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Dash
Shot down. Again. I have no fucking clue why Peppermint is so hung up on our age difference. It’s not a big deal to me. I’ve slept with women of all ages and races. I love fucking, and I’m not used to being turned down over and over.
At this point, she’s a damn game to me, a conquest. I have to nail her. I won’t stop until I’m balls deep in her hot cunt and she’s screaming my name.
I’ve always been one to look for challenges. Never shied away from them. I suppose I get that from my dad. He liked challenges, too. His biggest one was balancing two families and them not finding out about each other. Asshole defeated that challenge for years.
I may enjoy challenges, but I am nothing like my dad. I don’t lie to women. I’m very straightforward about what I want and what they can expect from me: orgasms.
I glance over and catch Peppermint looking at me, her light blue eyes darting away when I grin at her. She fucking wants me. She just likes playing hard to get.
I go grab the last box so she and the girls can get to work unpacking. They open this weekend, and Skylar and Allie have already rearranged everything a dozen fucking times. If you ask me, the place looks great. It’s a damn bar. No one really cares what it looks like. So long as there are booze and women, the place will do fine.
“If you don’t quit moving shit around, you’ll still be rearranging the damn place when you open the doors,” Hunter gripes at Allie.
“Just move it over to the corner,” Allie orders. “And maybe I’ll be finished.”
He still hasn’t gotten used to the idea that she’s a Harlot. Oh, and one of the bartenders. Don’t know why he’s shocked. She tended bar at the clubhouse for years. Before I even pledged to the Bastards. Most of the Harlots are working here while they get the place up and running. Hunter is more upset that Allie is a Harlot, period. Guess I don’t see the big deal in the women having their own club. They help us with enough shit as it is, cleaning up wounds and being our alibis.
I learned a long fucking time ago a woman is vital. My mom taught me that. She held her shit together after finding out my dad had a wife and three kids two cities over. She got a job when he refused to pay child support. Busted her ass to provide for my siblings and me. To us and the rest of the world, she was a damn rock.
So for me, the Harlots are vital to the Bastards. When shit goes down, they’ll be there having our backs. And we’ll have theirs. If anyone tries to pull any fucking thing with them, they’ll have to answer to us.
I slide the box onto the bar, amused by Hunter and Allie’s bickering. They drive each other up the damn wall one minute, and are all over each other the next.
“You don’t seem too concerned with rearranging things,” I comment to Peppermint.
She shrugs. “They can make it look however they want.”
“Harlots’ Haven belongs to you too. You’re a Harlot. You can put your stamp on it just as much as they can.”
“I did put my stamp on it,” she replies. “The moment I signed the lease over.”
This place was her late husband’s. Skylar told me that. She was psyched when she bought the place. And Mason backed the Harlots on it, everyone agreeing to use the bar to launder money from our gun trade. The Harlots will get a percentage.
We’ve been providing protection for several businesses in exchange for laundering services. We can start charging for the protection now, but I know Mason. He won’t charge much so he can stay in the business owners’ good graces.
“You should put at least one thing in here from the original bar,” I suggest. “Bring back those original patrons, you know?”
“Not a bad idea. We had some signature drinks Ryan used to make. I can add them to the menu.”
I don’t ask if Ryan is her husband. I know he is. She has mentioned him before, but she doesn’t seem hung up over his death. Which is one of the reasons I can’t figure out why she keeps turning me down. I know she’s attracted to me. When I’m near her, I can see her cheeks flush, her intake of breath. She watches me when she doesn’t think I’m watching her.
I’m always fucking watching her.
“Perfect. We can celebrate the opening with those drinks,” I say. “Just the two of us.”
“Do you ever stop?” she asks, but her tone isn’t annoyed.
“Not until I get what I want.”
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Yep,” she says, pushing herself up on the bar. “I give in. Let’s just do it right here and get it over with.”
“If you want me to fuck you with an audience, I can do that,” I say, leaning in and standing between her legs.
Peppermint parts her lips, and I take that moment to fucking devour her. She resists a moment, pushing at my chest, but I persist until she opens her mouth for me and slide my tongue against hers. I’ll be damned if she doesn’t taste like fucking peppermint. I could do this all damn night. The only thing that stops me is the whistling and hollers from our friends. I smile as I break away from her, and she blushes.
“Can’t wait to see that blush while I’m pounding your pussy.”
I kiss the tip of her nose and help her down from the bar. She may try to convince herself it meant nothing. That the kiss had no effect on her. Her hardened nipples tell me otherwise. And I can’t wait to taste them. Can’t wait to taste all of her.
