by Jenika Snow
She stared at him, her mouth hanging open in shock at how blunt he’d been.
“Baby, if you’re shocked about that this week is going to ruin you,” he said and looked over his shoulder, his sunglasses still in place, and that damn smirk on his face.
Clenching her teeth because he kept calling her “baby”, and even more so because she liked it, she followed him into the house. It smelled a little stale, like the windows hadn’t been opened in far too long. The curtains were drawn, and when he walked over to them and pushed the material open, the dust in the air could be seen.
“Looks like you haven’t lived in here in a while.” She’d been mainly talking to herself, but he gave a grunt, which seemed to be the caveman response he liked to give more often than not.
“I rarely come here. I normally stay at the club.” He tossed her bag on the couch, and a wall of dust puffed up. She left the door open, didn’t move from her spot, and wondered, as they looked at each other, if he would start with the whole fucking her against the wall routine.
“Where will I sleep?” Of course it may have been dumb as shit to actually think he’d give her a room to herself, but she figured it didn’t hurt to throw the question out there.
The corner of his mouth kicked up, and he lifted his hand to remove his sunglasses. “Sleep? Well, Butters,” he said and tucked the sunglasses into the collar of his shirt, walking toward her in the process. “There won’t be much sleeping going on, just to let you know.” That smirk rose to a full grin. “But, when we do find ourselves sexually exhausted, you’ll be right next to me, in my bed.”
He was so close now that the scent of the cologne he wore, or maybe it was just his natural, potent aroma, filled her head. She felt slightly intoxicated, a little dizzy, and placed her hand on the door behind her. The act caused the wood to slowly close until the click of it firmly being shut was the only thing she could hear.
“You seem scared,” he said in a low, deep voice. “Do I frighten you, pretty girl?”
The way he said that last part, the endearment, had her feeling this weird kind of pleasure, this tightness at the base of her spine. It was a strange feeling, something she couldn’t quite describe. Butters felt bared for him, every part of her just out in the open. Mayhem looked down at her, stared right into her eyes, as if he saw every part of her, as if he knew exactly who she was, and what she was made of.
“Well?” he asked again. “Tell me.” He took another step closer, and she felt his body heat slam into her even harder.
“No,” she said and licked her lips. “You don’t frighten me.” It was a lie, an outright one at that, but she wasn’t about to let this man intimidate her.
“Bullshit, baby.” He held her gaze with his for several more seconds, but then looked at her mouth, holding there for a moment before lifting his eyes back to her face. “You can lie to yourself,” Mayhem said and placed a hand on the door by her head, caging her in, “but I want you to know I can read you like an open fucking book. Ain’t nothing getting by me, Butters.”
She panted, her mouth parted, her breathing ragged. Why was this man affecting her so much? She’d held strong those times he’d tried to get her in his bed. She considered herself a badass. But having him so close, being essentially locked away with him, at his sexual mercy, had this arousal moving through her. She thought he’d kiss her given how close he was, how intently and hard he was staring at her mouth. Mayhem pushed back and smirked again.
“The bathroom’s down the hall. You can clean up, if you want. I have some shit to do at the club, and will be there for pretty late.”
She wasn’t stupid enough to think he’d leave her here.
“Ready to get this party started, baby?”
****
Mayhem watched Butters behind the bar, and like a fucking creep he stayed in the corner of the club, the shadows hiding him. Fuck, ever since seeing her that first time at the bar, he’d wanted her. Mayhem didn’t ever admit to any weakness, but only to himself he did admit that Butters was his fucking weakness.
His desire, possessiveness, and obsession for her had been instant.
Mayhem had fucked his fair share of women, a lot of the club whores that hung around, and really any woman that didn’t want commitments or a relationship. He wasn’t into the whole old lady bullshit, didn’t want someone clinging to him, expecting to have him watch her back.
What Mayhem wanted was a good screw, the best fuck he’d ever had, and looking at Butters, hearing her sass, seeing the badass attitude she had, and knowing she was probably so sweet between the thighs, he knew she’d be fire in the bedroom. Mayhem had grown obsessed thinking about it, thinking about her. But keeping that shit deep down was the façade he’d play, how he needed to act. Showing he cared at all would make him look like a pussy, and being in the MC meant he had to be strong at all times.
He didn’t show anyone his emotions, not even Claire. That was for the weak, a male that wasn’t prepared to kill with his bare hands to watch over his club and his family. But, he supposed, coming in and helping her with the debt for her brother wasn’t exactly acting like he didn’t give a shit.
He continued to watch her, his cock hard as he followed her around the bar. She fit in, even after only being here for a few hours. She knew how to play the part that was for sure.
Butters grabbed a bottle of whiskey and tilted it in her hands. She had on a crop top, her tits big and bouncing as she moved. After she’d taken a shower he’d told her to change into something slutty, something revealing. Of course that had been for his benefit alone. He could have fucked her right there against his front door, not waited, but he was a patient guy, knew how to bide his time. Waiting would make being with her even better.
There was no doubt Butters knew how to tempt a man, to tease and arouse the crowd, even if he could see in her eyes she was detached from it all. She was the type of woman that if one of them got too close to her without an invitation she would cut their balls off. He’d seen her anger before, and fuck, did that turn him on. He didn’t want some woman that was weak. He wanted a partner, even if only between the sheets, that could hold her own.
He might have agreed to have her here to work, to keep a low profile, keep the guys liquored-up, entertained, and to give him some eye candy, but the fact remained he watched her, obsessed about her, more times than he should. She was his, whether she wanted to be or not, and he’d have that sweet ass sooner rather than later.
Hell, he didn’t have to pay for pussy, didn’t have to have to clear debts to have her at the club. But as much as he wanted this to just be about sex, the truth was he felt something more for her. It had only taken her denying him, her smart assed mouth, and his growing obsession for her that had him willing to do whatever the fuck she wanted. Of course he’d never admit that to anyone, didn’t even really like admitting it to himself.
He’d used her situation at home, the fact she was desperate for money, as a tool, a pawn in getting what he wanted. And because of that he was willing to bend for her. He was a sick fuck, determined to get what he desired, and what he lusted after with a fierceness that rivaled anything else, was her.
When he finally had her in his bed he’d fuck Butters until she couldn’t walk straight for the next week.
Mayhem grabbed his beer and finished it off, watching her the entire time. He could hear Bishop and Cricket laughing drunkenly. They were from another charter, and were passing through, but were crashing at the clubhouse for the night.
“I need some pussy and whiskey,” Cricket hollered out.
“Give us pussy. We’ve been riding all damn day. I need my dick to be so worked over it’s fucking numb,” Bishop yelled out, both of the bikers drunk. A couple of the sweet-butts walked up to them, and they grabbed the women around the waist and hauled them on onto their laps. Cricket started motor boating the tits of the club whore he held, and Bishop had his hand snaked up the skirt of the bitch on his lap.
Mayhem turned his attention a
way from Bishop and Cricket, and looked at Butters again. She was now on the bar, dancing for the guys, making the sweet-butts jealous. Most of the club whores that hung out at the MC were only after getting their pussies filled with dick, but there were a couple that he’d seen wanted more, wanted to be an old lady. But a biker didn’t want some used up cunt, at least Mayhem didn’t. He didn’t want an old lady that his brothers had all had their dicks shoved up inside.
“Hey, Mayhem.”
He turned his head and saw Easy, one of the sweet-butts that had gotten her name for obvious reasons, walking toward him. She was in some high as hell “fuck-me” heels, a skirt short enough he knew if she bent over he’d get a prime shot of her pussy and ass, and a shirt that was white enough he could see her nipples and areolas as clearly as if she hadn’t worn anything at all.
Mayhem turned back and looked at Butters, and when Easy came closer he knew she clearly wasn’t taking the not so subtle hint that he wasn’t interested.
“Mayhem, when are you going to let me have some of that cock?” she said without having any kind of shame. Easy leaned against his table, her ass knocking over his empty beer bottle.
“Get lost.” He continued to watch Butters dance, his dick hard, but only for one woman. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Easy looked toward the bar, and he knew she was watching Butters as well.
“She dances like she’s the shit, like she’s got the tightest pussy around.”
“She probably does,” he said without emotion, without hesitation. And I’ll be sampling that pussy real soon.
Butter grabbed the whiskey bottle Ash handed her, and he growled out low when he noticed the interest in Ash’s gaze. If that fucker thought he’d get some of Butters’s sweet ass, Mayhem would have no issues setting the man straight, Patch or not. Butters brought the whiskey bottle to her mouth and tipped it back, taking a healthy swig from it. She’d been doing this since she stepped behind the bar, and he could see she was getting wasted. Maybe she thought if she was drunk and passed out he’d leave her the fuck alone. Mayhem didn’t rape women.
“Come on, Mayhem. I’ve had almost all of the Patches. I have a few left, you and Big, even Dirty is on my list. My pussy gets so damn wet with just a snap of your fingers.”
“If you haven’t had those Patches by now, that should be an indication they don’t want you.” He still looked at Butters.
Easy reached out and was about to touch his cut, but he grabbed her wrist and glared at her.
“Don’t fucking touch my cut. You know the rules.” He let go of her hand, glaring at her, and not hiding the menace in his expression. “Now get the fuck away from me. I’m not interested, never have been. I don’t like dirty, loose pussy, and you stink of it, Easy.” Mayhem was suddenly in a foul mood, and having Easy here only made it worse.
Easy snorted, started murmuring something under her breath, and when she left he focused on Butters again. Butters wasn’t a loose lay. She didn’t even want him. She, in fact, wanted nothing to do with him, and was only here because she needed his help. He was a sick bastard because that had his dick jerking in arousal even more.
Yeah, he’d be hitting that real soon, and then once he was done he’d get her out of his system and move the fuck on. At least that’s what he told himself.
Chapter Eight
Butters should have gone to Hollywood to act. That’s how good she was, especially under pressure. Or maybe it was the fact she was getting trashed that had her not giving a shit right now?
She stood behind the bar, acting natural, like she wasn’t in deep shit and was here to pay off a debt … a debt that hadn’t even been dealt with yet. Her mind was full of images of her brother getting hurt, of the Cardonas coming after them. But the one currently at the forefront of her mind was the fact she felt Mayhem’s gaze on her.
They’d gotten to the club a few hours ago, but she hadn’t seen him do any of the “work” he’d said he had to do. No, she’d seen him take a seat at the corner table. She was trying her best to ignore him, but every once in a while she found herself looking at him, not even realizing that she was until their gazes were locked.
“Girl, you are fuckin’ rocking it,” Ash said from right below her.
Butters looked down from where she stood at the bar and saw Ash staring up at her. The biker was big, with a head of shaggy dark hair, his eyes this light, almost unnatural blue color. He was an attractive man, in a savage, brutal way, as were all the bikers she’d seen in the club. But he didn’t make her feel this heat, this intense warmth move through her like Mayhem did. But then again no one knew why she was really here, or at least Mayhem had assured her of that.
Butters didn’t know why she even cared what anyone thought. She wasn’t in the best situation to begin with, and these men were hardcore, doing illegal things to make their living. The women that hung around were all but whores to the bikers, so she supposed she was no different from them.
She grinned down at Ash, still playing the part. She could be sexy, sultry, and tease everyone. But if anyone put their hands on her she’d have no problem kicking their balls into their guts.
You wouldn’t do that with Mayhem, though.
He was arrogant, overbearing, and thought he could have her at any cost.
And he will.
Closing her eyes and drinking more of the whiskey, she felt the world tip, and reached out to steady herself. The wall was close to where she stood at the end of the bar. Opening her eyes and breathing when her vision focused again, she looked at where Mayhem sat. She’d seen a club whore go over to him, but he hadn’t looked interested. She hated that she even cared, that the alcohol was making her more emotional than she needed to be. This was just a sex deal, something to help save Nate’s life. Mayhem meant nothing to her, was nothing more than a means to an end.
“Come on, sweetheart, before you fall and break your neck.” Ash held his hand out to her, and she took it. Before she was even fully off the bar he had a glass of ice water for her and some pain pills. “For later, because you’re gonna need them.” He grinned, flashing a set of white, straight teeth. He certainly was the pretty boy of the bunch, even if he had that savageness going on with him.
“Two shots of scotch, Ash,” a club whore said, her gaze on Butters. There was this nasty scowl on her face, and Butters recognized her as the bitch that had been all up on Mayhem.
The bitch? Really? Simmer it down, girl. You don’t care, remember?
“I got this, Ash,” Butters said and set two shot glasses in front of the skank, grabbed the scotch, and poured the glasses full. “Bottoms up.” Bitch. Butters grinned.
The woman glared even harder, took the glasses, but before she turned around and left she grinned at Butters.
“You see that biker over there?” She pointed to Mayhem, but Butters didn’t say anything. “I’m going to ride his dick so hard tonight he won’t be able to get it back up for a week.”
Butters was pissed, hated she felt any kind of jealousy, because it was all misplaced. She’d turned Mayhem down on more than one occasion, and no matter how attractive he was, how much she actually did want him, she kept her wall up. “Have fun with that,” Butters said, her smile in place, and not showing any emotion. “Ash, I need some fresh air.” Before Ash replied, or the bitch could respond, Butters turned and made her way out from behind the bar, headed down the hall, and slipped out of the back door.
There she leaned against the brick wall of the club, closed her eyes, and wished she hadn’t drunk so much, because having this buzz meant she was having a hard time shutting off how she felt.
She rubbed her hand over her chest, feeling the tightness control her body, the alcohol making her overly emotional. Why did she care what anyone in this club did?
It’s not just this club or Mayhem. It’s everything.
Yeah, it was a little bit of everything, but the whiskey had made her feel things she’d tried to keep back, keep hidden deep inside of her
.
Butters could hear some of the club members, even a sweet-butt or two talking just on the other side of the corner. The lighting was dim back here. The only thing illuminating this part of the ground was a light attached to the massive two bay door garage across the way. The yellow glow didn’t quite reach where she was, but that was okay because how she felt right now matched the shadows that surrounded her.
“Just get through this and everything will be fine.” She closed her eyes. “Nate will be fine, and you’ll go back to your boring life.” She could hear the music from the club thumping through her veins. Wrapping her arms around her waist she stared up at the sky. The moon was full and seemed so bright and large above her, slightly blurring from the whiskey she’d consumed. “It could be worse,” she whispered to herself.
She didn’t know how long she stood out there, but it felt like hours. In all reality it was probably only a few moments, but it was the sound of boots hitting the ground right on the inside of the door that had her straightening. The door opened, the shadows obscure so she couldn’t see anything but a big, dark figure, but she knew who it was. Butters didn’t move from her place, but the longer she stared at him, the more Mayhem’s form came into view.
The sound of a lighter going off, followed by Mayhem inhaling, told her he was smoking. A few seconds later the scent of marijuana filled the small space around them. With his back still to her she was afraid to move, afraid to even breathe.
“You’re drunk,” Mayhem said, his back still toward her.
When she didn’t respond he slowly turned around, the joint between his lips, the end lit up orange as he inhaled from it. He pulled it away from his mouth, and after holding in the smoke for a few seconds he exhaled. The sweet cloud wafted around her, relaxing her.
“You didn’t answer me.”
“You didn’t ask a question,” she responded. He didn’t move, didn’t speak again right away, and didn’t show any emotion.
“I saw Easy talking with you. I can only imagine what the bitch said.”