Wirth (Dirty Aces MC Book 5) by Lane Hart (carter reed TXT) 📕

wallet while I wait, still looking around for Maeve, who I can’t seem to find. Where the fuck is she? Off screwing one of the newest Dirty Aces already?

“What can I get you?” the bartender, an older man with greying hair and a beer gut, finally asks when he makes his way to my end of the bar.

“Let me get a bottle of Crown Royal,” I tell him, slapping down two twenty-dollar bills.

“A shot of Crown Royal?” he repeats over the noise of chatter and rock music.

“A whole fucking bottle,” I tell him since it’s going to be a long night. By the looks of things, the original Aces will be too shitfaced or horny to leave here for home tonight, so I’m guessing we’ll be here until the sun comes up. Speaking of horny, I still haven’t seen Fiasco’s crazy ass…

Finally, the bartender brings me what I want. He eyes the front patches on my cut and then pushes the cash back toward me. “Drinks are on the house tonight for the original Aces.”

“Thanks,” I tell him, twisting off the top and saluting him with the bottle before I take my first burning sip. As the gold liquid slides down my throat, it leaves a path of fire in its wake that makes me curse. I’ve barely recovered when a hand lands on my shoulder. Turning toward the body, I find a golden-haired man with glassy eyes standing too close to me, already two sheets to the wind.

“Wirth! Good to see you, buddy. Hate you missed seeing us get our cuts,” Hunt, the club’s new president, says. “At least you made it in time to celebrate.”

“Yeah, man. Congrats and all that,” I tell him, clanking my bottle to his glass.

“It’s been a long time coming. Glad we finally made it happen,” he says with a smile, still riding the high of him getting voted in as president after Bobby died. He wasn’t a man many will miss. “Make yourself at home and let me know if there’s anything I can get you. You and Fiasco get first dibs on our girls tonight. The rest of your guys passed, saying they brought their own.”

“Thanks,” I reply before freezing when a sudden thought hits me. “Where the hell is Fiasco?”

“Last I saw him, your boy was getting his dick sucked by Wanda in the alley while feeling up Crystal.”

“Oh, well, good for him,” I say with a relieved sigh. At least he’s not off somewhere banging Maeve. At least not yet.

“Don’t worry. There’s still plenty of pussy to go around,” Hunt tells me with another slap to my shoulder. “All of our old girls made the trip with us, and we’ve picked up a few new ones in town too.”

“Is Maeve one of your new girls?” I blurt out the question, unable to resist. For some reason, I need to know more about her.

“So, you’ve already met Maeve?” Hunt asks with a grin. “She’s something, isn’t she? That little nympho is down for anything you fucking want. You name it, she loves it.”

My teeth grind together as he talks about her so familiarly when I’ve not even been able to lay a finger on her. Hell, I want to, but she made it pretty damn clear that the feeling wasn’t mutual. “Unlike you, I don’t like to share my women or watch her with other assholes,” I admit.

Hunt chuckles and shakes his head. “I hear you loud and clear, buddy. It would be a shame to lose her, but say the word, and she’s all yours for as long as you want her.”

What kind of asshole talks about women like this, as if she belongs to him and he has some kind of right to pimp her out? I find it hard to believe that the stubborn woman I met earlier tonight would put up with such a thing from anyone. So why in the world does she let these fuckers treat her this way? It doesn’t make sense. Something doesn’t add up with her.

“Speak of the seductress,” Hunt says, and I follow his line of sight to the far end of the bar where Maeve is talking to one of the other women, her purse hiked up on her shoulder. Her lips are painted bright red now and her hair is pulled up off her neck, making her somehow look sexier. I try to read those lips of hers to figure out what she’s saying – something about needing to go to the store to get more condoms. Yeah, she definitely said condoms, but then I miss the rest of the conversation because I’m thinking about those red lips trying to stretch their way around my cock.

The women are interrupted by a growl when a burly, tattooed man with a long beard comes up behind Maeve and mauls her. His teeth bite into the right side of her neck like some kind of animal while his greedy hands blatantly and possessively cup her tits from behind before sliding lower. When she jerks her head away to the left, it’s impossible for me to miss the wince on her face before she breaks his hold to turn to him, offering the man what I have no doubt is a fake as fuck smile. She says something to him, pointing her finger toward the door, but all I hear is his gruff response, “Upstairs, now!” He spins her in the direction toward the stairs and slaps her ass to get her moving. That’s when my feet start heading in the exact same direction without a single command from my head to do so.

“Wait a fucking second,” I say when I grab the dick’s meaty arm. Maeve’s got one foot on the first step of the wooden staircase when she pauses to look over her shoulder. Her eyes widen when she sees me.

“Who the fuck are you?” the giant of a man asks, drawing my attention back to him. I may be a