“What’s the Pit?” I asked her.
“Strip club,” she replied, sounding annoyed. She poured herself another mojito as she glared at the men. “Bunch of sluts and cunts work there, always trying to get their fake-ass nails into our men.”
“Rider wouldn’t look at anyone else. Not the way he looks at you,” I soothed, and she offered me a smile and patted my knee.
It was true though. I’d never seen a couple so in love and so perfect for each other. They were the yin to each other’s yang and I couldn’t help but be a little envious.
“The thing is with men,” Charlie continued, her gaze still on Rider, “is that they can think with one brain at a time. Unfortunately, when their little brains are in charge, everything else goes to shit.”
“Little brain?” I asked, and she waggled her little finger, making me laugh loudly.
Rider, Gauge, and Fighter all turned to stare as I snorted out another laugh. Charlie handed me a mojito and we clinked our glasses together and laughed again.
“I like you,” she said. “There’s not many people I do like, but I like you.”
I smiled, feeling something weirdly like pride fill my chest. “Thanks. I like you too.”
“Watch this,” she said with a wink, putting her glass down at her feet. She grabbed the hem of her top and pulled it a little lower and flipped her hair over one shoulder
She sat up, spreading her long legs wide and placing a hand on either knee. She was wearing a short leather skirt that clung to her curves, but now it had risen up higher on her thighs. She sat upright, leaning forward so that her breasts popped at the top of her low-cut top.
Rider glanced over, his eyes going wide when he saw her. Gauge was still talking to him, oblivious to Charlie’s seduction, and I grinned, loving the effect she could have on her man. Rider was nodding at whatever Gauge was saying, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off his woman and there was no denying the hard-on in his jeans. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and dragged his hand down his short beard.
I chuckled, wishing I had that sort of power over Fighter, if only to show him what he was missing out on. If he wanted to be a dick and be his free and single self, that was fine, but he needed to know that he was losing out on something good with me. I needed to channel my inner Charlie, I decided.
I put my drink down and pulled the hem of my top so that my cleavage was on show and then I stood up, teetering on my high heels. Charlie smirked as I turned around and bent to pick my drink back up, making sure to bend real low so my ass would be seen at the bottom of the denim cutoffs I had borrowed from Charlie. I stood up, glancing over my shoulder to look at Fighter, happy as a pig in shit when I saw him staring right at me, his nostrils flaring in such a way that told me he was happy with what he saw.
I took a sip of my drink and then bent back over to put it back down. When I stood back up, I felt his strong arms wrapping around my waist, his body so close to mine I could feel his hard cock in his jeans. I leaned into his touch and looked up at him.
“What are you doin?” he growled next to my ear.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I replied innocently.
“Cut the shit, Penny. You’re making a show of yourself.”
“I’m not doing anything. You’re the one making a show, Fighter.” I ground back against him, wondering where the hell I got off being so brazen with him. That wasn’t me. And yet there I was, grinding back on him like a hooker needing to pay rent. And worse, I liked it.
He breathed heavily against my neck, making my stomach flip. His hands on my waist gripped me tighter, and when I tried to pull away he pulled me closer against him, nipping at my throat with his teeth. I looked back at him, his dark eyes burning into me so much that I felt like I was on fire.
“You can’t walk around like this, Penny,” he grumbled against my neck.
“Why? You don’t want me. You don’t like what you see, right? So what does it matter who else looks?”
I felt him growing harder against me and I pushed back, ignoring the wolf whistle that no doubt came from Gauge. Fuck him. I didn’t care who was watching. All that mattered in that moment was me and Fighter.
His fingers dug painfully into me and he nipped my skin, making me wince. “I don’t like people looking at you.”
“Why?”
And why did I care?
Because I was drunk?
Because I was high?
Or because I actually did like him?
“Because you’re mine,” he growled, his face buried in my neck, his tongue licking up towards my ear lobe and making me shiver.
