Biker Angel

“Gile, give the lady what she wants,” the biker told him. “Let’s see if the little girl can hold her liquor.”

Angel threw the biker a glowing smile, transforming her face from passably pretty to got-to-fuck-her, which was her ultimate plan anyway. She wanted him and any other guy watching so hot for her they would throw caution to the wind.

“I’ll take a Jack and Coke.”

The bartender snorted again, but gave her the drink, and five more after the first. Angel was a long way from drunk, but the man beside her didn't need to know that. Dumbass, couldn't he tell when he was about to get very lucky without plowing her with alcohol? Turning her body toward him, she let her legs drop open, giving him a good look at her cleanly waxed twat. The biker’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. His gaze froze on her open thighs, his mouth hanging slightly open.

Small talk was damned near impossible. She was too worked up already, noting there were no other women in the bar. That meant every dick in the room was potentially hers—all she had to do was to take them.
“You like what you see, big boy?” Just to tease him some more, she scooted to the edge of the barstool, letting her legs fall open even more.

“Man, I’d like to taste that.”

Finally! An invitation of sorts. “Do it. I dare you.”