must have noticed me staring. He has this sly, knowing smirk, but I can’t pull my eyes away from my mystery for more than a few seconds. Annoyed with my lack of attention, he throws a wadded up bar napkin at my face.
“Hey, fuck face, did you hear what I just said?” he yells across the table.
“Nope, didn’t hear a word. Been a little busy scoping out the new pussy that just walked in.”
“I’ve never seen the shorter one in here before, but, I think the other girl’s one of the night waitresses. I’m not one hundred percent certain, though. “You want the blonde or the brunette?” he asks, knowing full well which one I want.
“The brunette, shithead. You know blondes aren’t my thing.”
“Yeah, I know,” he remarks with a shrug. “It’s good to switch things up a bit. I bet my ass that blondie over there is a wildcat in the sack.”
Rolling my eyes at him, we both sit back and watch our prey settle into a table before the blonde calls Red over. The bastard leans a little too close to my girl and anger flares inside of me. What the fuck? My girl? Get a grip, Hero. You haven’t even talked to the woman, let alone claimed her. Red smacks her ass before walking away, which nearly sends me out of the booth to knock him on his ass for touching her. What the hell is happening to me? A perfect stranger shouldn’t have this kind of pull over me. It must be the shitty whiskey killing off my sensible brain cells. While the blonde screams in excitement, I wonder what the fuck that was all about. Waving Bobby down, I order a round of drinks for them both. My eyes linger on the pair as they consume more drinks as the evening goes on. Blondie finally drags her out on the dance floor and it’s time for Ratchet and me to make our move.
Ratchet slides behind the blonde and immediately presses against her ass. She must like it because she leans back into him, pulling his hands to her hips to drive the motion. Ratchet’s face leans into the side of her neck, letting his hands roam south when she starts to kiss him. My prey starts to leave the dance floor before I pull her back against me, startling her at first.
She soon relaxes against me as she moves with the music. She’s a few inches shorter than me, even with the fuck-me heels on her feet, but I dip down far enough that her ass stays planted against my rock hard dick. She rolls her hips seductively against me; my dick will explode in my pants like a teenage boy if she keeps this up.
A waitress walks up with a shot in her hands and hands it to my beautiful dance partner. She tips back the shot and tosses the empty glass back to the waitress when I see Voodoo nod across the way. That fucker is sending her drinks when I’m trying to lock her down to warm my bed tonight. Hope he remembers payback is a bitch.
Pulling her back to me, I can’t control my hands anymore as they trace the curves of her beautiful body. She’s nowhere near the sickly supermodel-thin the club girls are with fake tits. I like my women with meat on their bones and what their mommas gave them. Fake tits do the job when I need them, but I prefer natural. I’m pretty sure hers are real, judging by the way they jiggle with each of her motions. They would look perfect pressed around my dick as I fucked them or with my cum dripping off of them. I need to get this girl home before I drag her off to the back of the bar and fuck her against the alley wall.
Just as I decide to pull the trigger, her friend rips her away from me. I start to go after her but her friend pukes all over herself and the dance floor, sending them in the direction of the bathroom. Fuck it. I can wait until she gets back. Ratchet shrugs his shoulders and we head back to the table. Red’s leaning against our table talking to Voodoo as we approach. He’s a perverted, fat fucker, but he’s useful when we need a night out on the town. Ratchet slaps Red on the back before sliding into the booth.
“Red, who are the two women you were talking to earlier?” I ask. I need to get as much information on my target for the night before sealing the deal. “She belong to someone?” Red turns to me with a confused look on his face.
“Are you talking about the blonde?”
“Fuck no, the brunette with her. Need to know if I’m stepping on any toes by dragging her off later.”
Red laughs at me. “She’s my new waitress. I think her name’s Dawn or Debbie, something like that. I was too busy checking out her rack to catch her name. She’s a feisty one, Hero. That spirit is going to make me a ton of money before I break it.” The thought of him touching her flares rage in me again.
Gripping him by the collar of his shirt, I get into his face. “She’s fucking off limits until I’m done with her, Red. If anyone is going to break her, it’s gonna be me. You got it?”