"Fuck that noise," Dash blurted. His jeans hit the floor, and in the next second, her bedsprings creaked under the weight of him.
Her body was no longer under her control but was being lifted by his strong arms. She was off the bed and in his lap, straddling a naked Dash.
She smiled. "Gotcha to speed things up. Why do you gotta torture yourself?"
Dash answered her with a teasing kiss as he nipped her bottom lip, then her top. "It makes the ending that much better."
Harper smiled. "I like happy endings."
She shivered in excitement as his hands traveled up her sides, over her back, and back down to her ass, nudging her closer. "I like this position," he said. "We can see eye to eye, and I don't have to bend down to kiss you."
Running her tongue across his lips, she clarified, "You like me being on top."
His laugh vibrated through her breasts, and she rolled her pelvis against his hard-on.
"I don't hate it," he admitted.
He slipped his cock into her and let Harper take in the full length of him little by little until she was fully seated.
The closeness of this position caught her completely off guard. Between deep, sensual kisses, they watched each other as they ground against each other.
"This way feels so different," she said, acknowledging Dash's intense stare as she began a rhythmic slide up and down on his dick.
"Fuck, that's so good."
She kissed her way down his throat and sucked at the spot where his tendons stuck out as he strained underneath her. When she nibbled, she felt his dick grow inside her. Then, she remembered something.
"Do you want to show me how to do that thing?" She ran her fingers tenderly over his throat.
"Holy shit. Yes. If you remember what I showed you before?"
She nodded.
"Do that when I'm about to come."
Surprising both of them, she found his body's response to that move so erotic, she came just by watching him.
As for Dash, he looked as if he'd just won the lottery.
Chapter Thirteen
Dash
Not Billy, not the usual miscreants, and not the Satan's Minions Motorcycle Club could get on Dash's nerves tonight.
Harper's scent filled his nostrils as he moved around Crow Bar, watching over the regular customers, keeping a close eye on the newbies, and keeping track of the usual troublemakers' activities. And there were always troublemakers.
The feminine, gingery scent combined with the memory of the last 24 hours made his dick hard all over again, even as Dash did his job. But he didn't mind. He didn't even feel frustrated. All he felt was happy.
"What the fuck happened to you?"
Dash looked over to see Billy smirking at him from across the bar. The place was noisy as it always was on a Saturday night. But the mandated headsets, which had irked Dash just the day before, were not bothering him at all tonight.
Remarkable what an attitude shift could occur in 24 hours. The bouncers might now look like a misplaced boutique hotel work crew, but they were taking full advantage of the opportunity to share dirty jokes from across the noisy and crowded bar.
That night, Billy handled the door; Dash eyed the pool tables. The bikers were back and hogging the billiard room as usual. They'd been there over an hour; Dash was going to give them ten more minutes, and then it was time to go. "I had a good day; why do you ask?"
"Cause you look like Goofy with a surfer's hair, that's why."
"You paint quite a picture, Billy."
"Why don't you just tell me why you look like an eight-foot-tall cartoon with a dumbass smile on your face?"
One of the Satan's Minions had waylayed the barmaid, Honey. And Dash was trying to read lips and listen to Billy at the same time.
"Maybe it's my birthday today. Maybe I'm just happy. Can a guy be happy without the third degree from Billy Sullivan?"
Bruise, the notorious leader of the motorcycle gang, held court at the pool tables again while a group of customers waited patiently for their turn. Meanwhile, Honey was trying to get away from the second in command so she could fill their drink orders. On the one hand, he wished Declan would ban those guys permanently. On the other hand, they spent more money on beer in one night than all the rest of the customers brought in an entire week.
Billy cackled in Dash's ear. "You got laid. Hey guys, check it out. Mister Sourpuss got himself some pussy."
"Fuck off, Billy," Dash muttered into the mic of his headset.
"Sounds like you're the one getting fucked off."
He shook his head. Bruise was getting into a discussion with one of the new customers waiting to use one of the pool tables. "Jealous?" Dash asked.
"So it's true!" exclaimed Ricky. "Who is it?"
"Yeah, who?" Holden asked.
Dash was not about to have a conversation with his friends about Harper over a goddamn headset.
At that point, Declan's voice could be heard on the channel, reminding everyone to pay attention to their jobs and less attention to gossip.
"Thank you, Declan," Dash said.
"Ass kisser," Billy said.
"Asshole," said Dash.
The shit-giving made no difference to Dash, who lifted the collar of his tee-shirt to his nose and took a deep whiff. He didn't care if that looked bonkers to anyone watching.
Declan interrupting their gossip circle turned out to be a good thing in the end because, in the next moment, everything devolved into chaos.
The customer waiting for the pool table had walked up and tapped Bruise on the shoulder. The guy did not know any better than to steer clear; nobody touches Bruise. The guy was temperamental as fuck and likely coked-up beyond belief at the moment.
Dash and Holden were on it, but on it too late before Bruise had the guy's arm twisted behind his back and his head pinned to the brick wall.
It took both bouncers to pry Bruise's forearm off the poor slob's neck. When they pried
