Read Online Sentinel - Devil Riders MC Book 1 (MC Romance Novel with FREE Bonus Novel!) by Ashley Rhodes - Free Book Online
Authors: Ashley Rhodes
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work. It all seemed a little bit seedy to her, and if there was one thing she was certain of, it was that there was no way she was gonna end up as a coffin cat, no matter what. She’d make sure the guys saw her differently, learned to give her some respect. And she still had no idea if there was any possibility with Rafe. She had no idea if he had a girl, and she certainly wouldn’t ask Trish.
"So don't these guys have wives or long-term girlfriends or anything?"
Trish shrugged as if it didn’t matter.
"Some do.” She nodded to a back table. “You see a guy bring a girl in with him, she’s usually his old lady. He sure wouldn’t bring in a girl he was trying to impress, and they’ve already got enough sluts here. So when you see a girl come in with one of the guys, she’s probably his old lady, or if nothing else, she’s a biker bitch that belongs to a couple of them.”
“They share women?”
Trish laughed. “Seems like some girls dig that too. It wouldn’t work for me, I tell you. Either way, whether she’s some guy’s old lady or just a biker bitch, most of the ones who belong to a guy stick close to them. You don’t usually see them going in back.” Trish looked at Chrissy. “You seem awfully interested in the women. Are you into girls?”
“Not so you’d notice.” Trish shot her a look and she wondered if she’d confused her. “That means, no, Trish. No way am I into girls. I’m just trying to sort out how this little subculture works so I don’t step on any toes, at least not by accident.”
The exchange seemed to remind Trish that she was supposed to dislike Chrissy. “Subculture… is that what you call it, the way people behave, or don’t? Well, you’ll figure it out soon enough.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Assuming you stick around. Not that I see that happening." Then she walked away, leaving Chrissy hurt. Did she look that fragile? Well she damn well wasn’t. She couldn’t be. Life was hard and you had to be tough.
We'll see about that, Trish.
Certainly she knew the biker world was different, and the reality wasn’t exactly what she’d expected—nothing like she’d expected. Still, when Chrissy thought about it for a little bit, these bikers and the girls who hung with them didn't seem all that different from what she’d seen in school, especially with the cliques, and bikers were definitely a clique. At school there were always the girls who hung around the jocks, the loose girls who would brag about fucking the captain of the football team.
She remembered being shocked when one girl, a cheerleader, boasted about giving blow jobs to the first string of the basketball team after they won the championship. As if her idea of rewarding them that way made her special. At the time Chrissy had thought she was just talking, but later she found out it was true and she flat didn’t understand her any more than she’d ever make sense of the women who came in this bar with the intention of having sex with a biker, or more than one. Nor could she figure out women who wanted one guy enough that they didn’t mind if he shared her with his buddies. But then the only difference between that cheerleader and these women was that these were a little older, more worn and rougher around the edges. She saw one other difference too—the looks in the eyes of the women sitting with bikers said they were hungry for something different, something that made them feel alive.
Chrissy spent the rest of the shift serving drinks and mostly sitting and listening to the banter among the bikers. Slowly she went from being intimidated by them, a little concerned by their rough manners and vulgar language, to seeing them as basically nice guys who felt they needed to act tough. She could understand that, relate to putting up a bluff exterior. After all, talking back to them was her way of doing the same thing—keeping anyone from seeing she felt vulnerable. As the evening wore on she
"So don't these guys have wives or long-term girlfriends or anything?"
Trish shrugged as if it didn’t matter.
"Some do.” She nodded to a back table. “You see a guy bring a girl in with him, she’s usually his old lady. He sure wouldn’t bring in a girl he was trying to impress, and they’ve already got enough sluts here. So when you see a girl come in with one of the guys, she’s probably his old lady, or if nothing else, she’s a biker bitch that belongs to a couple of them.”
“They share women?”
Trish laughed. “Seems like some girls dig that too. It wouldn’t work for me, I tell you. Either way, whether she’s some guy’s old lady or just a biker bitch, most of the ones who belong to a guy stick close to them. You don’t usually see them going in back.” Trish looked at Chrissy. “You seem awfully interested in the women. Are you into girls?”
“Not so you’d notice.” Trish shot her a look and she wondered if she’d confused her. “That means, no, Trish. No way am I into girls. I’m just trying to sort out how this little subculture works so I don’t step on any toes, at least not by accident.”
The exchange seemed to remind Trish that she was supposed to dislike Chrissy. “Subculture… is that what you call it, the way people behave, or don’t? Well, you’ll figure it out soon enough.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Assuming you stick around. Not that I see that happening." Then she walked away, leaving Chrissy hurt. Did she look that fragile? Well she damn well wasn’t. She couldn’t be. Life was hard and you had to be tough.
We'll see about that, Trish.
Certainly she knew the biker world was different, and the reality wasn’t exactly what she’d expected—nothing like she’d expected. Still, when Chrissy thought about it for a little bit, these bikers and the girls who hung with them didn't seem all that different from what she’d seen in school, especially with the cliques, and bikers were definitely a clique. At school there were always the girls who hung around the jocks, the loose girls who would brag about fucking the captain of the football team.
She remembered being shocked when one girl, a cheerleader, boasted about giving blow jobs to the first string of the basketball team after they won the championship. As if her idea of rewarding them that way made her special. At the time Chrissy had thought she was just talking, but later she found out it was true and she flat didn’t understand her any more than she’d ever make sense of the women who came in this bar with the intention of having sex with a biker, or more than one. Nor could she figure out women who wanted one guy enough that they didn’t mind if he shared her with his buddies. But then the only difference between that cheerleader and these women was that these were a little older, more worn and rougher around the edges. She saw one other difference too—the looks in the eyes of the women sitting with bikers said they were hungry for something different, something that made them feel alive.
Chrissy spent the rest of the shift serving drinks and mostly sitting and listening to the banter among the bikers. Slowly she went from being intimidated by them, a little concerned by their rough manners and vulgar language, to seeing them as basically nice guys who felt they needed to act tough. She could understand that, relate to putting up a bluff exterior. After all, talking back to them was her way of doing the same thing—keeping anyone from seeing she felt vulnerable. As the evening wore on she
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