“Sorry, tits, we need to make sure you’re not trying to pack something inside that we don’t want.”
Nails started running his hands familiarly over her body.
“Like what? The only thing I have under my clothes is little ol’ me.”
Nails dug his hands under her tank, then under her bra, searching her breast before bringing his hands down to slide under her tight leggings.
“You wouldn’t be the first bitch who’s tried to use her cunt to get a bug inside the club.”
“Whoa, Nails!” T.A. grabbed Nails’ wrist, stopping him. “Let Dagger search down there.”
Nails’ fingers stopped. “Why him?”
“His nails aren’t dirty like yours. You could give a girl an infection with those nasty hands of yours.”
The hand that had been searching her snatch was jerked free of her pants, going to her throat as she felt herself pressed back against the car door.
“Bitch, what did you just say?”
“I said let Dagger do it. I have no problem with you doing a search-and-find later if I choose to fuck you tonight after you wash your hands.”
Nails’ furious features filled her vision as he loomed over her. “You’ll choose me. I’ll see to that.”
She shrugged. “Not with those hands. They look like you gave a hand job to a muffler.”
A bark of laughter from Dagger had Nails moving away.
“I’m a mechanic. Go ahead, Dagger.”
T.A. gave Dagger a salacious smile as the other biker stepped closer. Plastering her ass against the closed door of her car, she willingly spread her legs wider.
“A girl better be able to get a beer when I get inside.” Staring up at the starry night sky, she hid her grimace of distaste as a rough hand was shoved under her leggings.
“We’ve got anything inside you could want,” the biker grunted, nearly making her want to vomit at the rank odor coming from his body. So far, the Destructors might not match the Road Slayers in their colossal numbers, but at least she could get near them without wanting to barf.
She shot Dagger a dirty look when she felt a long finger slide inside her pussy.
“Damn, dude, you’re acting like you don’t know how to touch a coochy. Your first time?” she asked snidely.
The lights might be dim in the parking lot, but she could easily see the red tide of color fill his cheeks. The finger was snatched out, and T.A. found herself turned to face the other way with hands going through her hair, traveling behind her ears before going down her back and hips.
She blew another bubble when Dagger’s hands skimmed over her thighs and legs before being forcibly turned around again.
“You go inside with that smart mouth, Nails and I will be taking heat. The brothers expect the women to know how to keep a respectful mouth.”
“I can be respectful.” She blinked her impossibly long lashes at him.
“I hope so. We’re looking for a good time, not having to explain ourselves to Whip.”
“Who’s Whip?”
“He’s the president of the club.”
“What’s the name of your club?”
“Bitch, I know you’ve heard of the Road Slayers.”
“I’m not from around here. I’m just visiting.”
“Everybody’s heard of us, unless you’re from outer space,” Dagger bragged.
“I’m from Kentucky.”
The two bikers laughed in her face.
“Don’t that say it all.” Nails swung a heavy arm over her shoulder.
“Are you making fun of me or Kentucky?” T.A. lifted wide eyes up at him as they began walking toward the front of the club, where several large men were standing.
“Both.” He snickered. “She’s cool.”
T.A. shivered at the look they gave her. If the bikers inside looked as dangerous and vicious as the ones posted out front, she was in over her head. If she thought that she could make it to her car, she would have taken off. Dagger being right behind her, and Nails having her pinned to his side took that chance out of her hands.
The smell of booze and sex hit her as soon as she walked into the club. Blinking rapidly to adjust to the dim lighting, she took a quick glance around the club. It was the biggest motorcycle club she had been inside. It was four times the size of the Destructors’ club, and twice the size of the Last Riders’. Both clubs were a hell of a lot cleaner too. Most of the tables were filled with empty beer bottles, and at least forty or fifty bikers sat around drinking. Several bikers stood around the far end of the bar, talking to several who were seated at stools.
“Let’s go. We’ll introduce you to Whip.”
She wasn’t given the opportunity to balk as Nails guided her by the heavy arm around her. T.A. didn’t have to be told which man sitting at the bar was the president. The word “President” had been stitched on the black leather vest, rested on a pair of broad shoulders that turned as she and Nails approached.