Page 17 of Serpentine
The Dirty Pour is somewhere we know we shouldn’t step foot, but now and again, we love a good fucking time. More often than not, that means riling up a fight.
“You think this is a good idea, Pres?” Blaze asks.
Knowing it's not, I look up at the sign above and nod my head anyway.
“They shouldn’t have been in Cobra territory, and you know it. We can’t let it go unanswered.”
Blaze sighs. He knows I’m right; he isn’t ready for the full brunt of them breathing down our necks as full-on war brews between factions.
“Let’s go have some fun, boys!” I shout, moving into the bar first, letting them follow.
Last week, Vito Murphy—leader of the Jackals—decided he’d come into Zeke’s and raise some hell. The place got trashed in a fight they started, and I had to foot the bill. Undoubtedly, he was there to rile us up. For what reason? Fuck if I know.
But Cobras are known for repaying favors. There are a few spots the Jackals love to hang, but The Dirty Pour is dear to their heart. Because Vito’s late father owned it, it’s a family legacy.
As soon as my eyes lock on the lithe body of the blonde bartender with brown eyes and tits to kill, I know it’s going to become a favorite of mine, too.
I already had my murder tonight; I need a little mayhem.
“What’ll it be?” she asks as she slaps a napkin down.
I expected she’d give us shit. I thought we’d raise a little hell here and then have to find elsewhere to get our drinks. So did the boys.
“You’re going to serve me?” I ask, my brow lifting.
She looks around. I can feel the eyes of the rest of the bar slithering over the massive Cobra on the back of my leather jacket, but I don’t move a fucking muscle.
She shrugs. “I need to make my money somehow. Your party looks like you’re good for it. Are you?”
I lick my lips, and hers lift in a little defiant smirk. “Yup, we’re good for it. We’re good for more than that, too.”
She giggles and rolls her eyes playfully before grabbing Blaze’s beer orders for us all and shucking the tops off.
“Maybe I’ll just have to see what a Cobra is good for, hm?” she teases, winking at me as Blaze elbows my side.
I join his rueful laugh as she turns and sashays off, taking and filling orders. While she’s no candle to the pouty-lipped beauty back at the clubhouse, she’ll do in a pinch.
I am definitely in a fucking pinch.
“God, the way you grip my fucking cock, love,” I growl, shoving into her pussy with all I’ve got. My boots are sliding across the bathroom’s filthy floor, and it’s a fight to stay inside her.
“Harder! Fuck, harder!” she begs, and I grab hold of her and lift her, dropping her onto the sink, praying the weight doesn’t make the thing crumble.
My cock slides in and out of her as hard as I can fuck her, skin slapping skin. Toilets flush as people come and go outside the stall; giggles and scoffs greet us as the door opens and shuts.
She grabs the back of my head, heading right for my mouth. Just like they always do. I turn my face, and her lips get to my cheek. She plays it off, moving to my ear and nibbling.
When I turn back, there’s a sparkle of embarrassment in her eyes, but I grab each side of the sink for leverage and roll into her, giving her friction that wipes the look right off her face.
“I don’t kiss,” I grunt out.
She nods, hands bracing on my biceps, grabbing onto the leather of my jacket for dear life as she arches. Her head hits the mirror, damn near cracking it.
I lean down, breathing in the perfume scent on her neck before latching on.
She moans, pussy convulsing around me as I feel my own ends coming for me.
“Cobras don’t kiss; they fucking bite,” I groan, pulling my dick out of her and jacking it into the sink, cum erupting in thick ropes into the basin under her pussy hovering over the open space.