Dead Man’s Hand 2

Blair

“You look flipping fantastic.” I linked my arms through that of my best friends as she leads us towards the non-descript, a run down bar in the middle of an equally run down street. My brother Bennet bringing up the rear. Like an overgrown wanna be bodyguard.

Not that he had a chance against men like Chelsea’s dad. Now that was a man who knew how to handle himself. It seeped out of his pores. The pure masculine toxicity of him. And he wasn’t bad looking for an old guy either.

I had been with worse.

Hell, I had daddy issues and everyone knew it. But what could I say, I liked that Chelsea’s dad liked what he saw when he looked at me.

He hadn’t exactly been subtle about it.

I liked it when they lusted after me. When they kept looking at my tits like they wanted to take a bite. It was one of the reasons I had them done, to begin with.

Unlike many of the older men I had been with, I was betting Fender wouldn’t just be just some beer-bellied slob pounding away on top of me. He loo