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“You feeling better, kid?” Tac reaches over the bar and ruffles his hair.
“No, shit was nasty. Remind me never to fuck off a Russian.” Storm pours them both a bourbon and then heads off to serve Troj. The club gets busier as the night goes on. It’s too crowded, and there seem to be a lot more hangouts than usual here tonight. I’m starting to feel suffocated.
“You need a hand?” I hear her voice before I see her and when I turn my head, I realize that she’s talking to Storm. Rogue rounds the bar and lifts up the hatch, starting to serve drinks like she’s been doing it her whole damn life. She’s a natural, and I hate the way every man in the fuckin’ building is eyeing her up like fresh fuckin’ meat.
“You tapped it yet?” Squealer creeps up behind me, and when I look over my shoulder and see the way he’s looking at her, it makes me wanna cause him physical fucking pain.
“It ain't like that, I’m just taking care of her for Skid.” I clench the bottle tight in my hand.
“Just how well you takin’ care of her…? You know, the way she’s shaking that cute little ass behind that bar is gonna give brothers the wrong impression on why she’s here,” he taunts.
“What was that, Squeal?” Rogue comes over right on cue, looking him over and rolling that tongue of hers on the inside of her cheek.
“Just speakin’ to Grimm here about you helping out.”
“Storm was struggling, so I’m helping. That ain’t an issue, is it?” She widens her pretty blue eyes innocently. I still don't know why she came down here in the first place. Rogue never hangs out at the clubhouse. I don’t like her down here. She doesn’t belong among these people. I want her back in my space, where no one can be thinking about her with their dirty, decrepit thoughts.
“Ain’t no issue. You’re free game, darlin’. No claim, no blame…” The way Squealer looks at me when he says that throws down a challenge, and I snigger and look away, refusing to give him a rise.
“I’m not game, and I’m certainly no one’s to claim,” Rogue snaps back at him.
“Prove it,” he dares her, his huge tattooed arms leaning forward to rest on the bar and his nose just inches away from her chest. He looks up at her seductively and the smile she gives him back is darker than the devil’s asshole.
“Oh, I’ll prove it, to all of you.” Rogue’s attention is directed at me now and her eyes scorch, stirring up all the temptation inside me to rein her the fuck in from whatever it is she’s thinking about doing.
She moves out from behind the bar, swaying her hips as she makes her way toward the stage. No one ever really uses it anymore, it’s just something that’s always been here. Years ago, this place had been a vacation site and this had been the entertainment hall. Now, it looks like Rogue is about to make herself the main event.
I watch her pull herself up onto the stage, ignoring the way Squealer smiles victoriously beside me.
She isn’t exactly dressed for the occasion, but she still looks hotter than sin. In a pair of cut-off jeans and the shirt of mine that she’s got tied up around her waist.
I’m not sure who’s in charge of the music, but I’m about ready to slit their fucking throat when the track playing changes to something more seductive and moody.
Rogue begins to move, in the same way she would have at The Orchid Lounge if I hadn't been there to stop her. But Rogue isn’t there now. She’s on our territory. She’s safe and I have no reason to stop her from shaking that ass of hers, other than my own selfish ones.
The girl knows how to test me, she wants me to give her the same reaction as I had then and I can feel my restraint snapping when I sense the eye of every fucker in the club on her.
She moves slowly, untying my shirt and creasing it up in her hand. Then teases when she fists it between her legs. I lean forward and rest my elbows on the bar, watching her undo the buttons on her bottoms. She’s waiting for me to stop her, she wants me to break and admit that I don’t like what she’s doing. Part of me wonders if she wants me to prove her wrong, and claim her, here and now with everyone watching.
But I won’t break. I can’t break.
She tosses the shirt off stage and runs her hands over her body like she’s getting herself off. Then when she slides her hand into the waist of her denims, it earns her a roar from her audience.
Squealer looks like a fucking kid at Christmas, and I lean in just close enough for him to hear me.
“You may be a fuck ton bigger than me, but I’m smart, Squeal. You kill those thoughts from your head or I’ll make sure your dick goes into retirement way before it’s fucking time,” I warn him.
“Calm down, kiddo, let’s just enjoy the fucking show.” He winks and nods his head toward the stage where Rogue has pulled open her shorts, revealing her hot-pink panties.
“If I were you, I’d be focusing all them smarts you got into reining that little cray cray the fuck in.” He smacks me on the back before leaving me to join his brother, who’s also watching the show intently, getting his cock sucked by Paige.
It’s a slow, torturous three minutes before the song ends. Thankfully, Rogue doesn’t strip down any further than her underwear, which I guess is a small mercy.
She’s still tying my shirt around her waist when she comes back to the bar looking mighty proud of herself.
“Can I get ya something, Grimm?” she asks with a sarcastic bite that has me biting on the inside of my cheek.
I ignore her and do the only thing I can think of that’s gonna take the edge off. Pulling the baggy out my pocket, I shake out a small line on the arch of my hand, then inhale.
