Jax's Dilemma:Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 2) (6 page)

“I need to talk with that asshole. You not being able to dance is stupid as fuck!”

“And a hardship, because I made a ton of money in tips.”

“Yeah, I bet you did, darlin’; you’re a lot of the guys’ favorite. What about a lap dance? Would you do a lap dance for me?”

Cherri’s eyes lit up. “Sure, why not? I was told I couldn’t dance on stage. I’ll give you a good lap dance. I’ll treat you right.” She placed her hand over his, rubbing it.

“Hey, buddy, how’s it going?”

Spinning around, Cherri saw Jax pull out the chair next to her. He sat down and started talking with Gunner about motorcycles. Cherri stared at him, but Jax, acting as though she wasn’t at the table, continued to talk with Gunner, laughing too loud at things Gunner said that weren’t all that funny.
You want to play games with me, Jax? Go on—I’m a great player. I’ve had a lot of practice, especially with men. Bring it on, asshole.

With sparkling eyes, she leaned close to Gunner, her hand on his shoulder, and said, “I gotta get back to work. Come find me later.” She felt Jax’s glare on her. Ignoring him, she stood up from the table and walked away.

Standing against the bar, Cherri watched as Peaches took the stage. She turned toward Gunner’s table and saw Jax was still with him, talking his ear off. The whole time she had been at Dream House, she had never seen Jax speak with Gunner, yet the jerk acted like he was Gunner’s best friend. She hoped he wasn’t telling Gunner shit about her, trying to scare him off, although Gunner didn’t look like he intimidated easily.

Glancing back at the stage, she noticed Peaches looked at Jax, but he had his back to her as he spoke with Gunner. Cherri couldn’t help the surge of satisfaction rising in her. Whenever she danced, Jax couldn’t keep his eyes off her. A deep ache pulsed through her as she thought about her stripping and Jax’s lust-filled eyes watching her. When she danced, she’d catch his eye, and they would be connected through the music, the dance, and
their
desire. She yearned for that connection right then, but he took it away from her.

On the stage, a frowning Peaches stared at Jax’s back. Cherri was glad Jax couldn’t care less that Peaches was working extra hard to shake her ass and boobs—he just kept talking to Gunner.

Serves you right bitch.

A couple of hours later, while busy moving boxes of supplies to the storage area, Emma came over to Cherri. “Gunner’s waiting for his lap dance in the red room. How did that come about?”

“I got talking to him and he asked when I was gonna dance. I told him the deal, and he said he wanted a lap dance. He seems like a nice guy, by the way.”

“Really? I don’t know him too well. He hangs with the older bikers. He always seems gruff to me.” Emma shrugged.

“I think he’s probably a big teddy bear.”

“I don’t think I’d describe him like that, but whatever.”

“I gotta change. Tell him I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Cherri raced to her dressing room and pulled out different outfits from her closet. Finally settling on a skimpy leopard print skirt with a pink thong, along with a black lace and leopard print push-up top, she hurriedly dressed. The guys loved this outfit because it always made her boobs look bigger than they were. Stiletto black pumps completed the ensemble.

Throwing on a cover-up, she headed toward the red room where Gunner waited. She glanced into the bar area and saw Peaches and Jax practically doing it. It was late and most of the patrons had gone, leaving a few guys and several Insurgents inside the club. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she walked to the lap dance rooms.

Cherri closed the door behind her when she entered the red room. It was swathed in variations of old-west saloon reds: deep red velvet walls with mirrors, a plush Persian carpet on the dark wood floors, an over-sized wraparound maroon leather couch hugging the walls. Erotic art dotted the mirrors while the shimmering light from two floor lamps draped in rosy chiffon lent a sultry ambience to the space.

Gunner, reclining on the couch with his arms resting on the top of it, smiled, his eyes smoldered with heat. “Don’t you look delicious, darlin’. Come on over and make me feel good.”

Cherri held his blazing look and swayed her hips as she neared him. “Do you have a couple of favorite songs you’d like me to dance to?” She placed her hands on his jean-covered knees and bent over, her face close to his.

Swallowing hard, he nodded. “ ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’ by Def Leppard and ‘Cherry Pie’ by Warrant are good.”

“Nice choices.” Cherri walked over to an elaborately carved wood cabinet, opened the doors, and pressed some buttons. Wiggling her shoulders and tossing her hair back, she said, “The rules are no touching. I can touch you, but you can’t touch me. Got it?”

Gunner nodded while he sucked in his breath.

She came back over to him and waited for the music to start. On the first beat, Cherri moved her hip to one side, then another. She strutted around, ran her fingers through her hair then down her neck, her chest, then to her hips and around her butt. Tossing her hair, she looked at herself in the mirror behind the couch, then shifted her gaze to Gunner as she drew his eyes to hers. Gunner stared at her, transfixed; lust filled his black eyes as her head slowly fell forward then rolled back up, her hair draping around her like a shroud. Keeping her hands in contact with her body, she let them ride up her sides and back toward the nape of her neck.

Cherri came up to Gunner and placed her body between his legs as she swayed to the music, her ass bumping and grinding his crotch. Turning her head to look over her shoulder, her eyes never left his as she dry-humped him. Slowly leaning back, her shoulders pressed into his hard chest as she wrapped her arm around his neck—giving him a perfect view of her supple breasts—while she rubbed her ass on his hard shaft. She heard Gunner’s guttural moans.

Swinging around, she faced him, her eyes locked with his once again. A sweet, subtle grin whispered across her face as she straddled his lap. As she bent forward, her orange blossom-sugared scent caressed Gunner’s nostrils, and Cherri pushed her breasts toward his face. Arching her back, she unhooked her bikini top, releasing her boobs while she moved her butt against Gunner’s massive hard-on. His breathing was fast and shallow as he shifted under Cherri’s gyrations.

“You’re fuckin’ killin’ me, darlin’,” he said huskily.

Still holding his gaze, Cherri licked her lips as she nestled Gunner’s face into her breasts, squeezing them around his face with her hand while grinding on his hardness. Not able to control himself any longer, Gunner’s arms circled her petite waist and crushed her glistening body against him. The song ended, but Gunner didn’t release her.

“The songs are over. I’m finished,” she said into his ear while gently pulling away.

“That was a fuckin’ hot dance. Way better than you on stage.” He reached in his pocket and took out his wallet. “Here you go, darlin’.” He handed her three one hundred dollar bills.

With wide eyes, Cherri said, “The dance is thirty dollars. This is way too much.”

“That’s your tip, darlin’. You deserve every bit of it and more. There’s somethin’ ’bout you makes me wanna take care of you. Can I give you another hug?”

As his warm smile caressed her, Cherri’s eyes misted and she nodded. He squeezed her in his large arms, making her feel appreciated and protected. From behind her, she heard the door open and slam against the wall. Peeking over her shoulder, Jax emerged from the doorway—red-faced, eyes blazing, and fists clenched.

“What the fuck is going on here?” he demanded.

“H
ow in the
fuck is this your business?” Gunner growled back, his arms still clasped around Cherri.

Seeing her practically nude in Gunner’s arms made Jax’s hazel eyes darken like angry thunderclouds. He wanted to pound the old man to a bloody pulp. He picked up one of the iron chairs and chucked it across the room, its impact shattering the mirror on the side wall. Gunner sprung off the couch and grabbed Jax. “What the fuck is your goddamned problem?”

“Don’t you fuckin’ touch her. Stay away from her.”

Gunner threw a confused look at Cherri. “You his property? He claim you?”

Looking down, face turned away, she shook her head.

Directing his attention back to Jax, he said, “Seems like you got no say in this, so get the fuck outta here.” He shoved Jax backward.

“Don’t mess with me, old man.” Jax’s muscles twitched and bulged from the tension.

“I don’t wanna mess with you. If you get the fuck out now, everything is cool.”

Jax glanced at Cherri. Biting her nail, she avoided him.

“She’s not supposed to be dancing.” Jax stared hard at Gunner.

“She’s not on stage, and what two adults have goin’ on in here is none of your fuckin’ business. For the last time, take your fuckin’ ass outta here.” Gunner took a couple of steps toward Jax.

Jax lunged for Gunner, whose fist smashed against Jax’s jaw. Stumbling for a moment, he pitched forward and punched back. The two of them hammered and knocked each other senseless. Cherri screamed, “Stop, now! Stop!”

Ignoring Emma as she burst into the room, the two men kept bashing each other even as the blood spurted from their faces. Rushing into the hallway, Emma cried for help.

Banger, Chas, and Ruben raced in with Holt on their heels. They pulled the guys apart.

“What the fuck’s goin’ on?” Banger roared.

Wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, Gunner replied, “This fuckin’ punk is abusing his position as Sergeant-at-Arms. He’s got a thing for Cherri, but she ain’t been claimed. He needs to back the fuck off right now, or I’ll do somethin’ that’s gonna land me in the pen.” Gunner’s body shook with fury, his nostrils flaring.

“What the fuck, Jax?” Banger’s eyes bored straight into his, waiting for a response.

Jax, rubbing his swelling jaw, said, “The fuckin’ old man needs to learn she’s off-limits to the brothers.” He wrapped his arms around Cherri’s trembling shoulders.

“Have you claimed her?”

Jax flung a defiant glare at Banger and tugged Cherri closer to him.

“Well, have you?” Banger swung around and faced Cherri. “Are you Jax’s woman?”

Shifting from one foot to the other, eyes cast downward, Cherri’s white-blonde head shook as she said in a half-whisper, “No.”

With fury in his eyes, Banger yelled at Jax, “Get the hell outta here! You’ve no stake in her. She and Gunner can do what the fuck they want. You’re outta fuckin’ line on this one.”

Without saying a word, Jax tossed Cherri away from him. She stumbled and fell, landing on the couch. He stormed out of the room into the bar area. “That fuckin’ old man better watch out, ’cause I’m not done with him yet. Asshole!” he yelled. He slammed his fist on the bar, pain ripping through his hand. Feeling a cool rag on his face, he whipped around and saw Peaches standing next to him, wiping away the drying blood.

“What happened, baby?” she cooed. “I’m here now, and I’m gonna take care of my best guy. I love you, baby. I love everything about you. I’d never pick some old fart over you. You’re so sexy and lovable.” Peaches put her arms around Jax’s neck and planted a wet, soft kiss on his bruised cheek.

Jax turned toward her and kissed her.

“Don’t ever try that shit again with another brother, you got that?” Banger yelled as he approached Jax. “Gunner is cool to let this go, but if you do this shit again, your ass is gonna get a beating from me. All this shit over a bitch. You had your chance and you didn’t go for it, and now Gunner’s got her.”

“He doesn’t have shit. A lap dance doesn’t mean he’s
got
her.” Jax spat.

Eyeing him, Banger warned, “Back the fuck off. The bitch has picked Gunner, so be a man and deal with it. I don’t want any more trouble from you on this. Got it?”

“I’m fuckin’ outta here!” Jax yanked Peaches’ arm, dragging her behind him as he left the bar. He jumped on his Harley and motioned Peaches to get on. He needed a back warmer, and later, he’d want a cock warmer. Peaches was eager, and he liked her well enough. If Cherri wanted to suck old cock, then let her do it. He was beyond pissed at her. He needed a pint of Jack and Peaches’ pussy to erase that cold bitch with the glacier blue eyes out of his mind. He left the parking lot and sped toward the clubhouse.

The wind rushed around their ears like a wind chamber. Evergreens, aspens, and pine trees blurred as Jax rode hard and fast, taking the curves at dangerous speeds. With every bend in the road he leaned the bike further, and he felt Peaches wrap her arms tighter around him. He knew she was terrified, but he didn’t care. The inky blackness, the wind around him, and the ride blocked out the fury which radiated from him.
How the fuck could she pick Gunner over me? I know she’s got issues, but this is just fucked.

Images of Cherri invaded his mind the whole ride to the clubhouse. He had never been so pissed at a woman in his whole life. He fucked women, stayed with them for a while, then left them for another. Usually, he was getting pussy from two or sometimes three women at the same time. Rarely did he settle for one, and when he did, it was short-lived. The last thing he wanted was to settle down or have a permanent girlfriend—he wasn’t ready for that shit, so he couldn’t figure out why he cared so much about Cherri. He hated pain-in-the-ass women, and when it got too hard or complicated, he’d bail. So why was he still sniffing around the frigid bitch’s ass? She was more than difficult, and he still wanted to get her in his life and him in hers.
Fuck!

Jax screeched to a stop and waited for the prospect to open the chain-link fence to let him into the clubhouse parking lot. Lights from inside the compound cast an eerie glow on the asphalt where numerous Harleys were parked. Laughter, heavy bass, and breaking glass emanated from the club. It was Thursday night, and the brothers began their weekend early.

Inside the great room, several brothers sat drinking beer and whiskey while watching car racing on the big-screen TV mounted on the back wall. A few brothers played pool while some others were busy with the club whores and mamas on the couches that circled the room. There weren’t any hoodrats since the party girls usually came around the club on Friday and Saturday nights to have free booze, drugs, and sex.