Page 164 of Property of Necro
These are by far the strangest men.
Since we’re here and I’m the jerk who didn’t thinkabout how they’d act in a semi-public bar, I get up and pretend I need to use the ladies’ room. Rot stands like he’s going to follow me to ensure my safety. I grab his shoulders and force him to sit back down before I disappear to find Miriam.
At the bar, she rushes to greet me. “Sola, how may I help you?”
I grip the edge of the bar and lean in so nobody else overhears. “Do you have any private rooms here?”
“Yes. One. Do you have a particular dancer in mind?”
“Can I use the room and not use any of the women?”
“Ah. Yes. Of course. Just this way.” Waving me through a beaded doorway, she leads me down a dim hall to the private room that’s all crushed red velvet with a long wall-to-wall bench and a gold pole in the center. The mood lighting is sexy. This will do.
“Is this to your liking?” she asks from the doorway as I inspect the space.
“Yes. This is perfect. Can you tell the guys to meet me here?” I ask, offering her a polite smile.
“Of course. I’d be happy to.” Flashing me a grin, Miriam disappears, and I undress as I wait for the men to arrive.
If they don’t want to watch other women dance, then maybe my terrible dance moves will either make them laugh or turn them on. I’m amenable to both. As long as they’re having fun, that’s all that matters. This is our first real time outside of the church, and I want it to be memorable. And no, the visit to Doc’s doesn’t count. Necro was comatose nearly the entire time, and we weren’t together then like we are now.
If you had asked me years ago if I’d be in a relationship with three deadly bikers, I would have laughed in your face. Yet here we are.
Taking a few practice twirls around the pole, I get used to the feel. It’s been a while since I’ve done this. A couple of years back, I worked a job for the club and had to go undercover as a stripper. It’s hard work, and I never got the actual hang of it, but private dances, oh, those were my specialty, mostly because I look ridiculous on stage and can’t dance in heels to save my life. Hence, my love of Crocs. They never let me down. Sport mode is a lifesaver.
All three giant men lumber into the room. Coffin has his knife out like he’s expecting a fight. He slips it back into his boot when he takes one long look at me naked in the center of the room. I sweep an inviting hand to the couch. “Take off your pants. Stay a while,” I purr.
“This is the best day of my life,” Rot crows as he kicks off his boots, strips down to nothing, and drops his ass onto the couch like an overeager beaver. Stretching his arms across the back, he licks his lips, staring straight at me. “Your pussy looks so damn tasty right now. Those lights are doin’ it for your skin, Red. You’re gonna be a good girl tonight, aren’t you?”
Turning around, I wiggle my ass at him, and he doesn’t even attempt to hide his erection when he strokes himself to full mast and groans. “Best. Night. Ever.”
Coffin, not trusting where we are, doesn’t sit, and he sweeps the room before standing sentry in front of the closed steel door.
“You don’t want to sit down?” I nod to the couch.
“I don’t trust anyone.”
“This is your club. Nothing bad is gonna happen. At least take off your pants, so we’re all naked together.” When Coffin stares at the ceiling as if sending a silent prayer up for me to stop testing his patience, I tack on a cute and far too sweet, “Please. Pretty Please. I want to see your cock. You don’t have to leave the door. Just… show me.”
“Go on, brother. Just do it,” Rot encourages.
Grumbling under his breath, Coffin’s nostrils flare as he tugs off his jacket and sets it on the floor next to him before unbuckling his jeans and tearing his pants down to his ankles. But he doesn’t kick them off. “There.” He gestures angrily at his thick steel as if he’s offended it’s hard in a place like this.
Clasping my hands together, I bow my head in gratitude. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, Sweet Cheeks. You’ll bleed for this later.”
I bat my lashes. “Promise?”
Dropping his head back against the door, Coffin groans, “Ah. Fuck. Don’t make it sound like that.”
“Like what?”
“You know what.”
“That you like it,” Rot tacks on, chuckling at our exchange.
I shrug, not about to deny it. Sure, it hurts, but it pleases him, and it turns me on a little, knowing how much he needs to mark me. The drinking blood thing might be gross, but it’s not like he’s siphoning it into a jar. He’s getting it from the source.
