Fighter: A Bad Boy Romance Read Online Free Page A

look on his face, Moore seems to be loving it.
    I raise my eyebrows and nod, trying not to let him see how bored I am. Natalia spins around and drops into a squatting position and presses my knees apart. She’s completely doggy style on the floor in front of me, and my mind should be on what her ass looks like when I’m slamming her from behind, but it’s not. I’m wondering where that other girl went and what she’s up to.
    “Hey, uh, what do I owe you?” I ask her, reaching for my wallet.
    “Is twenty dollars,” she says, looking a bit surprised. I pull out forty and hand it to her. She takes it quickly.
    “Thanks, uh … Natalia? I gotta hit the bathroom.”
    I stand up quickly, accidentally knocking her back onto her ass.
    “Uh, sorry,” I say, brushing past Barry on my way out the door.
    “Hey, where you going, man?” He shouts after me.
    “I’ll be right back!”
    The guys must think I’m nuts, but I don’t care. I have to know what she’s doing.
    The main room of the club is still packed. I can’t even imagine what the owner’s going to be pulling in tonight, let alone the girls. This place is like a money making machine. What the hell am I doing running a struggling tattoo parlor?
    I don’t even know where to start. Last time I saw her she was carrying a champagne bottle that looked like it could serve about twenty people, or two very hardcore alcoholics. Maybe the bartender knows.
    I don’t have a hard time getting through the crowd. Most guys just instinctively move out of my way when they see me coming. It’s one of the advantages to being a vet and a fighter; people just see the way you carry yourself and know you’re not to be fucked with. That is, unless they’re a drunk asshole, and then you sometimes have a situation on your hands.
    The bar isn’t too crowded, and I step up to the bartender, shouting over the noise.
    “Hey, pal. That girl from earlier? Do you know her?”
    “Which one, man?” he asks back. “’Bout a thousand girls in here.”
    “She was carrying a champagne bottle. Thong. Nice ass. T-shirt?”
    “Oh, right,” he says with a smile. “That’s Rose.”
    These girls with their names .
    “Rose, huh? You know where she went?”
    “I think she’s working champagne tonight,” he says.
    “Champagne? Like delivering champagne?”
    “The champagne room,” he says, looking at me funny. “Haven’t you ever heard of the champagne room?”
    I shrug, “This is my first time. Just point me in the right direction.”
    “No can do, champ. Champagne room’s rented out by the hour. You’re gonna have to wait until she’s done, or hope she comes down for a refill.”
    I slam my fist down on the bar in an uncharacteristic public display of anger. I usually don’t let my emotions get the best of me. I don’t know if it’s the drink I had or what, but I’m feeling pretty pissed off right now, and I don’t care who knows.
    “Easy, slugger,” the bartender says with a chuckle. “There’s girls all over this place. Take your pick.”
    Turning away from the bar, I look over the rest of the club with a sudden sense of disgust. I don’t want any of those other girls. I want the sassy t-shirt wearing chick with the sweet ass that told me I wasn’t a prince.
    She’s right about that. I’m a King.
    “Why don’t I get you another drink?” The bartender asks from behind me.
    “Nah,” I say, getting more annoyed by the minute. “I’ll prolly head out in a few.”
    “Yeah? Geez, I thought you may have stuck around and waited for her. Well, let me know if you need anything.”
    Stick around and wait for her. Yeah right.
    What am I? Some kind of high school virgin waiting outside class to try and work up the courage to ask the hot girl out? What a joke. Girls come to me. This visit to the strip club is a rare occurrence, and I’m basically just here because the boys dragged me into it. It’s bad enough I gave “Natalia” forty bucks to shake her lackluster