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“She still turning you down?” I hear another man ask.
“Yeah.” The first man grunts in response. “I should just take her the club way. Bring her in, pin her to the club fuck table, and bang her. Claimed, instantly. Done with this courting bullshit.”
I freeze when I hear that. They rape women to claim as theirs? That makes me feel sick.
“Ever think she’s turning you down because maybe you have a small dick?” I hear my dad ask.
I can’t help the small giggle that escapes me as I head down the hall and into my room.
I quickly get dressed, just throwing on a pair of yoga pants and a tank top and go back out to the living room, where everyone has moved to.
“Got a prospect in the kitchen, he’s gonna cook up some breakfast. What d’you want?” Carson asks me.
“Bacon and eggs? And I want lots of runny yolk.”
He nods. “Prospect? You hear that?”
“Yeah, Pres!” gets shouted back.
“If her eggs aren’t the way she wants them, you’ll never get your patch.”
“They will be done to her perfection.”
I raise my brows at my father and shake my head. This club is so different. The Angels don’t have prospects, anyone that wants in, is just in.
“I’ll be in the next room with Rage, got shit to discuss. You stay here with these brothers and play with your kid.” He pauses before leaving and looks at me. “The Ass on the floor is Slammer, bitch on the couch is Dirty.”
He walks away, and I sit down on the couch. I turn to the man named Dirty and stare at him. I don’t get it. Why is that his nickname when he’s the cleanest guy I’ve ever met? His hands even look as if he gets manicures. Only thing that makes him look like he belongs in my dad’s club is the fact he’s extremely built and has tattoos all over his neck, hands, and arms.
“Why you starin’?” he asks.
“Uh, well, I was wondering. Why the name Dirty?”
“These fucks thought it would suit me, since I'm OCD about germs. Constantly washing my hands and any area I’m in, manicures all the time, manscaping, shit like that,” he tells me with a shrug, not giving a shit if what he just said takes a hit to his scary vibe.
“Where do you get your mani’s done? Because you do realize that nail salons are the worst places for someone that has issues about germs?”
“Yeah, we got girls at the club that can do that shit. I buy all my own stuff I keep in my room,” he replies, as if this really isn’t a big deal. “And my OCD isn’t really that bad. I just know that other people can be nasty, and some don’t wash their hands after using the bathroom. I ain’t touching a fuckin’ surface that could possibly have shit on it.”
Huh, I can understand that. Now my thoughts are about how many surfaces shit could be on. I shudder. I turn to look at Slammer, who is on the floor getting play tickled by Mikayla. Slammer looks similar to Dirty, but his hair is long, down to his shoulders, and his short beard is all scruffy, making his hotness ten times hotter. He's also bigger than Dirty. Where on earth does my dad find these type of men? “What about you? Oh wait! I know! Slam Her!” I bust out laughing, as does Dirty.
Slammer shakes his head. “Nah girl, got that name cos I’m in the Slammer often.”
“Oh, well, my version is better.” I give him a wink, and he smirks at me. Damn, he’s hot. If I wasn’t totally and completely in love with that ass, Dray, I would totally flirt with Slammer. Or hell, even Dirty. Never Rage. He’s one mean looking dude. I always thought Reaper was the scariest man I’ve ever known. My father and Rage have him beat by a mile. That’s not to say Rage isn’t a good-looking guy. To be honest, if I was into the scary look, I’d be all over it. Actually, if I was into guys double my age, I’d be all over it. But Tori told me a lot about Rage. Said if I thought Hangman was a bad man, well, he had nothing on Rage.
Thinking about Dray now, maybe flirting with other menisjust what I need. There is that old saying ‘to get over someone, get under someone new’ and that’s exactly what I’ve always done in the past. Although I never had a kid before, so this will be a little different. As long as it’s string free sex, I don’t see why I can’t indulge.
“What about me, you wanna know how I got my name?” Rage asks, coming out from the kitchen with Hangman following behind him.
“Not really. You scare the shit out of me, so I can only imagine how you got it.” I see my dad smirk.
Rage shrugs and walks off as the prospect who was making breakfast comes in with my food. I look at the plate and smile, and quickly mouth a thank you as I shove the food in my mouth.
“Guy is full of rage and goes off over the littlest shit, that’s how he got his name,” my dad tells me, looking amused as I finish stuffing all the food on my plate in my mouth.
“What?” It comes out more like ‘wah’ since my mouth is full.
The guys all laugh and shake their heads. “I take it the food was good?” The prospect asks.
