The Fallen (A Sons of Wrath Prequel) (7 page)

CHAPTER 6

Karinna carried the tray of shooters through
Chix
’s typical Friday night clusterfuck and made her way toward the booths. “What can I get you?” she asked, stopping beside one.

The large male, decked out in black leather—muscular, but not bulky—took up most of the booth. His brow kicked up over oddly silver-colored eyes that devoured her in one long glance.

As a stripper, she’d become no stranger to eye-banging, but something in his gaze had her cheeks flushing and pesky little lust fairies tickling her stomach.

A nagging familiarity hung on the air.
Goddamn, he’s hot.

She couldn’t recall seeing the man before, so unless she’d gotten totally shitfaced—something she didn’t do too often—the likelihood that she’d met him out back at some point was pretty slim.

Heat warmed her muscles under the weight of his stare.

His strong, square jaw shifted, as if he ran his tongue over his back teeth. Guy had a badass persona, dangerous, like Arnie in
The Terminator
movies, if Arnie had been more ‘
come with me if you want to live’
, with a dash of exotic and
too-damn-sexy-to-be–in-a-strip-club
. A perfectly trimmed shadow of stubble matched the jet-black hair on his head. Only took a second’s glance to know those broad shoulders followed a perfect V to what probably ended in one helluva tight ass.

Honestly, though, his kind pissed her off.

They didn’t fantasize about strippers in a
take-you-home-to-meet-my-mom
way. Not that the guy looked like he gave a shit about what his mom thought. And not that Karinna wanted to be taken home to his mom. Still, though, the kind of men she encountered most of the time acted like they’d have donated their left nut to be worshipped by the women who worked at
Chix
.

Whereas the guy sitting in the booth looked like he’d had his fair share of women grasping for his fig leaf, hoping to be graced by the vision of his glorious phallus beneath.

Karinna put on a smile, withering the awkward exchange of silence. “I got Mind Eraser, Japanese Sex and Kamikazes. Take your pick.”

“Whiskey. Straight.”

“Not on this tray. I’ll let your girl know. Shot a whiskey, coming up.”

“I didn’t say a shot.”

“Two buck, or nothing.”

“I’ll start with a double, then. Have another ready to go.”

“Double whiskey. Sit tight.”

Karinna put the order in to Jinks—short for Hijinks. All the waitresses called him that because the dude could get pretty damn ridiculous after a few shots. Not in a mean, bar brawl way, more like jumping up on the bar and impersonating the
Coyote Ugly
chicks sort of drunkenness—assuming he’d had enough Tequila.

A hand gripped Karinna’s arm, tightening her muscles, and Tammy released it as she turned to meet her gaze.

“Sorry, I know you don’t like to be touched.” The busty blonde nodded her head toward the stranger. “Who’s the hottie with the body?”

“Body? He’s covered head to toe in black leather.”

“Check out his guns, though! They practically pop through his sleeves,” she said on a breath. “I’ll bet he’s hung like a fucking horse, too.”

“Want me to ask him for you?” Karinna smirked. “Hey, my friend over there wants to know if you offer an hourly stud service. She’s hot to trot!”

“No!” Tammy’s brows furrowed but only for a second before a smile stretched her lips. Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, she nibbled, eyes locked on him. “I’d ride him like a bull-riding bitch on Shine, though. Did you see the size of his thighs when he sat down? Holy shit. He’d have my pussy tight as a mosquito stretched over a rain barrel.”

Karinna frowned.
Gross.

With an unabashed smile, Tammy shrugged.

Big guy shifted in his seat and turned his head in the girls’ direction.

Eyeing the shot sitting on the bar, Karinna leaned forward, nabbed it up and handed it to Tammy. “Here, be my guest.”

All smiles, and eyes lit like a little girl who’d gotten her pony, Tammy hoisted her breasts into her too-tight tank. She sniffed the shot and cringed. “Phew! Whiskey. You can tell a lot about a man from what he drinks.” Her eyebrow arched. “This one likes it hard. Bitter.” Her lips emphasized the last word. She faked a shiver, snatched the shot, and sashayed like she had a cat’s tail hanging off her ass, right over to the table.

He sat up, gave Tammy a once over, and his gaze landed back on Karinna. Without so much as a flinch, he downed the shot and handed the glass back to her, his lips moving like he’d spoken.

Tammy glanced over her shoulder and nodded before making her way back to Karinna’s side. “You were supposed to have another on deck.”

“My bad.” Karinna rolled her eyes. “Jinks,” she called out. “Another double whiskey.”

He winked and pulled a shot glass from beneath the bar, filling it with amber liquid. Like before, she handed the shot glass off to Tammy, who shook her head.

“He wants
you
to serve him.”

Karinna raised her brows. “
Serve
him?” She scoffed and strode toward the booth, setting the drink on the table.

A hot grip cinched her wrist, and she tensed. Something powerful surged beneath his skin. Strangely familiar. It pulsed against her flesh, and Karinna glanced down to see her dainty looking wrist swallowed by his big hand.

As if he’d sensed her discomfort, he immediately released her. “Another.”

“You’re gonna be shitfaced. Slow down.”

When he turned away, she rubbed the spot where he’d touched her. A lingering prickle danced along her bones.

“Another,” he said.

“I’ll get your waitress.”

“I want to be served by you. Only you.” His tone held the richness Karinna imagined dark chocolate would sound of, if it could speak, and something in it told her he wasn’t referring to test tube drinks and shots of some hard shit. Rather, the power it held seemed to offer a warning—that the kind of hard shit he was looking to be served would leave her limping the next day.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I serve no one.”

The tattoo on his right arm peeked through the sleeve of his jacket, and Karinna tipped her head, eyes pinned on the intricate lines interlacing each other like a set of overlapping cuffs.
Sadismen
. She stifled a gasp at the revelation. “Hey.”
Christ, how do I say this?
For as many times as she’d been propositioned, the words,
wanna fuck
, suddenly sounded impolite. According to Shannon, she’d have a better chance suffering a shark attack in the Detroit River than finding that signature tattoo.
Must be my lucky night
. “I want in.”

Something flickered in his eyes and his lip twitched. “In?”

“Your tattoo. You’re Sadismen, right?”

He gave a cursory glance around before his gaze trailed slowly back to her. “Considering you just let every bastard in earshot know what a motherfucker would
kill
to keep secret, I’m guessing you don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“How ‘bout you enlighten me, then?”

“How ‘bout you get that fucking double, like I asked?”

As she cleared his table of empty shot glasses, her smile said,
sure
.

Her thoughts?

How ‘bout you shove that double square up your ass.

Considering he bore the elusive
Where’s Waldo
of tattoos, though, she bit back the remark and turned toward the bar, hands itching to crush the glasses in her grip.

“How much?” That chocolate voice stopped her mid-step.

She paused. “How much what?”

“For you.” Words aside, those silvery eyes fucked her with a once-over, tits to legs.

Apparently, propositions came easier for him. She set the glasses back on his table. “Depends on what you’re looking for.”

He licked his lips, and the lust fairies reared their ugly heads once more. “I’m looking to have my tongue buried in your pussy.”

Karinna swallowed a gulp and resisted the urge to give in to her knocking knees. She could probably count how many times she’d heard those words, and yet, somehow, coming from him, they had her nipples standing at a high salute.

She cleared her throat. “No one touches me there for less than a hundred bucks.”

“Let’s go.”

“Right now?” Her heart galloped. Why did it gallop? Not like she hadn’t been asked before.

Instead of answering, he rose from the booth and walked like … like she should’ve just followed. By some force of magnetic pull that had part of her twisting with frustration, she did just that, following behind like a lost puppy, out toward the back of the bar.

The guy had to duck through the back door. Duck. Because he stood that tall. The booth served him little justice in terms of really emphasizing his size. She shot Quentin a wink on the way out—universal stripper talk for
if I’m not back in the time it takes to give this guy a blowjob, come investigate.

Cool spring air kicked up, and Karinna rubbed her arms. Why did the guy have her feeling like a virgin on prom night?

Instead of staring awkwardly at one another as she’d expected, he crowded her against the wall and eased down to his knees, keeping his eyes on her. He didn’t waste any time, yanking down her shorts and panties.  A downward glance showed his full head of jet black hair positioned at her core.

He didn’t move. Just stared at it.

What the hell is he doing?

She cleared her throat and tipped her hips back.

Hot palms gripped her thighs and soft kisses tickled her hip, her thighs, her stomach—everywhere but
there
. Goosebumps chased his kisses—those maddening little tattle-tales, like nipples, that gave away a girl’s best-kept secrets.

If the guy didn’t quit pissing around, though, he’d have a big bad bouncer standing over him.

A silky, wet tongue probed her, and Karinna nearly buckled.
Holy shit. Holy shit
.

Wrapping her legs over his shoulders, he took the full weight of her, giving her no choice but to straddle his face, tip her head back, close her eyes and enjoy the ride. The tickle at her thighs could only be the light stubble of his jaw, but hell if she’d open her eyes to find out.

He sucked and licked, and that tongue somehow curved up into her farther than any man’s had before him. How long did his tongue stretch for chrissakes? Hot breath warmed her sensitive flesh, and Karinna dug her heels into his back.

The urge to feel up her own tits had her hands sliding against the cold brick. She moaned and rocked her hips into him.

He was good.

Better than good.

He tongued her like a cunnilingian rockstar.

Unlike many of her backdoor conquests, an air of intimacy hung between them. The garbage and rats, possible voyeurs who’d gotten used to catching peepshows—all of it faded into that single moment. As if nothing else around them mattered. As if he didn’t wear the tattoo that had been plastered on the wall the night Lolita had hung herself. As if he were nothing more than a man pleasuring a woman, instead of a lecherous monster who could’ve very well inflicted the ghastly wounds on her sister’s body.

His thick hair tickled her palm as she searched for something to grasp hold.

No
.

Karinna’s stomach tightened. The cresting of an orgasm seized her concentration.
No, no, no.

The sensation fizzled at the same time the heat gave way to cold, as he released her hips and dislodged his tongue. Her legs had the same strength as a wet noodle when he placed her feet back on the ground.

What?

“What are you doing?” The almost pained tone of her voice roused nausea in her gut. Couldn’t possibly have been the mind-blowing orgasm she
didn’t
just have. “Keep going, I’m not …”

He stood, licking the glisten off his lips, and grinned. The masculine pride that damn near glowed on his face left her shrinking inside. He wiped the corner of his mouth and sucked what she could only assume was
her
from his fingers. Devious. Teasing. Knowing that she’d loved every bit of it.

“I play the same way I like to fuck. Dirty.” He stepped past her, back inside
Chix
, leaving her a disheveled, unfinished mess.

“Motherfucker,” she muttered, yanking up her panties and shorts, then stormed back through the door, straight toward the bar.

“So?”

As if Karinna had any intentions of getting caught up in girly gossip with Tammy TinkerTwat—a nickname the ditz proudly shared about herself—the downside of working with girls barely out of high school.

“He’s gay,” Karinna lied. Not even the most confused gay man could do what he just did. Every voyeur in eyeshot just got a lesson in how to eat pussy the right way. “Bummer, huh?” She knocked the bar. “Jinks, double whiskey.” No way she’d let her golden ticket get swept away by the club
mare-in-heat
. She had every intention of marching back to his table and offering the Lexi Bane special—free of charge, as long as he’d be willing to initiate her into the Sadismen.

“Yeah.” Tammy sighed. “I’d still fuck him, though.” Her head perked up. “Hey, where’d he go?”

Karinna swung around. His table stood empty.

“Son of a bitch,” she murmured. “Did you see him leave?”

Tammy shook her head.

Dammit.
Sneaking back through the crowd, Karinna made her way to the front door and, crossing her arms to shield against the cold, she scanned the lot. Wind kicked up her hair and she shivered.

Nothing.

Like the guy just up and disappeared.

Karinna returned to her tray of shooters, where Tammy stood beside the bar with her eyes wide and a smile plastered across her face.

“Holy shit, you should see the monster tip he left on the table. Three hundred bucks!”

Yeah. Great.

***

Karinna emerged from the bar, signaling the end of her shift, decked out in a hat and long, black coat that covered the toned thighs that’d straddled Xander’s face two hours earlier. He couldn’t help lick his lips at the sight of her as he watched from his rooftop perch, adjacent to
Chix
.