“Damn, we need a bigger screen to see these. Flint, get me one of your laptops,” Ruby grumbles as everyone leans in close to look at her phone.
“Fuck off, Ruby. Ain’t happening,” he grunts, but there’s no hate in his tone. He would never disrespect Law’s daughter.
“Fine, whatever. Gator, get me yours.” She doesn’t even look up at me, and I laugh, but no one else does.
I glance around. Those not staring at the phone are looking at me like they expect me to do it. “Seriously?”
My girl shrugs beside me. “If you don’t mind. Might be easier than them all trying to snatch the phone out of Ruby’s hands.”
I stand from my squatting position and ask the obvious question. “And why don’t they use their own phones?”
“’Cause we all want to see it at once and discuss. Now get,” Ruby says with a flick of her wrist at me, as if I’m a bug to shoo away.
I roll my eyes at her, but I do, in fact, get my laptop from my room. Not because the president’s daughter asked but to make my girl happy.
I’m fucking floored by this. I had no clue. Which is crazy, since I know almost everything else about her. I kind of like that she had some secrets I didn’t find out on my own. I like learning about things about her the old-fashioned way—you know, by asking questions rather than Google searches. Not that I’m going to give up doing it. I still like to know most things by finding it out myself on the web, but I don’t mind learning this.
It’s fucking hot as hell knowing my girl’s got an endless supply of lingerie. Helps me not feel bad if I ever decide to take the time and see her in one a second before I rip it down the middle. She might look good in clothes, but I prefer her naked and on me. Or under me. Hell, I’m not all that worried about how it happens, as long as I got her with me and we’re both enjoying the naked time.
I unlock it a second before I hand it over. They snatch it up so quickly, you’d think it was the last cupcake in the world.
“Trusting fool,” Flint snickers beside me.
I shrug as I take my girl’s elbow and lift her out of her seat to claim it for myself before I bring her back down on my lap. “Not much on there. It’s a new one. I got it a few weeks back in Washington when my old one crashed. Haven’t found the time to transfer many files over.”
“I freaking love how you categorized everything like a spice rack. This is so damn classy,” Ruby says, and the girls around her nod in agreement.
“Check out the spice levels on them too,” Jules says as she points at something on the screen.
I’m dying to see what they’re talking about, so I jostle my girl a bit, then do a bit more to keep her giggling as she seems to like it, while I get my phone out of my pants pocket. I pull her back into me, and she rests her head on my shoulder as she watches me type her store name into the search window, then download the app recommendation that pops open.
The girls weren’t lying. This is legit awesome. At the top are all the spices lined up like a spice rack, but when you click on one, it directs you to all the lingerie in that color. The spice levels go from nothing, which is modest, to six chilies, which are the most risqué things I’ve ever seen. I jiggle my girl again, but this time it’s to adjust my growing dick that I can’t reach, as I have an arm around her and the other hand on my phone.
“Oh look, here’s the breastfeeding bra section. Damn, these are pretty. Got half a mind to buy some myself,” Ruby says, but it’s Mama Bear who leans in and moves the screen to face her more.
All of us hear her gasp, and she’s quick to hand Wyatt to Chains, who’s more than happy to take his son in his arms. She stopped feeding the little man while I was getting my laptop, I think, as she’s all tucked away now. Not that I’m looking. I’d never judge a woman who feeds her kid, and I’ll never look at a woman in this club feeding their own if I want to keep my head on. If they’re anything like me, which I know they are, they would have no problem slicing and dicing any brother who stared at his girl’s tits, no matter what she was wearing or doing.
“How did you come up with all of this?” Maddy asks in wonder.
Chains even leans down to look as I go to that section and scan through it. If I find them hot, then no wonder a woman who might feel nervous about how her body is getting back to its normal shape after pushing out a watermelon would love them.
Bailey shrugs but doesn’t move from leaning against me. “Got tired of not finding anything in my size that wasn’t black or white. I wanted color, and I wanted something other than a push-up that would push my boobs out and be zero benefit for me. I was floating the idea around for a while, and then I did a volunteer night at the hospital and got to chatting with a cancer survivor who was crying about losing her boobs and never feeling pretty again. I mentioned breast implants, and she loved that idea but also complained about the lack of sexiness for those with big boobs like she had before cancer took them. So, I decided to change that. Started small and did some advertising here and there. I figured it was better to keep my name out of it. I’ve seen people shame shop owners on social media based on their looks, and I wanted my stuff to speak for itself with no influence from me. Filed for an LLC out of state under my mom’s maiden name and got to work. I didn’t think about the spicy part of it till I was talking it over with my mom, who was cooking something and started complaining that there was never enough spice in some dishes. I took it as if there isn’t enough spice out there for some people either, especially in the lingerie world, and it just took off from there.”
“Damn, these things cost how much?” Chains says, glancing over at us before he looks back at the screen.
“How much?” Flint asks, and Chains turns it for him to see. “Damn.”
Bailey shrugs. “People pay it.”
“What’s your cut after all the fees and payouts?” Cheyanne asks as she leans over to look. Her guy isn’t letting her get up to see, so it’s a bit of a stretch, not that she’s complaining. Cheyanne is good for the silent big guy. He doesn’t talk much, and she talks enough for the both of them.
“I take home about 40 percent of the daily profit.”
“That doesn’t seem like much,” Bulldog says.
“We clear over thirty grand on a slow day.”
Every single jaw drops to the ground at the way she says it. Almost the same way a person would order a beer at the bar. No bells or whistles, just laying it out there that she’s worth millions, maybe even billions.
