Page 27 of Kick

“You get your muddy boots off my table, Mister. I don’t want to give Jett a reason to fire me.”

“Prez isn’t gonna fire you, darlin’.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t afford to take that chance. I can’t shoot a gun and I don’t ride a motorcycle, so unless I’m doing my job properly, I’m not much use to him.”

I laugh, wondering how she’s so completely oblivious. “I’m sure he’d find other uses for you, Raine.”

She shakes her head and carries the jug and our empty glasses to the bar, dumping them in the sink. As she clears the bar she snags the bottle of black Sambuca and then leans over to grab a clean shot glass. Her already short skirt rides up and I catch a glimpse of a white lacy G-string. I tilt my head for a better look and say roughly, “I’m sure we could all find plenty of other uses for you, darlin’.”

“Stop,” she warns, walking towards me on her spiky heels. There’s a rejuvenated skip to her step, though. Raine sits down on the couch beside me, placing the shot glass on the coffee table. She fills it and hands it to me. I down the shot and then place it back on the table, signalling for her to pour another. When she’s done, I lift the glass and offer it to her. She smiles and shakes her head. “I don’t drink while I’m working.”

“Drink the motherfuckin’ shot, darlin’.” I hold it to her lips and she tries turning her head away but I grasp the nape of her neck in my hands, tipping her head back along with the shot so that she has no choice but to open, unless she wants it spilled down the front of her top. “Thatta girl, open up and say ah.”

She glares at me when I pull the shot glass away, but I’m distracted by the drop of Sambuca that’s escaped the corner of her mouth and is running down her face. I pull her towards me and run my tongue along her throat, collecting the droplet off her chin. I smash my lips into hers, forcing my tongue into her sweet little mouth, tasting the liquor on her breath. She makes a sound of protest and tries to ease away, but I hold her to me until I’m done trying to wrench an emotion other than frustration from my consciousness. I draw a big fucking blank.Surprise, sur-fuckin’-prise.

I release her and flop back into the couch, defeated, horny, and feeling like I have a fuckin’ conscience. I don’t fuckin’ like it.

“Kick …” Raine begins

“Nah, it’s alright, darlin’.” I lean forward and grab the bottle from the table, taking a hefty swig of the stuff that tastes like shit, but it keeps me from thinking about the rock-hard cock tucked away in my jeans that I’m ignoring. I pat her knee with my free hand. “I got enough bitches to contend with as it is. Besides, Prez would probably kick my arse anyway.”

“Why would he kick your arse? Because I’m the hired help?”

I laugh. “Oh sweetheart, tell me you’re not that fucking clueless?”

“Screw you,” she says and stands, getting ready to huff off in a fucking pansy-arsed little bitch fit.

I grab her arm and yank her back down onto the couch. “The man wants in your sweet little lacy knickers, Raine.”

“But he’s married?”

“Yes, he is.” I take another swig from the bottle.

She frowns, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did he … did he say something to you?”

“Didn’t have to. It’s written all over that dumb fucker’s face.”

She straightens her top, yanking hard on the hem, and then balking when she sees she just exposed more of her precious lacy underwear than she intended too. Her face is beet fuckin’ red.

“You’re a perfect fuckin’ ten, darlin’, just the way you are. Some of these bitches need all that shit: hooker heels, short skirts, the make-up … you don’t. You’re not gonna lose your job because you’re not dressing like a slut. In fact, Prez might fire you because you’re trying to look like a slut. Fucker is crazy jealous.”

She smiles. I’m sure deep down somewhere in that girly head of hers she’s twisting my words the way women do. She’s probably telling herself right now that I’m only humouring her. I’m not. I don’t bullshit people unless I think I can gain something from it. Raine’s legs are firmly closed to me and despite the fact that my cock is gonna be starved for pussy for fuck knows how long, I’m okay with that. I wasn’t lying when I said Prez would likely beat my head in if he walked into the club and caught me fucking Raine; he really would beat the shit outta me. Her first shift he called a club meeting to tell us what was going down with her, and to let us know that if he caught any of usgoingdown on her, he’d beat the holy living fuck out of us. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that he was factoring his own needs into that equation.

“Perfect ten, huh?” Raine asks, jolting me back into the room.

I nod.What, does she want it in fucking writing?

“And what’s Ivy?” She’s not asking ’cause she’s jealous; I don’t think Raine has a malicious bone in her body, but she’s gently poking buttons that she has no right to be pushing at.

A humourless laugh escapes me. “Ivy is a red-hot fuckin’ mess.”

“She was when you left her in the hall the other day.” She quietly adds, “I’ve never seen her look so broken, Kick.”

Ah, hell. This is why I’ve stayed in my room for three fuckin’ days. Knowing that shit is one thing, but having to deal with the fallout? I’d rather take it up the arse with a sword than deal with that clusterfuck. “Yeah, had to be done though.”

She nods. “That doesn’t mean it was easy for you.”

“You got a point, Raine? Or are you just gonna poke at the past and make me feel even more like shit?”

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