Thunder (Hell's Handlers MC #10) - Lilly Atlas Page 0,24
guest of honor.
Thunder.
Three women surrounded him, all touching him and gyrating their bodies against his with moves that could have been choreographed. Thunder had his hands in the air, eyes closed as he swayed his body to the music. Mak didn’t have a great view of him since his dance partners blocked most of his body, but he seemed to be a great dancer.
Monty laughed. “Now that one’ll give you an education. Never met a man who could work the ladies quite like Thunder.”
As though he sensed he’d become the topic of conversation, Thunder’s eyes popped open, and his gaze locked with hers.
Her stomach flipped, different than before, and a strange flutter spread through her chest. She’d meant to ask Kristy about the kiss she’d witnessed at the coffee shop. About whether she was dating Thunder or not. From the handsy scene in front of her, she’d guess not.
“Is one of them his ol’ lady?” she asked Monty, still maintaining eye contact with a dancing Thunder.
The prospect let out a booming laugh. “Thunder? Dating? Shit, babe, you’re funny. Thunder doesn’t date. He’s a stripper and having too much fun banging any and every woman he can get his hands on. Which is pretty much all of them.”
A stripper. That explained how he knew Kristy, but not why she’d kissed him as she had.
Thunder winked, and the gesture hit her straight between the legs with an unfamiliar tingling sensation.
Well, shit, maybe she wasn’t broken after all, just pretty freaking bent.
CHAPTER FIVE
THUNDER’S ARM THROBBED with such intense, fiery agony, even the half bottle of moonshine he’d guzzled hadn’t killed the torturous sensation. When he’d first learned of the Hell’s Handlers tradition of branding their logo on the forearm of new patches, it had seemed like such a macho way to enter the brotherhood. Sear the symbol into his skin and be one with them forever. Endure the same pain all his brothers had before him. A bond in blood only a few understood.
Hell, he’d been fucking excited about it. Eager for the pain, even.
Until the moment Copper pulled the branding iron out of the bonfire, and the glowing tip careened toward his sensitive skin. Then all he’d wanted to do was puke and run screaming in the other direction. Somehow, he’d managed not to bawl like a little bitch when the red-hot metal turned his skin into barbecue. He’d also managed to stay on his feet, keep the contents of his stomach inside, and not scream. All requirements of the final test to be admitted into the club.
Now he got why Copper had him drink all that nasty shit right before branding him. And again after. The only thing keeping him from focusing on the ongoing discomfort was the fact his brain was sloshing around in the booze and unable to function.
So now, his arm screamed, and his head swam, but his body moved to the music like it was born to it. When you spent as many hours dancing as he had, no thought was required to get your groove on.
A few of the Honeys danced around him, or all up on him, really. He had no idea what the hell their names were. Hell, he couldn’t even pick their faces out of a lineup. Didn’t matter. All he wanted was to drink, dance, and enjoy his fucking night. For the first time in months, thoughts of Viper and questions over whether he’d failed a man he loved didn’t dominate his consciousness.
Booze did.
He’d patched in.
God, it felt so damn amazing to finally belong to the club. To finally have a family he could be proud of. A family he could love. After what he’d grown up with…
Well, shit, thoughts like that were bound to kill his buzz in no time.
He could save that for a rainy day when he was in the mood to be depressed.
“You move like a dream,” one of the girls whispered into his ear.
With his hands above his head and his eyes closed, he didn’t know which one she was. Nor did he care. He rode the drunken wave, enjoying the feel of his body pumping to the music the way he always did. “Thanks, babe,” he said on autopilot.
“I can only imagine how you work these hips in bed.”
“Like a fucking pro, babe. Like a fucking pro.”
She purred and ground her body against his; at least he assumed she was the grinder. Could have been one of the others, for all he knew.