Sleepovers

Savannah

“What? Do you want me to lose on purpose? Am I tarnishing your reputation, Angel?” I tease him from the cot they have let me use.

Damon, Moonpie, Sunshine, Doctor Dickhead, Daxton—who is my raincheck brother I have learned—one by the name of Dane, and I are all playing poker.

Poker is a lot like truth or dare.

So naturally I kick demonic ass and have raked in a big pile of chips.

“No. I’m fine. Worry about yourself. Keep taking my damn money and you can sleep somewhere else.” The table laughs.

“I could sleep on my big pile of money like Scrooge McDuck.”

A few chuckles.

I look up from my cards and let out a low, evil laugh of my own before pushing a handful of chips into the middle and proudly stating “all in” while looking at Damon head-on, slowly working around the table.

A few cuss words and some bullshits are called, but like the last ten rounds, I pull all the money in and smile from ear to ear.

“That’s it, you’re out of my room.”

He tosses his cards down and takes a swig of his beer, shaking his head as his brothers nod along like they know anything.

“Hey Daxxy, my evening just opened up, how’s about that raincheck?”

I snicker and wink at the tall, metal-pierced man across the table from me.

He smirks, blowing me a kiss which has Damon popping up from the table and shoving my cot down the hallway far too fast.

“I was kidding, Angel!”

I hold on to the sides of the wheelie bed and squeal as he spins me to face him.

“It’s a joke!”

I look up to him from the bed; the hallway is dark and his body is blocking out the light from the bar. The bed is actually quite high, coming to his waist.

“Okay fine, more of a maybe, but—”

Damon cuts me off, his fingers taking stock in my thick ponytail and digging until he hooks under the hairband and pulls down.

His mouth smashes to mine, keeping me in this arched-up position.

“You talk more shit than anyone I have ever known,” he grumbles against my lips.

“And yet you love it.”

It’s my turn to smirk. His full lips skim my white teeth before his other hand comes around and presses my round cheeks together to make me kiss back.

He isn’t sweet or gentle at first. It’s like he can’t stand me but he gives in. He fights it just like I do.

His kiss isn’t bruising or branding. He doesn’t take.

At first he was mad, annoyed with me and wanted me to feel his power and frustration, but after the first thirty seconds or so his stress melts away to give me what he really wanted.

Damon is not what he seems.

You would think a blood-made biker prince would take and want to be a wild caveman, but Damon is sweet.

Don’t get me wrong. He is still a colossal douchecanoe, but not when it comes to his body, and what he gives with it is sweet. It’s almost romantic.

It’s his personality that gets him into trouble.

His tongue sweeps over my bottom lip and, with a gentlemanly essence, asks for entry.

It’s slow, planned out, gentle and caring. Damon’s kiss, his touch and the way he responds to me is in a savoring way.

Parting my lips, I let him deepen our kiss. My scalp prickles from his hold in my brown hair, my back starting to ache from being kept at this upward angle.

“You piss me off,” he growls against my jaw, planting another kiss before he lets me go.

“You realize you are no walk in the park either?”

I swing my hand out as he turns to walk away from me and land a swift slap to his ass.

Turning around, he rolls his eyes at me.

“Really?”

He stays still, looking at me from over his shoulder like he can’t believe I would dare such a thing.

“Yes.” My hand cups his cheek from over his black jeans to get a handful.

“Oh my lanta, Angel! Baby got back! Bring that ass over here, I’m not done yet.”

I giggle and pinch at his bottom, making him wiggle as he slaps at my hands behind him, telling me to fucking stop it while laughing.

Before he can walk away, I slip my hand into his pocket. When he tries to take off again I come with so I don’t have to walk back to collect my winnings.

Damon leads me to the table and takes back his seat across from me, my cot going back in place, and another round of cards gets put out.

I win two more times and take all of Moonpie’s money, along with Dane’s.

“Shit. Who taught you how to play like that?”

Doctor Dickhead/Darrion folds so I don’t take his few dollars.

“My dad. I got into trouble a lot with truth or dare when I was younger. So they tried to get me hooked on something else. Poker is a lot like it.”

I move my cards around and look at the people still playing.

“What got you in trouble for truth or dare? It’s a kids game to get a kiss in. Or a drinking game to get your dick sucked.”

Daxon tries to look as emotionless as ever.

He had a good hand and was trying to distract me, but it wouldn’t work.

“If you don’t have an imagination, sure. Truth or dare is the best game ever. I am the best that’s ever been. I got in trouble because…”

I place my bet and watch Daxon try to change his hand around.

“I allegedly did some illegal things that they didn’t approve of. And I broke some stuff, got Percy in trouble a few times.”

Daxon lays his hand down like he was the cock of the walk. Damon and Sunshine had bailed out for this round, leaving only Daxxy and me to duke it out.

“See, little D, that’s how you handle her.”

He stands up, letting his arms go around the pile of chips and go to pull them back.

I lay my cards out like I had all the time in the world, looking at Damon while I destroy Daxon’s hopes and dreams of beating me.

“See, Angel, that’s how I’ll handle him. By taking all of his money and spending it on you.”

Daxon’s jaw drops when he reads my cards, his arms hanging lifelessly with a small thud on the table as he lets go of my money.

“No fucking way! You’re counting cards, no one is that lucky.”

Daxon’s face is pinched up, his cheeks flushed red, and there’s a desperate twinkle in his eyes; he looks shook.

“Yes, you got me. I counted cards that I can’t see or touch. Bingo.”

The table laughs, Damon taking the pile of chips for me as he cackles up at the ceiling. He smiles so bright, like I’ve given him the biggest gift in the world.

“What’s going on here?”

Lucien’s voice comes up behind me, the disapproval clear in his ungrateful tone.

“Van kicked our asses in poker. She took all of our money,” Dane whines.

“Aw, poor baby, tell daddy all your troubles,” I mock.

Dane flips me off, making me laugh.

“She’s a Madis, of course she’s good at lying.”

Struck a nerve, he did.

The table goes quiet.

“Well actually, sir, I will have to respectfully disagree. Not only does my last name have nothing to do with my capabilities on such matters, poker isn’t lying.

“It’s bluffing. Would you like to play? I promise to let you keep your money when I’m done wiping the floor with you.”

He snorts.

The king of bikers snorted at me.

“Let me? Let me keep my money?”

He snaps and Darrion jumps from his seat. The table looks super uncomfortable.

Damon’s smile was gone, Daxon looks more worried than embarrassed anymore, and Dane held this look of remorse on his face that Moonpie and Sunshine both held.

“Yes, I’ll let you. A friendly game between soon-to-be friends.”

His cold eyes rake over my face and he pulls on the family smirk that all of his sons have been blessed with.

“Friends?” He raises his eyebrows while shuffling the cards.

“Best. Friends.” I clearly abbreviate the words just to be a little bit of a dick.

He nods along, slinging cards my way.

I hold a lot more money than he does in chip form, but he pulls a bundle of green bills from his pocket.

Dropping it to the table, the black-finished clip on it has that same ornate finishing that his boots had earlier.

“Aces wild,” he grunts.

I rearrange my cards and wait patiently.

He glares up from his cards, watching my face for a tell, but I don’t show one.

That man is going down.

I’m taking him to Thunderdome.

We go back and forth for a while. Shit-talking and trying to piss one another off.

He makes digs about my uncle, about Percy and his sexuality.

I tell him if he was asking I could show him the male G-spot, no problem.

He works in a few things about the crash, not coming right out and saying shit, but saying it all with the unspoken words.

If I wasn’t friends with Damon I would have fired off on this old fuck the second he said my mother’s name.

“She was sexy. I would have fucked her good. With or without the last name,” he rambles, looking for something to get me riled up.

“Thanks. I know, it runs in the family.” I wave a hand down my face.

“Now I know what you look like, I can see it in your sons, but I am guessing, would Damon and Daxon get their dark eyes from their mother? Queen Nina must have been breathtaking.”

The entire room falls silent, like I had said the magic word. If the tension wasn’t high before, it is now.

His eyes hold so much malice from the mention of her name, I don’t look at anyone else. I don’t want Damon to think I am being a bitch.

I am. But not to him.

He adds money to the pot and stops talking. Which was a good move on his part.

“I have to say, for a Madis you have balls.”

He takes a drink of his beer.

“I have to say, for an asshole, you have beautiful sons.”

I am ready. “All in.”

He doesn’t bat an eye. The entire bar is watching, and for a second I think about losing on purpose.

For a second.

Just the one.

I think in that one single second that I don’t want to show him up. That would be rude—I am in his house, I am at his mercy, of sorts.

But he can’t continue thinking he is going to push me around. That I am lesser or somehow weak.

The digs on my family, the shit-talking he gave the entire time we played, showed me how disrespectful he is.

With every conversation I’ve had with him, he has shown no respect, nothing but baiting me and for what?

My last name?

I’m proud of being a Madis.

I’m proud of my family.

He is going to shut up or put up.

A sly smile works itself over his face; he looks far too pleased with himself.

A flip of his cards shows his pride.

“Royal flush.” He looks like I would think the devil does when he makes a deal.

“Have you ever heard the song ‘The Devil Comes Down to Georgia’? Your Majesty.”

I hold my cards and wait.

That steel gate on his eyes lingers. But that look of doubt over his newest victory withers.

“The devil went to Georgia?”

“Yes sir. Have you heard it?”

My voice is soft, my face void.

“Sure.” He leans in on his elbows.

“Have you ever been to Savannah, Georgia?”

I was smiling like the Grinch when he decides to play Santa on the inside.

“Stop stalling, girl. Show your cards and accept defeat.”

His fist hits the table.

I take my time, laying down one card at a time, never taking my eyes off his.

One by one, I flip my cards down, showing exactly what he didn’t think I could have.

“You know the part of the song where the devil even brings the band in and uses a golden fiddle?”

I flip my last card down, showing my five of a kind that trumps his hand.

“But still loses. To quote the song: ‘I’ll tell you once, you son of a bitch, I’m the best that’s ever been.’”

Collectively, the entire bar, including the biker king himself, drops their jaws.

Now the silence doesn’t feel so bad.

~Eat shit, Luci!~

~Mwahha!!!~