Burned (Devil's Blaze MC, #2)(9)

“I bet you a C-note you can’t tap that,” Sabre says, reclining back in his seat.

“You make it too easy. It’s like taking candy from a baby,” I tell him with an easy grin.

“I don’t think so, Torch, brother. Something about that woman says to back the f*ck away,” Latch warns me.

“You see that, and all I see is the warm * I’m going to bury myself in for a couple of hours.”

“Just a couple of hours?” Sabre teases.

“Yeah. After that, I’m coming back to collect your money.” I get up and saunter over to the lady in question.

“Crash and burn, Torch!” he yells out, and I hold my hand over my shoulder to flip him off.

I lean against the bar, standing beside little Miss-make-my-dick-cry-mercy. She’s the hottest thing I’ve seen in a while, which is good because I’d never admit it to those sad f*cks back there who are basically sown up over one woman. I haven’t found a woman my dick has been interested in for freaking months. Two, to be exact. That might not sound like a lot to some people, but for me, it’s a freaking lifetime. My cock is all-in with this little number, though. Thank God.

She’s a gorgeous brunette. Hell, even with the smoke in the bar and the dim lights, the color glows. It falls in waves down her back and over her shoulders, and I literally ache to wrap my hands in it. Her skin is tanned, and I’d love to lick every inch and see if it tastes half as good as it looks. She’s squeezed into a tight black skirt. I’ve already memorized every curve and pull at the fabric so I can jack off to her later.

But the top is just as good as the bottom. She has the sexiest little black top I’ve ever laid eyes on. Small black straps caress her shoulders, and silky fabric clasps her breasts close and draws attention to them. Fuck me, they are easily a D-cup or bigger. Years of experience makes me feel comfortable enough to say that. Still, what really makes my balls heat up is the way her tits keep trying to bust out as if they can’t be contained by clothes alone. Those breasts are made for a man’s dick to slide in between. My eyes drink it all in. I have to move my hand down to stretch and shift my cock. Sweet mother of God. Yeah, he’s more than standing at attention for that thick ass, f*ck-me tits, and climb-me legs.

She’s yet to notice me as she chats with the bartender. It’s enough to give a man a complex. I’ll have to punish her for that later. The bartender’s eyes are glued to her breasts, and I think it’s about time that stops. Those are mine tonight. He can try again tomorrow after I’ve finished with her.

I lean down against the bar, look directly at her instead of him. “Jack and Coke,” I order, waiting for her to say something.

She stops talking to what’s-his-face and turns her attention to me. Green eyes. I don’t ever remember having seen eyes this particular color before. I don’t think I’ll be able to ever forget them now. The color of a murky sea, they draw me in. She looks me up and down while sucking on a straw. She slowly puts her glass down and tilts her head to the side to get a look at me.

I speak first. “Can I buy you a refill?”

She shrugs. “If you want, I won’t stop you.”

“What are you drinking?”

“White chocolate martini.”

“That’s not exactly a manly drink to order—”

“I’m not a man.”

“Oh, I noticed, girl… I noticed.”

“Here’s your Jack and Coke,” the bartender grumbles over my shoulder. He slams the drink down beside me in a thank-you-for-cock-blocking-me kind of way. He’s more than welcome.

“The lady here will have another martini,” I tell him while taking my drink and sliding onto the stool beside her.

She watches me drink and shakes her head.

“Something on your mind?” I ask, studying the look in her eyes.

“Just appreciating the fact that my drink wasn’t manly enough for a Jack-and-Coke kind of guy.” She leans in, smirking.

She’s more than halfway drunk, which is kind of a shame, but not a deal breaker by a long shot. She has sass and, f*ck, I can definitely appreciate that.

“Don’t dis the Coke, man. It lets me stay sober and still get a kick from the Jack… so I can admire your fine ass longer.”

“Did you just say ‘fine ass’ …?”

“Oh, yeah. You have one very fine ass.”

She takes her drink from the bartender without even acknowledging him. I can’t help but shoot him a look of victory. Fucker wants to deck me right now.

“Do these lines actually work for you?”

“They’ve been known to,” I answer honestly.

“Damn, I thought I was drunk enough, but apparently I’m not, because so far they’re not working at all on my fine ass.”

“Ouch.” I smile, taking another gulp and enjoying this conversation way more than I would have thought.

“In fact,” she adds, leaning in closer to me, and I can only hope her breasts come out to play as she leans further—surely another inch and nipples will be visible. “You could even say I’m kind of… bored.”

Those words would chill a lesser man, but the light in her eyes and the smile on her face tell me different. I put my drink down, then move my finger along the side of her face.