Madeline Sheehan - Undeniable

Christ.

"Bitch, I don't wanna fuck you so I ain't gonna buy you drinks and tell you how fuckin' hot you are hopin' you're gonna spread those bony ass legs for me, cuz one, you're not hot, you might be someday if you start eatin' but as it is right now, you're not. And two, I don't wanna fuck you so I’m givin' it to you straight. Fuck off."

She blinked. Then she leaned forward and placed a bony hand on his chest. And smiled. He stared down at her hand debating on whether or not he should break her fingers.

"Wherever you want it, however you want it," She breathed. "Right here, in the bathroom, behind the club. Where. Ever. You. Want. It."

His eyebrows shot up. She had either major self-esteem problems or some serious daddy issues or maybe she was just plain fucking crazy.

"Kami!" A female voice squealed. "Kami!"

The bitch beside him straightened up and looked around. "Evie?" She yelled.

A giggling mass of dark brown hair surged forward through the crowd of people and barreled straight into the blonde. They were both shitfaced; instead of hugging they just kind of fell into each other and then into him. Annoyed he shoved them both backwards and the blonde's drink went flying. People scattered as the glass shattered.

Laughing hysterically and clinging to each other, they both stood up straight. He watched, frozen, as a Horseman's tag slipped out from the brunette's shirt. Her imposter of a shirt.

Then she flipped her hair out of her face and his blood ran cold. Then hot. Really fucking hot.

Last time he had seen Eva Fox he'd been two seconds away from sinking balls deep into all that sweetness and he'd taken two bullets because of it.

"Kami!" Eva cried, oblivious to his presence. "Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Oblivious was the last thing he was. Bitch had on some kind of shirt that wasn't actually a shirt but a triangle of sequins that appeared to be staying on her only by a complicated looking series of strings. The fucking thing barely covered her tits. Her fat, heavy, perfect tits. Her entire back and her midriff were exposed, her belly button pierced with some shiny fucking bullshit and the rest of her was incased in tight black leather pants. Tight as in he was damn positive she'd had to lube up her legs and juicy as hell ass to get those bad boys on.

On her feet, black chucks.

His chest tightened.

Now standing, she tucked his old man's tag back inside her non-shirt and did a little wiggle as she straightened her top that wasn't actually a top causing her tits to bounce. He got hard. Just like that. Like he was seven-fucking-teen.

Still giggling, she surveyed her surroundings, finally catching sight of him. Her -made to suck cock- lips parted, her stormy eyes went wide and she swayed a little to her right.

"Deuce," She whispered.

He didn't know what the fuck to say so he said the first thing that popped into his head.

"Babe."

Kami looked between them. "You know him?"

"Yeah," she said, her eyes on him. Jesus Christ, those eyes. She was damn beautiful.

"Introduce us!"

"Deuce, this is my friend Kami, Kami this is my…friend Deuce. But-

She turned to her friend. "He's married. Got kids too. So hands off."

He stared at her, confused. He was married? He had kids? Oh right. He was sorta married. And yeah, he had kids. He loved his kids. Their mother…not so much.

"Shame," Kami purred. “The whole scary faced, bad ass biker thing is really working for you.”

His lip curled in disgust. He’d just told this bitch he found her unattractive, that he in no uncertain terms wanted anything to do with her and yet she still wanted it. Fucking whore. Fucking fucked in the head stupid fucking whore.

"He's not scary," Eva scolded. "He's beautiful."

Fuck…him.

No one had ever called him beautiful and he was pretty sure he'd never wanted to be called beautiful until Eva Fox had called him beautiful and now he wanted her to say it again. But this time he wanted balls deep inside of her while she said it.

"Do you want to dance?" Eva asked.

His eyes refocused. "What?"

"Dance. Do you want to?"

"No."

"No?"

"This isn't music and I can't dance."

She bit her lip and he knew she was trying not to laugh at him. Usually when people laughed at him, or tried not to laugh at him, neither of which was often because he wasn't a funny guy, he punched them in their fucking face. Eva laughing at him made his cock twitch. This bitch did strange shit to him. His fucking brain didn't work around her and his balls fucking swelled, ready to repopulate the world as long as he was doing it inside her pussy.

"Everyone can dance," She giggled.

He shook his head. "I can't. I lumber. My wife says I lumber."

She wrinkled up her nose. "Your wife is a fucking cunt."

He choked. Coughed. Pounded on his chest. Took a long swallow of his beer. Cleared his throat.

"Darlin', you have no idea."

Grinning, she sidled up next to him and leaned her shoulder against the wall so the front of her body faced his and took a sip of her drink. Her bright pink drink with a pink umbrella and lots of floating cherries that reeked of tequila.

He narrowed his eyes. How long had it been since he'd last seen her, since he'd taken two bullets because he’d been a fucking moron.

It hadn't been five years, so he knew she wasn't twenty one.

"How old are you darlin’?"

Her lips quirked. "My I.D. says I'm twenty four."

He raised an eyebrow and smiled. "And what does your birth certificate say?"

She looked him dead in the eyes and he felt himself leaning towards her.

"I'm eighteen," She said quietly and her eyes went soft. He knew that look. Fucked a lot of women in his life, knew the signs and knew them well. Eighteen year old Eva Fox was handing him her pussy on a silver platter.

And he was fucking starving.

Fuck.

"Deuce?" She leaned into him, pressing her fat tits against his arm.

He stared down at her. "Yeah?"

Keeping her eyes locked with his, she wrapped her hand around as much of his bicep as her fingers could reach and started slowly sliding her hand down his inner arm. When she reached his palm, her fingers spread out and slid between his. Her hand folded closed. He closed his over hers.

"Let's dance," She whispered.

"Okay," He whispered back because, fuck, he didn't know which way was up at the moment.

Those unfathomably plump lips split into a smile and his cock freaked the fuck out. If she hadn't started leading him out into the club he would have thrown her up against the wall and slammed his way home.

She took him dead center of the dance floor. It was packed with bodies. Sweaty, writhing bodies. He felt completely out of his element.

Then Eva began to move and he forgot all about elements and skinny bitches and stupid red disco balls. All he could see was Eva. Nothing else existed but Eva and what she did to him.

With her back to his front, she lifted her arms over her head and hooked her hands around his neck. He grabbed her, harder than he meant to, and dug his fingers deep into her hipbones. As her juicy ass hit his cock, he groaned.

"All you have to do is move with me!" She shouted over the music.

He didn’t, he couldn’t, he was far too busy trying to convince himself it would be a bad idea to take her right then and there, on the dance floor.

Her ass was grinding into his rock hard cock; her head had fallen back on his chest and her hands…

She grabbed his hands, interlocked their fingers and had him stroking across her bare stomach, her hips, the vee between her legs, and, fuck him, her tits. When he couldn’t take much more, he slipped his hand down her pants and gave her what she was silently begging him for.