Down & Dirty: Dawg (Dirty Angels MC Book 7) Page 11
“What’s a club run?”
“When we all go out ridin’ our sleds together,” he answered.
“That sounds nice.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, it’s nice.”
“You guys do that often?”
“When the weather’s good, yeah.”
She looked up at the tall trees that lined the lot. At least there was shade where he parked. “So, what’s special about this park?”
“Gonna show you.”
“Don’t we need to get back? I need to get to work.”
“Don’t worry, I know the manager.”
“Well, sometimes he can be a bit of a grump,” she answered Dawg as he grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him.
“Was he grumpy when his face was buried in your cunt this mornin’?”
Her mouth dropped open.
“Was he grumpy when his dick was makin’ you squeal?”
“I didn’t squeal.”
“The fuck you didn’t. So loud my ears were ringin’. Musta been doin’ somethin’ right.”
Emma giggled. “Must have.”
As he led her along, she watched her footing as they traveled along a narrow dirt trail through the woods. She was glad she had thrown on a pair of sneakers this morning. Every time they’d pass hikers coming the opposite direction, they’d stare at Dawg wide-eyed. She guessed he wasn’t the sort of man you met along a trail in the woods. At least voluntarily. Then their eyes would land on him gripping her hand tightly as he pulled her along behind him and they would give her a look that almost seemed to be out of concern.
She’d just smile and trudge along after him, trying not to trip. Because if she did, he’d most likely continue to drag her over the tree roots and exposed rocks. He probably wouldn’t even realize he was hauling dead weight behind him.
She giggled at the image of a Neanderthal dragging his woman by her hair into his cave after clubbing her.
Mine.
Woman. Mine.
When she was least expecting it, he came to a dead stop and before she could slow her forward motion, she slammed right into his back.
“Hey!” she yelled at him. “A little warning would be nice.”
He said nothing, and she moved around him to see what he was staring at.
“Oh,” she breathed.
He had taken her to a waterfall deep within the woods. It was absolutely stunning. Breathtaking even.
“C’mon,” he grunted, then releasing her hand, climbed out onto a nearby boulder that overlooked the falls.
“Are you supposed to do that?” she called out as she watched him choose his footing carefully as he picked his way over the large rock.
He dropped to a seat, twisted his head toward her and held out his hand. “C’mon!”
She carefully climbed up onto the rock and when she reached him, he snagged her hand, tugged her in front of him and demanded, “Sit.”
She settled between his spread legs and he wrapped one arm under her breasts, pulling her back into his chest. The other snaked around her lower belly. With a sigh, she relaxed, leaned back, and let him take her weight.
“This is beautiful,” she whispered, peeking over her shoulder at him.
He was staring out over the falls, his green eyes dark in the low light caused by the shade of the trees. “Yeah.”
“I never knew this was here.”
“Then gonna have to bring your girl here when she gets home.”
When she gets home.
Emma’s breathing stuttered, her heart did a flip and suddenly the tears welled up in her eyes. What did she finally do right in her life to deserve this man? One who did not fit into any of the molds of acceptable society, but seemed to be more caring than the ones that did.
The waterfall became a blur as she leaned her head back against his shoulder and his arms tightened around her even more.
“Emma,” he murmured next to her ear.
She sniffled and wiped at her cheeks. “Yeah?”
“You got dealt a shitty hand. Gonna make it right. Got me?”
“Yeah, Dawson, I got you.” She twisted in his arms. “But I’m not sure why you feel you need to do that.”
“’Cause...” He stopped, his face got hard, and he didn’t say anything for the longest time. “Just because.”
Just because.
Just because he was Dawson. A good man. A caring man. A man nicknamed Dawg who, on the outside, could probably scare most people with a pointed glare, but inside had an enormous heart.
Oh Lord, she’d only known him for three days and...
She reached up and stroked her hand along his beard, the texture of it coarse and wiry against her fingers.
“I won’t ever be able to repay you.”
“You’ll find a way,” he said softly.
Emma had a feeling what he meant had nothing to do with money.
Chapter Nine
A sharp pain shot through Dawg’s chest as he watched Emma work the floor. It wasn’t the first night she worked where the club was packed solid. Two of his girls were currently on stage and were raking in the tips. Especially when they “played” with each other. Though neither were lesbians, they knew what the men liked and didn’t mind playing them, since it paid off. The evidence being the numerous dollar bills being thrown their way.
Cubby was busy behind the bar serving beer and drinks as fast as he could. The VIP rooms had a steady flow of customers and dancers going in and out of their doors. Moose was busy playing bodyguard outside of them, making sure that none of the girls got manhandled. Dawg had even called in a couple more prospects to help be bouncers for the night.
The floor was crowded, the cash was flowing, and Dawg should be very pleased, but he fucking wasn’t.
Ember was wearing a long sleek royal blue dress that she had borrowed from one of the girls, which worked perfectly with her blonde hair. The clingy dress had strategic slits in it, so when she moved a bare thigh would show, the flesh of her hip, or the curve of a breast. The back was open all the way to the top curves of her ass. The front plunged practically down to her fucking belly button. He had no idea how her tits weren’t falling out of it. One of the girls must have shown her the magic of double-sided tape.
But even so, he knew she wore nothing under that fucking dress. It would be impossible to do so. The only thing under that scrap of fabric was Emma herself.
And he did not like that at all.
He downed a shot of whiskey, then gritted his teeth as she moved from one customer to the next with a huge smile on her face, her eyes sparkling. They were all beckoning her over to them, vying for her attention.
He did not like that at all, either.
In fact, he fucking hated it.
But she was doing what he “hired” her to do, and that was work the crowd. Make her customers happy without getting naked. Encourage them to drink more, tip heavier.
When they begged her for a private dance, she’d call over one of the other girls and set them up. The dancers were making better money than they had in a while. That put her in good favor with them. And she had wormed her way into their hearts as she had his.
Again, the club was packed.
It couldn’t be Emma bringing in all the business, could it?
Were all these fucking men coming in to see her? To try to steal her away from him?
“Cubby,” he barked.
The bartender paused in mixing a drink. “Yeah, boss?”
“Why d’you think the place’s packed tonight?”
With a smile, Cubby finished topping off the glass with a squirt of pop from the dispenser gun. Then he jerked his chin toward Emma. “Think you found your golden goose, boss.”
“She ain’t even gettin’ naked,” he muttered.
“Don’t think she needs to be. It’s the chase they like. She ain’t giving anything up, so they want her even more. Temptation at its finest. They’re enjoying the pursuit.”
“Think so?”
�
�Yeah, boss. She’s like the untouchable and they all want to be the first one to score.”
Fucking nobody was “scoring” with her. Nobody.
His gaze pinned on the man who had an arm around Emma’s waist and his hand spread over her ribcage, having a deep conversation with her tits.
Fuck.
If she was on stage, the place would probably be a ghost town. Her dancing would chase them away. But working the crowd? Cubby was right. She was just out of reach for them. It was like dangling a carrot in front of the horse. Or donkey. What-fucking-ever.
From across the stage, Emma’s eyes met his, and she arched an eyebrow at his scowl. Then she returned her attention to the man who was now pawing at her hip and threw her head back. He could almost hear her throaty laugh over the music from where he stood.
Fucking bullshit. That’s what it was. Bullshit.
Dawg watched with narrowed eyes as Emma playfully dragged her fingers through the customer’s hair while bending over to whisper something in his ear in that ball-tightening voice of hers. The man finally lifted his gaze from her cleavage as Emma waved a hand at Savannah, who rushed over and escorted the man back toward the VIP rooms.
She landed another fucking sale. Just like that. A touch. A laugh. A whisper. And they were putty in her hands.
Suddenly, Emma was on the other side of the bar from him, frowning. “Why are you grumpy now? You’re having a great night. It’s busy. The girls are happy. Cubby’s even raking in the tips.”
“You bend over like that, he can see your tits.”
She glanced down at her dress then back up at him. “Okay?”
“You bend over like that, he can see your tits.”
“Okay? If I was on stage, he’d see my...” She shrugged, making the objects of this discussion jiggle beneath the thin, glittery fabric. “Breasts, anyway.”
“Ain’t on stage.”
“No, but—”
“Woman,” he growled.
Then she laughed. Laughed.
“Not funny.”
“Daw—Dawg, I’m doing what you hired me to do.”
“Know it.”
“I’m doing it well.”
“Know that, too.” She was doing it a little too well.
“So, stop being a grump.”
“Ain’t a grump.”
“Well, you sure look like one. You’d have a handsome face if you’d stop scrunching it up like you’ve been sucking on a lemon.”
“Don’t like ‘em touchin’ you.”
“It’s harmless. They’re just being friendly.”
Right. Friendly.
“Should fire your ass an’ just make you my house mouse ‘til all your shit’s settled.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
Yeah, that’s what he should do. Lock her up in his place and only let her out when he was with her.
Fuck! He couldn’t do that, but he was sorely tempted.
“Who did your makeup?”
Her delicate brows rose in surprise. “Cocoa. Why?”
It was perfect for her. Just enough to emphasize her girl-next-door looks. Hell, if he didn’t know better, he might wonder if she was a virgin himself.
His gaze swept the floor and the crowd of men filling the room. Fuck. Maybe they all thought she was a virgin and wanted to be the first one to pop her cherry!
No. Nobody at her age was a virgin anymore. Were they?
“Are you okay?” she asked, a look of concern on her face.
No, he was not okay. All these men wanted to stick their dicks in Emma.
A blood vessel throbbed at his temple.
Nobody was sticking their dick in his woman, except him.
His head jerked back. His woman?
Fuck him. She was here only temporarily. Just until she got her daughter back. He needed that reminder tattooed onto his forehead.
Fuck! He needed that tattooed onto his dick instead. So every time he looked at it, touched it, took a fucking piss, he’d be reminded of the truth.
She was not his woman. She’d never be his woman. She was only in his life for a short while. He was a means to an end for her.
He wanted to smash his fist into a wall. He wanted to beat someone to a bloody pulp. He grabbed a bottle of Jack and a shot glass and rushed around to the open end of the bar and toward the back of the club, ignoring everyone who called out a greeting. Including Emma calling out his name.
He moved past Moose standing guard outside the Red room.
“Boss,” he called.
Dawg ignored him, too. Whatever the prospect needed he could handle it himself.
Right now, he needed to down some whiskey and numb his brain. He needed to get his thoughts back on business and off Emma.
And that fucking dress she was wearing.
And her tits practically hanging out.
And those slits in that dress that played a sexy peek-a-boo with his customers.
And that man’s hands on her as she flirted with him, got him worked up, probably sporting a fucking hard-on while thinking he’d score with her.
He shoved the door to the back area of the club open and slammed it behind him. He took long strides into his office and slammed that door shut, too. None of it made him feel any better.
With a growl, he whipped the shot glass across the room and it shattered into a thousand pieces as it crashed against the wall. He untwisted the cap off the bottle and brought it to his lips, letting the smooth amber liquor slide down his throat, warm his belly, coat his jealousy.
She’d been in his life a little over a week now. Barely over a fucking week. And he’d totally lost his shit over her. Lost his damn mind.
He didn’t want any other man touching her, looking at her, thinking about her in the same way he did. Not even his customers.
When he lowered the bottle, he realized he’d guzzled a third of the whiskey in seconds flat. He barely stopped himself from chucking the bottle across the room, too.
He knew it wouldn’t take long for D’s crew to locate her daughter. Maybe a couple of weeks, a month at the most. They were good. They weren’t going to waste time. And then she’d be gone.
Gone.
Fucking gone.
Out of his life. Out of his bed.
What the fuck was about her that got under his damn skin?
“Dawson.”
Her low, honeyed voice washed over his addled brain and he squeezed his eyes closed. He couldn’t look at her. Not yet.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Yeah, you got under my skin, you crawled into my chest an’ burrowed yourself in deep.
That’s what you fuckin’ did.
You climb into my bed every night an’ make me wish that you’d do that every night for the rest of my life.
That’s what you fuckin’ did.
Every time you fuckin’ laugh or give me a smile that’s meant just for me, it rips me apart because I know you’re only here for a little while.
That’s what you fuckin’ did.
You made me want you desperately with every fiber of my being. Like a fuckin’ drug.
That’s what you fuckin’ did.
You call me Dawson instead of Dawg, no matter how many times I tell you not to.
That’s what you fuckin’ did.
That’s what you’ll continue to do.
‘Cause you’re you, Emma.
You’re you, baby girl. An’ I want you for the rest of my fuckin’ life.
“I... I don’t know what to say.”
He opened his eyes and spun on her. “What?” Did he say all that shit out loud?
Holy fuck.
“I never know what to say when you’re in a mood like this. If I did something wrong, I’m sorry. But I’m honestly not aware of doing anything, but what I was hired to do.”
Oh, thank fuck. That had been all in his head. And that’s where it needed to stay.
He blew out a breath. “Baby girl, you didn’t do nothin’ wrong
. Everything you’re doin’ is right. You’re packin’ the house. You’re bein’ the perfect hostess. You’re makin’ the customers happy. It ain’t you.”
No, it ain’t you. It’s me.
A muscle in his jaw ticked. It was him. Him. He allowed this to happen. He opened the fucking door and let her in. Hell, dragged her in. He got involved with her life, her problems.
For some crazy reason, he wanted her to discover that there was more to him than what other people saw.
He wanted to be her fucking hero. He wanted to be the one that could do what no one else could do for her.
What he couldn’t even do for himself.
How could he accept his own daughter being ripped from his life, but he couldn’t accept Lily being ripped from hers?
He was fucked up.
He didn’t even realize she’d moved closer to him. He’d been too caught up in his own fucked up thoughts.
Her hero.
What a stupid fuck he was. Someone who peddled pussy to horny men would never be anyone’s hero.
She stepped toe to toe with him and looked up with her heart-stopping blue eyes. “I don’t want to make you unhappy. I know I forced myself into your life, begging for you to help me... Desperation makes people do things they normally wouldn’t do.”
“Like sleepin’ with me?”
She dropped her gaze. “No.”
He reached out, grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling it back enough to tip her face to his, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Sure ‘bout that?”
“Yes, I’m not sleeping with you for any reason other than I want to. I swear. You...”
“I what?”
His eyes were drawn to her throat as it undulated when she swallowed hard. “You make me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time. I had shut that part of me down a while ago. I never expected to find it again with you.”
His heart began to beat so hard that he thought she could hear it over the thumping of the music that seeped through the walls.
“Emma,” he murmured.
“Yes?”
“Ain’t lyin’ to me, right?”
“I have no reason to lie to you, Dawson. You told me it was my choice to sleep with you. My only obligation was to be your hostess.”
“So if I wanted to fuck you right now, you wouldn’t say no.”
Her lips curved just slightly at the ends. “Do you?”