Page 11 of Sling’s Awakening

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Curse to the stage!” the DJ says into the microphone as the beginning of Terrible Lie by Nine Inch Nails starts.

Curse walks out to the beat of the drum before wrapping her hand around the pole and leaning her arm against it as she sways to the beat. Her pin-straight hair is past her ass, giving a peek of her ass every time it sways with her. Her hair is bleach-blonde except for the ends that are black, drawing your eyes to the contrast which also happens to be her ass.

She hops up in the air, spinning around on the pole as her legs open into the splits that have every single brother throwing money on stage at her as they catcall at her.

I feel the weight of someone staring at me again. My attention leaves Curse and moves to the bar where I lock eyes with Blake who, to anyone else, would think she’s just scanning the crowd. But I know that look. I was just on the receiving end of it. It’s her customer service version of glaring daggers at me.

I grin at her as I lift my glass in acknowledgement before downing the rest. The next song has started, and by the sounds around me, things are heating up on stage, but I’m only interested in one person heating up.

I cock my brow in Blake’s direction as I raise my empty glass at her and shake it, the ice clanging against the sides.

I can see Blake’s eyes narrow, her customer service glare out the window revealing the woman who was mad as hell in my yard. Her lips begin moving, drawing my attention to her full mouth. She has a shade of lipstick on I wouldn’t mind seeing all over my dick. Lucky for her, I’m fluent in reading bullshit.

Did she just tell me to kiss my ass?

I can’t keep the shit-eating grin off my face as I mouth back, “I’ll kiss your ass anytime you want, baby.”

This time Blake doesn’t hang around. I watch as she walks down to the end of the bar to greet two guys who have just sat down while she makes another drink. The grip I have on my empty glass tightens as she gives them another flirtatious smile I haven’t gotten.

The cocktail waitress sets another round down at our table, making me look away at what she set down in front of me.

Why is it fucking blue? And there’s a goddamn cherry in.

“Excuse me, babe.” I lightly touch the waitress’s hand as she sets Val’s drink down next to me. “I think you’ve made a mistake. I don’t know what this is, but it’s not what I’m drinking.”

The waitress looks at me with a knowing grin. “It’s a blue balls martini. Gin said it’s what you’re switching to since that’s all you’ll be getting tonight.”

Mountain sprays his drink across the table as his booming laugh damn near drowns out the music playing in the club. “Holy shit,” Mountain exclaims between coughs as he pounds on his chest. “Next time I’m over at your place, I’m walking my huge ass over there and introducing myself.”

“I’ll join you.” Bomber smirks.

Every brother joins in as they look between me and the bar, enjoying what just went down.

Oh, hell to the fucking no.

I can feel the smirk on Blake’s face boring a hole into me. Little Miss Firecracker isn’t going to get the satisfaction she’s looking for.

“No, you fucking aren’t,” I grumble as I pick the cherry off the top of the drink and chuck it at Mountain’s face. “Pay attention to the show.”

Mountain picks the cherry up and pops it in his mouth as he winks at me and turns back to the stage just as Curse is finishing her set. Instead of heading backstage, she uses the stairs on the side with her eyes set on our table.

She throws her long ass hair over her shoulder with the flip of her hand with a seductive smirk. “I hear we have a birthday boy over here.”

Scar pushes his chair away from the table with his feet as he looks at her with a matching smirk. “I’m the birthday boy.”

“How did I know it was you?” Curse purrs as she walks around the table, making sure to trail her finger across most of my brothers’ shoulders, mine included as she makes her way to Scar.

She doesn’t hesitate as she straddles his lap. Usually, even dancers hesitate for a moment before approaching him. The two thick scars he has running down the side of his face either scare women away or make them hesitant to be around him.

Sucks, that’s how it is for him.

Curse is grinding in his lap as she winds her arms around his neck while my brothers cheer her on and tuck bills into her thong.

Even with the hot piece of ass in front of me, I find myself looking toward the bar again, trying to get any glance of Blake in action.

She hated me on the spot.

Didn’t even fucking know me from Adam and still doesn’t.