Page 12 of Rebels & Rejects

I noticed the change in the atmosphere, though, as soon as they walked in. Tension bled into the air, and most people have been keeping a safe distance from them ever since; never getting too close and frequently casting fearful glimpses out of the corner of their eyes. Not that I can blame them. The second they arrived, they picked out several scantily clad women and all but dragged them to their table, demanding they dance and put on a show for them.

I don’t let my gaze linger on the group for too long, not looking to draw any unwanted attention. Nor do I have any desire to watch the show they are forcing the girls to put on. Downing my drink, I turn back to the bar, lifting the glass when I catch the bartender's eye in a silent gesture for a second one. A few moments later, another glass of cheap whiskey is set in front of me. With a nod of thanks, I slap a few dollar bills onto the counter and take a sip, letting the whiskey warm me up from the inside as I turn to face the room again. I’m not expecting to find anything different, however I do need to remain vigilant in case the Satan’s start something. Besides, if growing up in Black Creek didn’t teach me not to turn my back on a room full of strangers, then prison definitely did.

I’m doing a casual once-over of the club when I catch my first glimpse of her through the crowd. The strobe lights reflect off her auburn hair as she moves to the beat of the music. The way her hair catches in the glow has me mesmerized, the shiny strands a beautiful deep copper color as they sway with her movements.

From where I’m sitting, she has her back to me, so I can’t get a look at her face, and with the dense crowd separating us, I can’t see anything south of her shoulders. The unique shade of her hair is the only thing I can make out.

A shoulder bumps against mine as someone jostles into me at the crowded bar, and I glance away from the captivating redhead to scowl at them, giving them my long-perfected death glare. With a terrified expression, they mutter a quick apology before scurrying away, but it’s too late. By the time I look back to the dance floor, she’s gone.

Frowning, I knock back the last of my whiskey. I’m about to get up and leave—figuring I’m not going to learn anything I don’t already know about the Satan’s tonight—when the redhead herself slides up to the bar beside me. She is leaning her arms on the wooden countertop, thus her ass juts out in that way girls do that draws every eye immediately to her tight, round globes.

She’s attempting to wave down the bartender on the far side of the bar, so I take advantage of her distraction to properly take her in. She’s got on a tight black crop top that shows off her toned torso, and I catch a peek of a vine tattoo patterned with budding flowers peeking out from beneath her sleeve as it wraps around her upper arm. She’s skinny, just like everyone in Black Creek, yet she’s been blessed—or cursed, maybe—with voluptuous curves and a huge rack.

A short, red, leather skirt just about covers her ass, giving every red-blooded male in the house a hard-on. She’s paired the ensemble with thigh-high black boots; the whole outfit making her look like my wildest fucking dreams. Believe me, two years in prison has given me plenty of time to fantasize about the perfect fucking woman and here she is, standing in front of me like God’s hand-delivered her himself.

“A shot of tequila,” she shouts at the bartender, having finally gained his attention. Not that it was much of a hardship with her tits sticking out like that. The guy behind the bar barely glances at her face, his eyes glued to her chest before he tears them away to fill her order.

“Make it two,” I call out, throwing a few bills down on the countertop.

The woman turns to stare at me with a wary look as the bartender grabs a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses. She continues to scrutinize me as he sets the two glasses on the bar and fills them to the brim with the colorless liquid before lifting the dollar bills and moving off to serve someone else.

I’m barely paying him any attention, though, unable to tear my gaze away from the alluring woman standing beside me. Her eyes drop to my boots and slowly rise as she takes in my dark, worn jeans and black shirt. She takes her time investigating the tattoo sleeve on my right arm, although I doubt she can make out any of the finer details in the dark light of the club. I had most of it done while on the inside. Initially, it was just to cover up the Beast insignia that I couldn't stand to look at any longer, but it turned into a full arm and chest piece. There’s not exactly a lot to do in prison, and getting various tattoos was a better use of my time than a lot else I could have been up to.

When she reaches my muscular biceps, she lingers there for a second before letting her gaze drift over my lean, toned chest that’s easily visible through my form-fitting top. Finally, her eyes lift to my face, taking in the shadow of stubble dusting my jaw, the high rise of my cheekbones, and my messy, brown hair before her eyes connect with my pale-blue ones once again. Lust burns in her eyes and a flirtatious smile lifts her lips. Done checking me out—and clearly happy with what she sees—she grabs the two shot glasses off the bar, handing one to me.

“Cheers,” she says, clinking her glass against mine before bringing it to her full, pouty lips, tilting her head back as she downs it in one.

Mimicking her, I throw back my own shot, hissing as the bitter substance burns its way down my throat. When I make eye contact with the redhead again, she’s watching me closely as she licks a stray droplet of tequila from her lower lip. That simple movement draws my attention to her lips and sends a zing of need to my balls, the likes of which I haven’t felt in far too fucking long.

When the bartender passes, making his way along the bar, I lift two fingers in the air, indicating another round.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” she laughs, a warm, infectious sound that, even over the noise of the music, resonates with me. “Because you should know, I have a very high tolerance.”

I don’t know anyone in Black Creek who doesn’t, but my lips quirk up at her joke, the muscles feeling stiff after the last few years of disuse. The bartender moves over to fill our shot glasses, and I hand him a few more bills as I watch the captivating goddess beside me. She tilts her head back when the glass touches her lips, extending the long column of her throat, which bobs as the liquid slides down it.

She turns back to look at me once more as she sets the empty glass on the bar. In the dark light of the club, it’s impossible to make out the color of her eyes, but there’s a slight glaze to them from the alcohol coursing through her system. Her tongue flicks out to run along her plump lower lip before her teeth sink into the flesh.God, if that isn’t the hottest fucking thing I’ve seen in forever.

“I’m O—” I begin, but she presses her finger against my parted lips, cutting off my introduction.

“No names.” She smirks coyly, and mischief brims in her eyes.

When she lifts her finger off my lips, I lean in, matching her lustful expression with a lascivious one of my own.

“If you don’t know my name, what are you going to call out when I’m making you come?”

Her breath hitches at my dirty words, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip again, making me wish I was the one biting into the soft flesh.

“If that's where this night ends up, I’m sure I’ll think of something,” she purrs, her eyes half-lidded with desire.

I push to my feet, a move that has me looking down on her, and presses my body flush against her lithe frame. Grabbing hold of her hand, I pull her along behind me into the sea of bodies writhing against each other on the dance floor. Placing a large palm around her hip, I tug her in against me as she drapes her arms over my shoulders, swaying her hips in time to the music. We lose ourselves in the rhythm, every passing song and tease of her pelvis against my painfully hard erection only endeavors to skyrocket the tension crackling in the air between us. I don’t know what it is about her, but I’m entranced by the sheen of her hair in the light, the teasing sparkle in her eye, and the flirtatious curl of her lip. It’s possible I’ve just gone too long jerking myself off and maybe Cain’s right by saying I need to get laid. In spite of that, there hasn’t been a woman who has held my attention since I was released. At least, no woman until her.

She spins in my hold, pressing the curve of her ass against my cock. There’s no way she doesn’t feel how badly I want her. My arms wrap around her slim waist, my palms flat against her toned stomach as she grinds into me. I catch the dirty smirk on her face. She knows damn well what she’s doing to me, the fucking tease. Dipping my head, I plant a kiss in the crook of her neck, and she tilts her head, granting me better access as I suck and nibble my way up to her ear.

“Two can play that game,” I whisper into her ear before I trail my fingers up the inside of her thigh, slip under her short skirt and teasingly skim them over the front of her panties.

A soft gasp escapes between her parted lips, inaudible to anyone other than me over the sound of the music, not that she seems to care. Fuck, if the dirty noise doesn’t have me grinding harder against her ass.

Slipping my fingers under the scrap of fabric covering her cunt, I find her already dripping wet as I circle her clit. Her head falls back against my shoulder, eyes drifting shut under my ministrations. I watch mesmerized as her lips part, her mouth dropping open as she gets closer to orgasm. A blush slowly works its way up her heaving chest as I slide my fingers lower and slowly push two inside her, eliciting a groan. She feels so fucking good spasming around my fingers. I can only imagine how fucking incredible she would feel wrapped around my dick, her wet heat sucking me deeper.

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