J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 5-8 - J. R. Ward [363]
Right before he came, he pulled out, spun her around, and forced her onto her knees. He roared as he orgasmed in her mouth, thinking that little shit Mr. D had been right: This was exactly what he’d needed. A sense of mastery, a reconnection with what had been normal for him.
And sex was still good.
As soon as he was finished, he zipped up, not caring whether she spit or swallowed.
“What about me?” she asked, wiping her mouth.
“What about you?”
“I’m sorry?”
Lash cocked an eyebrow as he checked his hair in the mirror. Hmm . . . maybe he should grow it out again. He’d done the whole military shear after his transition, but he’d liked his ponytail. He had good hair.
God, King’s dog collar looked hot on him—
“Hello?” the girl demanded.
Annoyed, he glanced at her in the glass. “You don’t honestly expect me to care whether you get off.”
For a moment, she seemed confused, like the movie she’d rented at Blockbuster had had a different DVD inside the sleeve. “Excuse me?”
“What didn’t you understand?”
Shock made her blink like a fish. “I don’t . . . get it.”
Yeah, evidently Debbie Does Dallas was showing on her screen, not Pretty Woman.
He looked around the bathroom. “You let me take you in here and push your skirt up and fuck you. And you’re surprised I don’t care? Exactly what did you think was going to happen?”
The last of the excited, I’m-a-good-girl-doing-a-bad-thing drained from her expression. “You don’t have to be rude.”
“Why is it bitches like you are always surprised?”
“Bitches?” Self-righteous anger distorted her face, taking her from pretty into gorgon territory—and yet making her somewhat more intriguing. “You don’t know me.”
“Yeah, I do. You’re a slut who lets a guy she’s never met before come in her mouth in a bathroom. Please. I’d have more respect for a prostitute. At least they get paid in something other than spunk.”
“You are such a bastard!”
“And you are boring me.” He reached for the knob.
She grabbed his arm. “Watch it, asshole. I can make things bad for you in a heartbeat. Do you know who my father is?”
“Someone who didn’t do his job of raising you properly? ”
Her free palm hit him square in the face. “Fuck you.”
Okay, the fighting definitely made her more interesting.
As his fangs punched out into his mouth, he was ready to bite through her throat like it was a Twizzler fresh out of the bag. Except someone pounded on the door and reminded him he was in public and she was human and cleanup was always a bitch.
“You’re gonna be sorry,” she spat at him.
“Oh, yeah?” He leaned in and was surprised when she held her ground. “You can’t touch me, girlie.”
“Watch me.”
“You don’t even know my name.”
Her smile was icy, adding years to her age. “I know plenty—”
The pounding on the door started up again.
Before she teed up for another slap and he couldn’t stop himself from retaliating, Lash ducked out of the bathroom, his parting salvo a quick, “Pull your skirt down, why don’t you.”
The guy who’d been knock-knock-knockin’ on the other side took one look at him and stepped way back. “Sorry, man.”
“No problem,” Lash said, rolling his eyes. “You probably saved that bitch’s life.”
The human laughed. “Stupid whores. Can’t live with ’em, can’t shoot ’em.” The bathroom next door opened and the guy turned away, flashing a righteous eagle embossed on the back of his leather jacket.
“Nice bird you got there,” Lash said.
“Thanks.”
Lash went over to the bar and nodded at Mr. D. “Time to go. I’m done.”
He took his wallet from his back pocket—and froze. The billfold wasn’t his. It was his father’s. He quickly slipped a fifty out, then buried the thing back where it had been.
He and Mr. D left the crowded, noisy club and when he stepped onto Trade Street’s sidewalk, he took a long, deep breath. Alive. He felt totally alive.
On the way over to the Focus, Lash said, “Give me your phone.