Page 18 of Dash

With a snort, the bald biker dismissed the comment. The three of diamonds. The odds of Dash’s royal flush had gone down, but he had the flush. The two of spades wouldn’t do anyone any favors. Neither would the five of clubs. They were low enough that no one in their right mind would keep them in their hands off the deal. Dash shoved another fifty dollars in the pot.

Without hesitation, Tut did the same.

Jackal turned the last card. “Jack of clubs to end the game,” he said.

Tossing in twenty-five dollars to test Tut, he waited.

“I only got ten more minutes before I gotta get to the Spoke, so let’s get this over with,” Tut declared confidently, and shoved one hundred dollars in chips into the pot. “Call?”

Running his tongue along his bottom teeth, Dash considered it.

He hated wasting money, but his flush was solid. Picking up his cigarette from the track, he flicked off the excess ash before he placed it in his mouth. What was life without a minor risk here and there? He pushed the money in. “Call.”

The two men flipped their cards over simultaneously.

“Full house,” Tut taunted. “Jacks over threes.”

Dash snorted. He had the three of spades and the jack of hearts. Well, fuck him sideways. While the winning biker collected his chips and Dash’s money, Dash glanced toward Blue, who did her best to appear innocent.

“Shoulda bet patches.” Jackal laughed. “Riders could have had their house back.”

Dash regarded the older man. “What now?” For the moment, the funky haired woman was the last thing on his mind. It wasn’t lost on him that the younger of the two glanced toward his father warily. What was that about?

The old timer waved a hand dismissively before he chuckled. “Nostalgia,” he said. “Still adjusting to this patch over thing. I was a Roughneck Rider since you were swimming in your father’s balls. But my club voted.” He shrugged and let out a heavy sigh. “I support my Prez. He made the move. Who am I to question it?” He reached over his shoulder and patted his back. “I burned the old. I sewed the new. The Fury has nothing to worry about.” He winked.

Flicking his gaze from father to son, Dash considered the words. He got a nod of reassurance from the younger of the two. However, it didn’t feel all that encouraging. Scanning the mostly empty clubhouse, his attention landed on the Odin’s Fury flag hung on the wall.

Creases of fold marks stood out against the stiff fabric as though it’d just been pulled from the box and tacked to the wall. It felt as though it’d been put there for his benefit. It made little sense. Clark had been here. Surely, he wouldn’t have supported something like that. This clubhouse felt off.

Once more, he regarded the pair. “I have to actually thank the Fury,” Jackal broke into his thoughts.

“Why’s that?” Dash asked, trying his best not to sound sarcastic.

The older man licked his bottom lip before he spoke. “Got my son off the junk. It got real ugly there for a while. Moving the club away from that shit.” He nodded. “It was a good move.”

The bald biker clapped the older man on the back. He needed to stop being so paranoid. Leaving his chips at the table, trusting his brothers, Dash pushed his chair out, took his beer, and headed over to the blue and green-haired club whore. She’d moseyed her way over to the pool table, and he wasn’t about to let her get away with her little antic.

As she bent over, surely inviting him to gaze upon her ample and exposed rear end, she lined up the racked balls. He pressed his thighs against her legs, pinning her against the table. “You cheated,” he whispered as he leaned forward to rest his beer on the ledge.

Holding her position, she looked over her shoulder. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Did you see my cards?” he asked. He’d kept them low. He actually hadn’t a clue how she could have seen them.

She smirked. “No.”

Blowing smoke out of his nose, he felt like a dragon capturing the princess for daring to enter his castle. She had cost him money. Dragons didn’t care about poker chips, but they did care about gold coins. So, he’d take a leap in his mind that they were the same thing. Channeling his inner dragon, Dash rumbled a bit of a growl in his chest, and ran his fingers up the back of her thighs.

She shivered, and he quirked a brow. Had he found a potential play partner in a club whore in Ohio? Normally he wouldn’t touch club whores, but if there was a willing woman, and she was right the fuck here…hell, he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. He’d have to feel this shit out. If it went well, maybe he’d have Whiskey bring his toy bag up when he came around.

“You’ve been a bad girl, Blue.”

“What’re you going to do about it?” she teased.

The sound of his hand cracking against her ass seemed louder in a room that wasn’t normally this empty. She hissed as he rubbed the sting for a few seconds before delivering another blow. His club brothers wouldn’t intervene on a spanking. This was baby shit.

By fifth spank, Blue whimpered the sexiest whine; his cock pressed against his zipper and wedged itself between her ass cheeks. He should give that side a break. He’d turned her flesh a nice shade of pink. He had to make it even. Her legs quivered when he switched sides.

At this point, he held her up with his pelvis pinning her to the table, and his free hand on her shoulders. She’d bent fully over the table, her chest pressed to the felt. Something told him she regretted her choice in clothing.

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