“And then he told me he wanted to stick his dick in my orifice,” Dove cackled, slapping her bare thigh while Peaches grimaced beside her.
Harlow was doing her best to ignore them both, wiping down the bar while the two strippers relaxed in their seats.
They were on break before they needed to go canvas some men for lap dances, but she wished they’d gossip elsewhere.
She hated when the pair of them lingered in her section instead of heading to the back rooms to take their breaks, mostly because Dove was a huge freaking bitch.
“That sounds horrible,” Peaches exclaimed. “What did you do?”
Dove smirked, wiping the side of her mouth. “Oh, honey. I let him stick it wherever he wanted. That man was sexy as hell.”
Whatever. Dove had probably let him ‘stick it wherever’ because he’d paid her.
Harlow snorted, unintentionally drawing attention to herself.
Dove’s eyes narrowed, over-creasing her eyeshadow as she turned fully toward the bar. She eyed Harlow’s uniform like she’d never seen it before and hated everything about the tight material, which was laughable.
Harlow had been bartending there for years, when she wasn’t needed to fill in as a stripper on stage, and her uniform was the same every single day.
Tiny, bright pink thong. Itty bitty, black, leather pleated skirt that didn’t even try to cover her entire ass and a small black leather vest that was held together by one buckle in the front, showing off her stomach and displaying the generous swell of her breasts.
She even had on black, glittery fuck-me pumps that killed her feet every night. But Harlow wasn’t going to complain about the uniform in the slightest.
At least not to her bosses.
“Haven’t seen you gracing us with your presence on stage, Harlow.” Dove smiled, showing off a crooked front tooth. “Is that because no one wants to see what you’re offering?”
“I’m sure that’s it,” Harlow answered, not rising to the bait.
Truth be told, she didn’t give a damn if she ever stepped foot on that stage again. She hated working here, but the motorcycle club that owned this place had taken her in when she was younger, afraid and on her own.
They’d nurtured her, protected her and then given her a job when she was ready to come out of hiding, and for that she was extremely grateful.
She owed her life and her sanity to the dangerous men in the MC, and she wouldn’t do anything to betray the trust between her and each member.
So she worked at the strip club, Filthy, which was located on the outskirts of Chicago, bartending and occasionally stripping when they were short staffed.
But mostly? She got called back for the lap dances.
Harlow hated doing that too, but she was a fantastic pickpocket. It was easy money, getting paid to sexually entertain a man as she stole the watch on his wrist, or the money in his pocket. They were always too busy staring at her assets to realize that she was a thief, and a damned good one.
Raider, one of the bikers who often acted as a bouncer, always let her know which rich men were the best option for her ‘services’, and they always split the profits after. He’d lead them to her, discreetly give her the green light and she’d work her magic.
Speaking of the sly devil...
“Missin’ me, sweetheart?” Raider asked as he appeared around the corner and sauntered behind the bar. He gave Harlow one of his signature smirks, the one he’d perfected to make all the ladies swoon, and she couldn’t help her answering smile.
“You know I always miss you,” Harlow answered honestly.
Raider was sexy as hell. Tall, lean with sinewy muscles that he often kept hidden behind simple black t-shirts, jeans and the leather cut that fit perfectly over his shoulders.
She’d called them vests when she’d first seen the leather draped over the club members shoulders all those years ago, and Raider had laughed loudly, the sound booming throughout the clubhouse she’d been taken to.
And then he’d told her to never call it that again before giving her a better understanding of the piece of clothing.
A cut was something bikers wore with pride. It wasn’t a vest, but a status symbol in the biker world.
The back of Raider’s cut had the ‘Devil’s Guardians’ logo stitched into the middle. The name of the club was in a half circle above it. ‘Chicago’ was just beneath the logo. The front, depending on your affiliation with the club, typically had a few, if not more, patches.
For Raider, his name was written on a rectangular patch that was stitched into the right hand side, just over his heart. Across from that, another patch held the title ‘enforcer’.
And probably the most important patch on his entire cut was the ‘1%’ stitched lovingly toward the bottom. It meant the Devil’s Guardians MC was a criminal organization, acting outside the law in whatever fashion they saw fit.
“Always missin’ me, huh? You know if you wanna fuck, I’m always down,” Raider said with a playful wag of his eyebrows.
Harlow rolled her eyes, throwing the towel she’d just used to wipe up a spilled beer right at his face.
He caught it easily, and then clutched his heart as if she’d wounded him. “Is that a no?”
“Considering it would be like having sex with my brother, that’s a definite no.” Harlow shook her head, pouring him a beer before he even needed to ask.
“I wouldn’t mind helping you out of the laundry machine when you got stuck,” Raider said with a wink, taking the beer from her hands and drinking deeply.
Harlow furrowed her brow in confusion as he downed the entire glass in a few seconds.
“You know-” Raider cleared his throat, and then said in a high pitched voice, “Oh no stepbro, I’m stuck-”
“I should have just thrown that drink in your face.” Harlow said with a laugh. “Maybe cool you off a bit since you’re clearly horny as hell.”
“I can’t help myself, Harley,” Raider said teasingly, knowing she despised the nickname. “Beautiful women all around me, a cool beer in my hands, of course I’m horny. By the way, a special guest just came in for you tonight.”
Harlow perked up at that.
Finally something to spice up her night.
“Oh? Where is he?”
Raider smiled at her knowingly. “Already sent him to one of the private rooms. The nice one. Treat him good, yeah?”
Harley raised a brow. Normally Raider didn’t give her orders when he sent her off to rob someone.
She opened her mouth to ask, but Dove interrupted them, all but purring in Raider’s direction.
“You know, Raider, if you’re needing any help to relieve some stress, I’m all yours.”
Ew. Ew, ew, ew.
That was Harlow’s cue to leave immediately.
Sensual music was playing and the lights were already dimmed by the time Harlow stepped into the private room in the back.
Despite the red neon lights being the only light in the room, it was impossible to miss the figure lounging on the sofa in front of her.
Even sitting, Harlow knew that he was tall and fit. He wore a black suit that fit him like a glove. The jacket was unbuttoned and hanging loose on his frame, and a silky tie blended in perfectly with his black button up shirt.
He looked good. Sexy, even though he was partially concealed in the dim lighting. And there, reflecting beautifully in the red neon light, was an expensive gold watch sitting nicely on his wrist.
No wonder Raider wanted her all over this guy if that was the kind of money he strutted around in a place like this.
She was gonna make a pretty penny when she sold that tomorrow morning.
Her eyes traveled reluctantly from her next month’s rent and up her client’s torso until they rested on his face.
Oh, shit. He was handsome. And everything about him screamed money, which was perfect.
Strong jaw, black hair that was cut short and styled to perfection, and piercing blue eyes that were so dark they almost looked black. A pair of thin, wire glasses sat neatly on his face, giving her a distinct impression that he was some kind of software engineer that had just grown into his looks.
A nerdy, sexy, software engineer that she was going to have no problem taking advantage of tonight.
He wasn’t smiling or studying her salaciously like most men did, and for some reason she was kind of disappointed that he seemed so disinterested.
She knew she looked good, so why wasn’t he affected at all?
“Do you have any rules before we start, darling?” Harlow dropped the pitch of her voice slightly until she sounded like every man’s breathy dream, and then she took a confident step toward him. And then another.
She didn’t wait for his reply before she slipped off her skirt and straddled his waist, her knees resting on the sofa on either side of his thighs.
She pressed her breasts against him, running her hands over the soft material of his suit until she found his black tie. Wrapping it around her hand, she yanked him up until his mouth was inches from hers.
When he breathed, she caught a faint trace of wintergreen and scotch as it mixed with his musky, sandalwood cologne. The smell of it settled nicely over her, seeping into her lungs as she breathed him in.
She wanted to rub herself against him like a cat in heat, to bottle that scent and keep it with her when she was lonely at night.
Maybe they had a dupe of his cologne at Macy’s.
His sapphire colored eyes watched her, almost like he was memorizing every detail of her face before they lowered to her lips.
“The only rules I have don’t apply to you.” His voice was deep and gruff. The kind of voice she wouldn’t mind waking up to after a night of fantastic sex, although he was probably into vanilla shit only, and that wasn’t really her thing.
Harlow had some devious desires, and she highly doubted this guy would be able to sate her needs, no matter how sexy he was.
The sexy ones were usually the most boring when it came to sex, which was really a shame. She doubted he’d degrade her and treat her like a whore while they fucked. Nope, instead he was sure to thrust into her a few times, come too soon and send her on her way with a pat on the ass.
What a bummer that would be.
A new song began to play overhead, and Harlow got to work.
Usually she tuned everything out when she performed, so used to giving a lap dance that it was almost mechanical in her mind.
Kind of like driving the same way to work everyday and not even realizing you were pulling into your parking spot because you’d been so focused on anything else but how god awful the drive was.
There was something a bit different this time, though. Maybe it was the cute, innocent guy who was clearly too shy to touch her in any fashion, keeping his hands fisted at his sides while she rolled her hips over his slowly growing erection.
Or maybe it was the way his watch gleamed in the faint neon hues, beckoning her to snatch it up at the first opportunity.
“Do you come here often?” she asked out of habit, but she couldn’t help the way she shivered in delight when his deep voice filled the air.
He shook his head, completely focused on her face as he answered. “First time.”
Why wasn’t he scoping out her cleavage? Usually she couldn’t get a guy to make eye contact with anything but her tits, and now this one was looking at her like she was a puzzle he needed to solve.
“First time here and you got me? You’re a lucky man,” she teased, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose.
“You kiss everyone that comes back here?” he asked, his voice growing taut with tension.
“Only the ones I like,” she whispered playfully, leaning in until her breasts were in his face. He looked down then, his face twisting with some dark emotion that had her breath catching and her pussy spasming with need.
She blinked once and the look was gone, making her wonder if she’d really seen anything at all.
Harlow’s fingers tightened on his shoulders before sensually running down his neatly pressed suit sleeves. She rolled her hips at the same time, teasing his now hard cock through his slacks.
God, he was freaking massive.
“You’re so big, darling,” she said with a throaty moan, really getting into her performance when his eyes clouded with lust.
Normally she didn’t get turned on doing shit like this, but she couldn’t help the growing desire that woke within her.
Just because she liked to torture herself, Harlow rubbed her slit over his stiff cock again and again, her lap dance turning into more of a dry hump than anything else.
His jaw clenched, and his eyes burned into hers as she continued fucking him through his slacks and her tiny thong.
She couldn’t help herself. She needed to distract him, and damn if it didn’t feel good as pleasure spread from her clit to her core.
It was too bad she was planning on stealing his things, otherwise she might be inclined to ask if he wanted to fuck after her shift ended tonight.
It had been a few months since she’d gotten laid, and considering how impressive his cock was, she’d be willing to try something more mundane for a change.
Her fingers trailed down to his wrists, her skin brushing his teasingly before she turned away from him, giving him a tantalizing view of her ass as she sat back down on his lap, facing away from him.
Harlow arched her back, knowing it made her ass look fantastic.
He bit out a sharp curse from behind when her ass jiggled as she began to ride his cock again, and she smiled. She had him right where she wanted him.
“You feel so good, baby,” Harlow crooned, moaning loudly for effect.
She’d already gotten what she came in here for, the watch resting easily in her closed hand, but she wanted him to cum in his tailored slacks before they parted ways. To give him a little piece of her since she’d taken a piece of him.
It was only fair.
Warm, strong hands landed on her bare waist, his fingers looping through the cloth of her thong as he dragged her back over him.
A thrill went through Harlow that she couldn’t quite keep at bay, and when his hands tightened on her hips, she let out a pretty moan she was sure he’d like.
“Normally I don’t let clients touch me,” she told him sensually, knowing that was a crock of shit.
“Only the ones you like, right?” he rasped in her ear, moving her hair aside to bite down on her earlobe.
Harlow jumped slightly at the sharp, unexpected sting, and a real, breathy moan escaped, her hips snapping over his cock on instinct.
“Oh, and I’m really starting to like you.”
His hand slid over her hip as it moved to the front of her body. And then he cupped her through her thong, the heat of his palm sending a zing of need straight to her pussy.
“I bet you think that about all the men you rob,” he whispered in her ear sweetly. Harlow stiffened, her lap dance stalling out as she processed his words through the thick veil of lust clouding her mind.
He snatched her by the hair before she could even attempt to escape from his lap, yanking her head back roughly.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice what you were doing because you have a nice ass and perky tits?”
His voice cracked at her like a whip, and Harlow shivered at the dominating tone, far more turned on than she should have been, and a shit load less terrified than she needed to be.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Harlow lied, squirming uncomfortably when his fingers tightened on her scalp. Her shifting put his cock right over her center, and she bit her lip to keep from moaning at how hard he still was.
He was getting off on treating her like this. He liked it.
Almost as much as she did.
“The last woman who had the balls to lie to my face ended up sucking mine a few minutes later.” He murmured, running his hot tongue up her neck.
Harlow shivered, closing her eyes briefly to savor the feel of his teeth as they scraped over her pulse.
One drawback of being a little twisted was that instead of being afraid of him, all she felt was a sick amount of anticipation of what he’d do next.
“Promises, promises,” she taunted, knowing he wasn’t going to try anything in here. She was protected by the MC. Safe.
“You need to learn a few manners, princess. And perhaps how to be a better pickpocket.”
Her mouth popped open in outrage, both at the condescending nickname and the insult.
“I’m an excellent pick-”
He bit her neck. Hard. And the pained moan that passed Harlow’s lips was full of agonizing need. He grunted when she rocked back on his lap, rubbing herself all over his hard cock.
If he wanted to play games, then she would too.
“Watch. Now.” He held up his palm in front of her face while his other hand twisted in her short black hair until she relented.
Harlow slapped the watch into his hand, expecting him to release her hair and send her on her way.
It wasn’t like he’d have the balls to actually do anything while inside a strip club owned by the Guardians. They were the law in this city, not some rich, handsome elitist.
“Get on your fucking knees,” he murmured, biting her neck until she cried out. “And if I have to tell you again, I’m going to blister your ass with my belt.”