Ruin Me, Biker Alphas

Two Powerful Men

~Valerie~

The club is quiet in a heavy way. It’s barely noon, and the air is thick with the scent of floor wax, and the faint, lingering ghost of last night’s whiskey. The neon signs are humming, but the music hasn't started yet. It’s just us, the staff moving like shadows through the dim light of the main floor.

I’m on my hands and knees, scrubbing the base of the bar stools, but my mind isn't on the dirt. It’s on those two powerful men.

I shift my weight, and the fabric of my shorts rides up even higher. I went all in today. I wanted to look like the kind of trouble that keeps a man awake at night, sweating through his sheets. I’m wearing a white ribbed crop top that’s at least two sizes too small. The hem barely covers the underside of my breasts, leaving the heavy, rounded swell of them nearly spilling out every time I breathe. It’s thin, practically transparent under the harsh cleaning lights, and I didn’t bother with a bra. My n*****s are hard, pressing visible points against the fabric, aching from the cold air and the scraping of my own movements.

Below that, my waist is completely bare. Every time I twist to reach a spot on the floor, the muscles of my stomach ripple, my skin glowing pale gold in the shadows. I’m wearing another denim bum shorts but this is more like a belt than clothing. The edges are worn, crazy style, it dig into the tops of my thighs, and the back is so short that the lower curve of my ass is peeking out for the world to see. I traded the heels for heavy, black combat boots today. They make me feel grounded. They make me feel like I’m ready for a fight or a f**k, and right now, I’m not sure which one I want more.

I’ve pulled my brown curls up into a messy, high donut on top of my head, letting a few wild strands frame my face. I swiped a layer of thick, sticky pink gloss over my lips, making them look bee-stung and wet. I want to see Ronan’s face when he sees me like this. I want to see if he can still call me a little girl when I’m standing in front of him looking like a goddamn invitation.

I stretch across a low table to wipe down the center, and I can feel the heat of a gaze on me. I don’t even have to look up to know it’s Mighty. The bartender is leaning against the back counter, pretending to be polishing a glass, but his eyes are glued to the gap between my top and my shorts. He’s sneaking looks at the weight of my breasts as they hang heavy over the table.

Even the guards at the door are ogling me. They aren't even trying to hide it. One of them, a massive guy with a scarred throat, lets out a low whistle.

"Jesus, Valerie," he mutters, his voice loud in the quiet room. "You’re trying to start a riot before the doors even open? You look f*****g hot, kid."

I don’t answer. I just give him a slow, bored blink and keep scrubbing.

Suddenly, a sharp smack stings my left butt cheek. I jump, nearly knocking over my bucket, and spin around to see Candy standing there with a wicked grin. The stripper is already in her platform heels, her hair a waterfall of bleached blonde.

"God, I wish you’d just give up the waitress act and come dance tonight," Candy gushes, her eyes roaming over my body with naked appreciation. "You’re way too hot to be wasting those curves serving drinks to these cavemen. You’d make a killing on the main stage, Val."

I let out a short laugh, tossing my rag into the soapy water. "I don’t think I have the balance for those poles, Candy. I’d probably end up breaking my neck."

"Please," Candy scoffs, leaning closer. She lowers her voice, her eyes darting toward the stairs. "Is that why you’re dressed like a heart attack? Are you secretly taking customers upstairs while you’re supposed to be serving? Because if you are, I want in on the secret. You look like you’re ready to be claimed."

I feel the heat rise in my cheeks, a deep, tell-tale blush spreading down my neck. "No. I’m just... working."

"Right," Candy says, her smirk growing. "And I’m a nun."

"Candy, leave the poor girl alone!" Rikky yells from across the room, brandishing a broom like a weapon. "She’s got enough to deal with without you trying to recruit her for the glitter-and-grind show. Get back to work!"

Candy laughs and shuffles off, leaving me to my thoughts. But the peace doesn't last long.