I had no idea what had come over me. It appeared I'd left my brain on the stage as I'd exited my last performance. Hell-bent on escaping the tattooed god who now sat in front of me, I'd managed to land myself in his debt as well as Union 21's. As if crossing Sam, and therefore Jesse, hadn't been foolish enough, I'd ended up on the back of a menacing Harley that growled like its owner. And both did things to my panties I'd never admit out loud.
My knowledge of motorcycles was even more limited than that of stripping and gang banging, yet here I was straddling a beast that vibrated between my thighs and threatened to end my life with one wrong move. While I should have been crippled by fear, all I could think about was how the monotony of the hum and the wind against my face had me flush a
