I don’t wait for her to get wise and change her mind. Shoving a hand down the front of her jeans I brush my thumb over the crotch of her panties. A few kisses and she’s already wet. Freya moans into my mouth when the flash of headlights passes through the window and illuminates on the back wall.
“Someone’s here,” I mutter against her lips, hating to break away, wanting to kill whoever decided to interrupt. I steal one more kiss thankful the dark will hide whatever is left of my hard on as I tug Freya back to the bar.
“Anyone around?” Crow’s voice booms as a cold blast of air spills through the front door to the clubhouse.
“Hey, Dad.” Freya drops my hand, charging toward her father, her path lit by the glow of the fireplace.
“The fuck are you two doing here alone in the dark?”
“I was looking for you.”
“Power just went out. Was about to get the generator going,” I say, stumbling around searching for my jacket.
“I’m freezing,” some bitch says, straggling in behind Crow. I don’t recognize her voice. Probably some stray he picked up at a bar no doubt.
I’m almost to the door when the power surges and the lights flicker off and on before staying on. Thank fuck. Music blares from the radio behind the bar.
“Why aren’t you with your sister?” Crow starts in on Freya about skipping out on her Nan.
While they bicker, I light up a cigarette and pour myself another damn drink. Merry fucking Christmas to me.
Moments later Crow is dropping onto the stool next to me. “Where’s the party at? This shit is damn near depressing.” He clamps a hand to my shoulder giving me a shake.
I should feel like an asshole right about now. I was mere seconds from fucking his daughter when he showed up, but if anything, I’m only irritated I didn’t get my way.
I glance at the fireplace where Freya’s standing making chitchat with the whore her father dragged in. Fucking hell, I’m a bastard. All I want is to lay her down and taste every god damn inch of her. Fuck her till she walks sideways.
“Made other plans. Wasn’t shit going on here.”
“Freya, get over here and pour your old man a drink.”
“I thought you said we were going to party,” his whore grumbles.
“Later,” he calls over his shoulder and rolls his eyes. “Bitch is annoying. Doesn’t shut the fuck up.”
“Sounds like a you problem,” Freya sasses as she places a glass tumbler on the bar, pouring from a top shelf bottle.
“Don’t you start in on me.”
“It’s kind of my job to rag on you.” She flashes me a smile.
I grin back at her then take a hard drag off my cigarette.
“Where’s mine?”
“Margo, meet my oldest friend in the world. Death.”
She blanches. “Your name is Death?”
“Yup,” I mutter into my drink wondering what in the fuck Crow was thinking. Bitch is fugly. Has a hook nose and beady eyes. She’s got a nice rack, but it doesn’t make up for her nasally voice. Ever since Cate left his ass, he keeps downgrading. Shit is about damn near embarrassing. He told me once it doesn’t matter who he fucks because Cate is all he will ever see.
Damn shit must run in the family because since I got hooked on the idea of Freya she’s all I see too.
“What’s your poison?” Freya steps right into playing hostess, but hell she works as a bartender a town over at some tourist attraction bar. She’s the quintessential biker brat. Raised in and by the club.
“You know how to make a screwdriver?”
“Yup. A toddler could manage one.”