Ridden Hard: Taken by the Heaven's Assassins MC by Gale London Page B

middle-aged man flirting with a cluster of young women. He seems to be attempting to impress them with his dart playing skills. It’s almost endearing that someone would be so willingly clichéd as to wear sunglasses, indoors, at night!
     
    “Mmm, well... why don’t you invite him along?”
     
    The man seems taken aback. “Sorry... what?”
     
    “Too shy to share me with your buddy there, cowboy?”
     
    “No, I uh, it’s just that he’s actually more of a—”
     
    “Go get him,” I command firmly. Best to have a backup plan just in case this guy can’t get the job done. Besides – who doesn’t like having an audience?
     
    As my future hookup makes his way across the floor towards the dartboards, I smile and sip daintily at my martini, not wanting to consume it too quickly. I don’t even know this guy’s name, and I don’t particularly care to. These things usually work out better that way!
     

Chapter Two
     
    B efore long, the three of us are inside the otherwise empty men’s washroom. As with the rest of the bar, it captures “shabby” with particular gusto, but completely misses out on “chic”: unreasonably dim lighting, cracked mirror, chipped and stained plastic countertop, taps that won’t quite shut off, and a battered metal toilet stall inscribed with the telephone numbers of countless “good times”.
     
    The first man closes and locks the restroom door, sealing out the loud thumping of rock music, while his friend opts to remove his sunglasses and paces nervously back and forth in front of the lone urinal, eyes fixed downwards on his black leather boots.
     
    Finally, the second man throws up his arms. “Like, what the fuck, dude!” he exclaims irritably. “What’s so fuckin’ important you had to take me away from those wet college cunts? I was about to score with a pair of teenage dykes!” He gives me a wary glance. I suppose he figures I might not appreciate hearing such crude comments, but I’ve heard far worse.
     
    I take another slow sip of my martini, appreciating its soothing burn. Alas, it’s nearly finished. “Oh, please – be serious!” I retort. “Aren’t you old enough to know you ain’t gonna get anywhere with those girls? Especially if they say they’re lesbians. They’ll keep stringing you along ’til last call for all the free drinks, then leave you with the number of the pizza joint across the street.”
     
    The second man clenches his jaw and grunts unhappily, but doesn’t argue. “Whatever... but what the fuck am I doing here, then, besides being insulted by a bitch in blue?”
     
    With a sexy smirk, I hook my fingers under the bottom hem of my tight blue dress and tug it upwards, shimmying the fabric past my ass to expose the lacey white front of my panties... and the flawless smooth skin of my well-toned abdomen.
     
    This action has a marked effect on both men.
     
    “Mmm, well,” I purr, “your friend here’s decided he’s gonna share his conquest tonight. Right, cowboy?”
     
    The first man swallows hard as I shift my hips seductively. “Uh, yeah, that’s right... share...” He sounds hesitant, but I can see in his eyes that he’s going to do whatever I ask of him.
     
    The second man snorts and gives the first a dismissive wave. “Is this some kinda fucking joke? I’ve known you what, fifteen years? And I’ve never even once seen you in your fucking skivvies. Now, you’re telling me you’re gonna hook up with some random slut – no offense – right in here?”
     
    I smile. And offense taken, asshole! “Uh huh. That’s the gist of it.”
     
    “Well, lady... knowing this guy that’s hard to believe. He’s never... uh, gone for that before.”
     
    “Then I guess I’ll just have to prove we’re serious.”
     
    Setting my now empty martini glass on the plastic countertop, I turn and approach the brown-haired man. Tilting my head to the side, I lean in and promptly smother his lips with my own. This bold move