Filthy Daddy

“That sounds like me,” Axe answers. His brow furrows, and his strong, lean arm locks around my waist. All the men look on at my less than convincing flirtatious demonstration. I’m a little rusty. The last time I came on to anyone I was three sheets to the wind and the guy was a notorious womanizer. My current target is a little more subtle, and I’m way less drunk.

“You should get me a drink at the bar. I could use the company before I leave to start my shift tonight.” I wink at him, licking my lips seductively. At least I hope it comes across that way.

Axe leans down and places his lips against the lobe of my ear. “You might want to have that drink with Tate,” he whispers, although I can tell he’s caught on to my little game and is happy to play along with any ruse that sets off Tate. The two of them are forever butting heads.

I rise up on my tiptoes and whisper back, “Isn’t it obvious?”

A grinning Axe tightens his hold around my waist, and leans down, pressing his mouth to the side of my neck. He lingers an extra-long time, nuzzling a small spot. “You’re one hell of a cock tease,” he says loud enough for everyone to hear, including Tate who’s standing less than six feet away from us. “Sure, I’ll buy you a drink. Keep it up, and I’ll get you anything you need.”

“It’s good to know someone around here will take care of my needs.” I trace the side of Axe’s face with my fingers, flashing him a megawatt come-hither smile that could probably knock any guy on his ass.

Axe plays his part perfectly. He grabs a handful of my thick dark hair. I let out a squeal as I tell him he’s a naughty boy.

“How long should I wait for Tate to step up and show me who’s boss?” he whispers, taking back his bottle of beer.

“Hell if I know. I thought the prick would do something the second you touched me.”

“I’ll up the ante. Tate’s always been fucking slow to make his move.” Axe snatches my hand that’s busy tracing the ridges of his six-pack abs through his shirt. “I’d love to see you without these clothes on,” he says for the guys to hear. “Maybe a fucking striptease is in order…and I do mean fucking.”

“Sounds hot!”

He looks up toward Tate. “Not that I need to ask, but I hope you’re cool with the idea of me and… your client.”

Heat rises up my cheeks. I don’t dare look at Tate. I gauge his reactions by the expressions of the other three guys standing around, and judging by the curiosity on these bikers’ faces, Axe and I are doing a damn good job. Axe places his hand on my lower back, overdoes his wink at the men, and steers me toward the bar. He pours me a drink, smiling as though it’s the most fun he’s had all day.

“Well, how’d I do?” I fake bat my lashes at him and reach to feel up his bicep, just to keep up the ruse.

“Smart move. He’s still staring over here. I’m sure he’ll lose his shit anytime now.”

Axe wolfishly grins and slides a hand along my upper thigh as he brings his face in close. “Hey, this routine can probably work on chicks too. You should be my wingwoman next time I’m out on the prowl.”

“Sure thing, stud.” I quickly grow tired of the game and frown a little. “It’s fucked up that I have to go to these lengths for him to acknowledge our…friendship.”

“Men are fucking cowards. Not just Tate.”

“And others turn out to be fucking psychos,” I sigh, thinking about my stalker ex.

“I take it you heard part of our conversation from the stairs.”

I fight the urge to look back across the room. “All of it, I think. I guess I should be grateful. At least I know where I stand.”

Axe takes a long swig from his beer. “Bullshit. He’s involved with you. Give him some time to man up.”

“Yea, whatever.”

“He’ll figure it out…or not,” Axe says, tapping his skull. “That kid’s a stubborn, twisted son of a bitch. It’ll take a hell of a woman to want him with all his fucking baggage, let alone pin him down. I always figured that’d be you.”

“Okay, I’ve had enough of this henhouse crap. He’s on his own.”