Page 7 of Two Tricks

When I didn’t turn or step away from the person behind me, he set his large hands on my hips and pulled me flush with his front. I could tell he was quite a bit taller than me, but that wasn’t shocking. What I found interesting was he didn’t say a word, just letting his body do the talking. He moved with me easily, and I could tell he had a flair for dancing.

Not every guy can “grind” on a girl well, believe it or not.

Deciding that I wanted to get a look at this guy who had managed to scare off others, I spun around and let my hands fall to his hips. Looking up at him, I could feel my body tingle, and desire flared between us. Standing before me was a Latin god with sultry light brown eyes that almost seemed copper. His thick black hair was buzzed short, showing off his defined jaw covered in stubble that I wanted to feel against my skin. Seeing me examine him, his hold on me tightened, showing off the muscles in his arms. One of them was covered in colorful traditional tattoos that I wanted to trace with my fingers and remove his t-shirt to see if there were more.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Never have I wanted to drag a man off the dance floor and find a room to show him just how much I appreciate what he was born with.

A slow grin appeared on his face, as if he knew the effect he was having on me. His copper eyes sparkled as he stepped closer, putting his jean-clad leg between mine. Then he pulled me flush with him so I could rub myself on his thigh, getting the friction I so desperately needed. One hand moved from my waist to my low back, holding me right where he wanted me, and the other snaked its way up the back of my neck, gripping tightly and making it impossible to look away from him.

Loving the way he was controlling my body, I willingly gave into his movements. I could feel my breath speeding up as he increased the pressure on my clit, letting the lace of my thong and his jeans do the work.

Holy fuck, I was going to come right here on the dance floor in front of all these people, and I didn’t give one flying fuck.

My hand slipped under his shirt, running my fingers up his muscular back, then letting my nails bite into his skin before I drew them down. He groaned and dropped his head to kiss me. He didn’t hold back, biting at my bottom lip for me to let him in, and I was more than willing. His kiss was seductive and borderline painful with the force he used, but I reveled in it.

Just when I thought I was going to come all over his leg, my watch buzzed, startling me out of the haze I was in. Jerking back, I surprised my dance partner, who blinked at me, confused. Glancing at the screen, I saw it was Wes, and then the three words that would get my attention no matter where I was flashed on the screen.

“Joke’s on you.”

Fucking fuckity fuck balls, I had to get out of here.

“You okay?” a silky voice asked before an arm reached out for me.

Now on high alert, my head shot up, watching him as I sidestepped his touch.

“Fine,” I answered and made my way off the dance floor, needing to find a place where I could call Wes and find out what the hell happened.

As I made my way across the patio, thinking I’d go inside to find the bathroom, I was jerked to a stop by someone grabbing my arm. Moving without thought, I grasped his wrist, twisted my body out of his hold, and pulled his arm up behind him, causing him to cry out.

“Fucking hell, woman, are you crazy?” my Latin god snapped, trying to pull out of my hold.

Even though I was much smaller and not as strong, I had pressure points and leverage on my side. “Why are you following me?”

“Let me the fuck go and I’ll tell you, you crazy bitch,” he growled over his shoulder.

The one thing I hated most was when men called women slurs. Was I acting like a bitch… yes, but he started it. That wasn’t reason enough to use such language. So to show him a real bitch move, I kicked the back of one of his knees, dropping him to the ground.

“Now I know you weren’t talking to me using that kind of fucking language,” I whispered into his ear. “I am going to leave now, and you are going to leave me the fuck alone, okay?” I placed a soft kiss on his cheek before letting him go.

Without looking back, I made my way into the house, found a quiet hallway, and pulled out my phone, hitting Weston’s speed dial.

“Took you long enough. Are you out of there yet?” Wes demanded.

“I’m sorry, Mom, I needed to find a place I could call you back and not get overheard,” I said, not liking how concerned he sounded.

“Damnit, Dax, you need to get the fuck out of there NOW!”

Wes was always the calm to my crazy, the peanut butter to my jelly. Opposites in everything, but together oh so good. If he was freaking out, then this was worse than I thought.

“You need to give me something so I know what to look out for,” I said, opening the door to a back room, hoping it would have an exit out to the side of the house.

“The Phantom Saints are there and coming for you,” Wes said, causing my anger to flare. “Where are you now? I pulled up the blueprints of the house so I can get you out.”

The door to the room burst open, and five huge guys walked in, including my dance partner that I’d been humping moments ago. This time, though, he was wearing a leather vest he hadn’t been before.

“Looks like a six card draw, ace high,” I said, letting Wes know what I was dealing with before I dropped the phone to face the unwanted party crashers.

My pulse beat in my ears, but not for the reason you would think. I was thrilled to have a fight on my hands, and a good one by the looks of it. The guys were all massive, towering over me, even the smallest built like a linebacker. I had to grin at how perfectly they fell into the biker cliché, but I had to admit—it was a good look for them.