The Biker's Plaything

by Sam Crescent

  She knew it wasn’t healthy. She knew she had issues. And it still didn’t change a thing.

  But a man like Lord would never be satisfied with a nineteen-year-old nobody. He was surrounded by drop-dead gorgeous women. Women with experience. Women who knew how to please a man. Like he said, she was just a little girl to him.

  She had nothing to offer.

  Lord settled on the opposite side of the bed, the mattress dipping and jostling the platters. He leaned on one elbow and popped some fresh grapes into his mouth, glancing over at her as she took a bite of her lasagna. It tasted so good that she couldn’t help but let out a little moan.

  He smirked but kept quiet.

  “Do you have a chef working here?”

  “A couple,” he said.

  She wasn’t expecting that answer. There was very little she knew about the inner workings of a motorcycle club. What she’d learned had been from patrons at the bar, things she’d overheard when they got too loud. Other than that, everything was new to her.

  After eating her fill, she picked at a few of the sweets. They looked like they were taken straight from the display case of a bakery.

  “I haven’t eaten this good … ever,” she said.

  “You’re joking.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not.” Ally wiped her mouth with a napkin and plopped back on the oversized pillow.

  “Things are going to change. You’ll never go hungry again. Your bastard father didn’t deserve a daughter like you.”

  Ally twisted to the side to face him. God, he was sexy as fuck. “You talk like I’m something special. I’m not.”

  “You’re a lot more than you think.”

  She bit her lower lip, knowing she was about to throw his words back in his face. “I’m a fuck toy, remember?”

  “Nothing wrong with that. You’re mine. That means only I’m allowed to play. The brothers have the club whores, but they’ll never have you.”

  “And you’re the prez. You get anyone you want.”

  He never refuted. All he did was stare, unnerving her, like he could read her innermost thoughts. Maybe more.

  “I guess it’s true about green eyes.”

  Chapter Five

  Lord never slept next to a woman. He’d used them for years. They weren’t worth getting to know. More often than not, they were a complete waste of time other than having a pussy, ass, and mouth. Staring at Ally, he had to wonder when he’d lost his fucking mind.

  Twenty-four hours she’d been in his life and already, she was curled up against him like a kitten. He’d put on a horror movie last night. She wasn’t into it at all and spent most of her time hiding behind her hands. It had been cute, watching her. All his life, he’d never met anyone like her.

  Sliding out of the bed, he moved toward his en-suite shower. His cock was rock hard after being next to her all night long. That soft, supple body ready for the taking.

  Turning the water to cold, he allowed the spray to wash down his body to rinse off the night and fog of the morning. He had shit to do, and sticking around watching Ally wasn’t part of his plan.

  He needed to get an update on the whore and the Skull Nation MC and to see what he had to do to deal with it. He didn’t like anyone attempting to take his turf. The whore could have been lying about how she got that fucking slash. He’d learned a long time ago never to take anything at face value.

  Lord touched his own face, wondering what Ally thought of his scars. She didn’t stare at him like some people did. In fact, he’d noticed she rarely looked at him at all. Her gaze was either past his shoulder or on his chest. The few times he did catch her looking at him, she’d quickly avert her gaze.

  After finishing in the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and entered the bedroom to find Ally sitting up in bed.

  “Morning,” she said.

  “Shower is free. There’s a clean toothbrush underneath the sink. I’ll have some clothes ready for you on the bed.”

  “I have my own clothes back at my place,” she said.

  He walked over to her and she shrank back as he put his hands on either side of her body, trapping her in. “Does it look like I give a fuck about what you’ve got in your old life, Ally?”

  “You … you don’t have to worry about me or clothes. That’s all I meant. I’ve got plenty back home.”

  A new insecurity crept up on Lord. He was getting too attached to this girl. The thought of losing her or her wanting her old life unnerved him. He was back in his childhood, hoping for love and compassion but knowing he’d only get pain and rejection. Wanting something he’d never get would only make him weak. Women were fickle and letting down his guard would be one big fucking mistake.

  Ally was only riding this out so she could live and return to her old life.

  Shaking his head, he stood. “Go shower. I’ll tell you what you can and cannot wear.” He turned his back on her, going to his closet. Grabbing a pair of jeans and a shirt, he began to get dressed. Ally hadn’t returned by the time he was ready. He checked the time, and still nothing. He wasn’t a patient man.

  He stormed to the bathroom about to bark orders at her, but when he got to the threshold, he stopped. Ally couldn’t know he was close, and as he listened, he heard her sobbing. These were not weak tears nor an attempt to try to gain attention. The shower cover hid her from view, but he saw the shadow of her crouched down in the bottom. Her hands over her mouth as she tried to muffle the sound.

  Emotions were not something he liked to meddle with.

  For several minutes, he listened. She hated him. Hated everything about their arrangements. He was a fool to think there could ever be more.

  Stepping back from the bathroom, he licked his lips and yelled, “How long are you going to fucking be?”

  Another few seconds’ pause. “A couple of minutes. I’ll be out soon. I promise.” Her voice gave away the fact she’d been crying.

  “I’m heading down. I’ll have someone come and deal with you.”

  “Okay.”

  He wanted her to tell him why she was crying, even if he didn’t want the answers. Instead, he turned on his heel and left the bedroom.

  On his way down, he found the nearest whore, grabbing her arm and forcing her to face him. “Take up some decent food to my bedroom and get her some clothes as well. Don’t fucking test me.” He let her go and she stumbled on her heels.

  They were way too fucking high to be walking around in the club, but the brothers, for some odd reason, couldn’t get enough of the women in high heels. They were completely unsuitable.

  Fuck, he was getting old.

  He headed into his office and glanced over his cell phone. There hadn’t been any missed calls. Collapsing in his office chair, he ran a hand down his face. He hadn’t slept that good in such a long time. It just felt … right having her next to him.

  His office door opened and he wasn’t surprised to see another club whore holding a tray.

  “Hi, Lord,” she said.

  She was already heavily made up. The skirt she wore only just covered her ass and the top, well, there was no point to her even wearing it as he saw nipple. She bent forward, putting his breakfast and coffee in front of him.

  When she lifted up, with her head tilted to the side, she nibbled on her lip. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “No, get out.”

  “Oh, well, I’m available to you.”

  He sat back and looked at her. “Who put you up to this?”

  “No one.”

  Lord picked up his coffee cup and threw it across the room. Hot coffee splashed across all the tiles. “Do I look like the kind of man who likes to be lied to!” He growled the word out.

  “Tank and Rubber said you needed me. That you wanted a good time. I’ve been well tested and the brothers are all satisfied. I promise.” She offered him a smile and he shook his head.

  “Get the fuck out.”

  He had no desire for pussy that h
ad seen several of his brothers pounding it. The club whores were fun, but he wasn’t interested. Not now. Not when he had a precious peach upstairs, ripe for the plucking.

  “And tell someone to clean up this fucking mess,” he called out after her.

  With a knife and fork in hand, he dug into his breakfast, ignoring the next person who came in to scrub at his floors.

  His thoughts returned to Ally upstairs. Had they gotten her some good food? What was she thinking this morning? Why did she fucking cry? None of his questions were going to be answered unless he actually asked them, and there was no way in hell he was doing that.

  Just as he was about to snap and break something, his cell phone went off.

  He checked. It was Stump.

  “Tell me what you’ve got,” he said.

  “There was an attack on one of the brothels. Guess which one.”

  “The same one Misty was working at?” he asked.

  “You got it. I’m in the security room with Brick. We’re checking over the footage. I think Misty is fucking lying. The Skull Nation just walked right in. Five guys. They weren’t wearing cuts, but I’ve seen their ugly fucking faces to know them when I see them. Nothing happened like Misty said,” he said. “We’ve got three dead girls here now, boss. Two men are down, and we’ve got one customer dead as well. He wasn’t a big client.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about the prick. This is still bad for business. No one wants to go to a whorehouse where they could get killed. Find out if the man has any family. Take care of it. Same as the girls.”

  “Already done. One of the girls has two kids, but they live with the dad. I’ll pay him a visit and see what happens.”

  “And where’s Misty now?” he asked.

  “She’s nicely bound and scared. You’d love her crocodile tears.” At the mention of Misty’s tears, it made him think of Ally. Misty’s tears were understandable. She was going to die, no matter what. Her death was inevitable. Why was Ally crying? Her life was probably fucking miserable. She’d been dealing with her father for years, no matter her age. She had a shit life, he got it. Why did she want to go back to it so badly?

  “Get me everything you can. Bring Misty back here to the club. I think it’s going to be another good reminder for everyone of what happens to traitors.”

  Hanging up his cell phone, he had no doubt in his mind that Misty had been bullshitting him. He had a good sense about people. She’d been the one to tell him she wasn’t a rat and how loyal she was. In his experience, someone who said that shit first up was usually a fucking liar.

  He had a bad feeling twisting his gut when it came to Ally. Not because she’d done anything wrong, but because she was telling him the truth.

  Misty was all lies.

  Ally was all truths.

  He’d gotten used to people fucking with him. People like Ally were an entirely new experience for him. She confused him on so many levels.

  Lord finished his breakfast, sitting back, feeling content, but he still needed a fresh coffee.

  He got to his feet and stepped out of his office. The sight just ahead froze him cold.

  A couple of the brothers were laughing their fucking heads off as Ally was shoved to the ground and one of the club whores kicked her in the ribs. Ally cried out.

  What the fuck was happening?

  He also saw how Ally was dressed—a mini skirt and a bikini top that hid next to nothing. And a pair of those ridiculous heels the whores wore. This wasn’t what he wanted, and whoever did this was going to fucking pay.

  Lord had never lost his shit unless dealing with rats and traitors, but right now, his men and whores had turned him into a liar. He’d told Ally she belonged to him and wouldn’t be harmed, and yet here she was. Their deal included her safety.

  When one of the women slammed her foot on Ally’s hand, the scream that tore through the air cut through him.

  Rage flooded his body and he charged to the scene. There was going to be destruction.

  ****

  Pain was all Ally could feel. Never-ending agony. Whoever had stomped on her hand must have broken it.

  Her chest hurt, as did her face. One of her eyes had already started to close from the swollen flesh.

  Just as she was about to give up, the abuse ceased, and she heard a horrible sound that made her cringe.

  Glancing up, she was shocked to see Lord standing there. The look on his face was pure evil.

  He’d humiliated her. Nothing she’d felt for him had been reciprocated.

  The woman who’d brought her some clothes had told her she was going to have to earn her keep. Rats didn’t get a free ride. The skimpy clothes were bad enough, but as soon as they’d pulled her out of the room, the men had mocked her fat ass and horrible tits.

  If this was Lord’s idea of belonging to him, it sucked. This reminded her of being back in high school—only worse. She never dressed like this and now she was so utterly humiliated. And never so alone.

  Death would be preferable about now.

  He bent down toward her and she tried to scramble away. When she did, she whimpered as pain exploded from her ankle and wrist. She stopped and stayed perfectly still, panting as he glared. How much more could she endure?

  “Ally, don’t.”

  Tears traced down her cheeks.

  “Look around you,” he said.

  She frowned. He wasn’t going anywhere, so she tentatively glanced around her. The men who’d been laughing were no longer smiling. In fact, their faces were averted. The women who’d gathered around her and started to hurt her, they were on the ground. One appeared unconscious. She knew without a doubt Lord had put them there.

  Staring at him, she felt sick. “I think I’m going to throw up.” She tried to stop it but then she leaned over and threw up the food she’d eaten last night, some of it going on Lord’s boot.

  She sniffled and pressed her hands to her face, trying to compose herself, but it was impossible to do so. Nothing could be worse than this.

  Pain.

  She hated it. Memories, dark, horrible memories swirled within her mind.

  Lord’s hand went to her knees and the other went to her back. She wanted to fight him, but she didn’t have the energy. This was the last time she’d trust anyone ever again. He lifted her without effort and she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on to him, hoping he wouldn’t drop her.

  “I’ve got you.”

  She pressed her face against his shoulder, trying not to lose it. She was so close to losing it. That very morning, she’d been sobbing in the shower. Lord was like an entirely different person. One moment hot, the next cold. She didn’t know what to think anymore.

  Last night, he’d been laughing, joking, making fun of her while she watched that horror film. She hadn’t had a carefree night like that in ages. Then this morning, she’d gotten whiplash from the change in him. It wasn’t something new for her, but she just hoped Lord was different. Her father had been a classic example, as her mother had been. The drugs and gambling were a perfect reason for them to be constantly up and down.

  She couldn’t stand it, and this morning, it made her feel like a child. Ally wanted off the rollercoaster.

  Lord didn’t take her to his bedroom. This time, they entered his office and he gently put her down on the sofa. It was nice and soft. With her good hand, she tried to pull the base of the skirt down, but it was way too small. The woman had also said she wasn’t allowed to wear underwear. Could there be anything more humiliating now? Those men had seen her personals.

  She’d gone down with a thump to the floor. She’d never been a violent person. All her life, she’d learned to take the punches, the nasty words, the pushing, shoving, all of it. She thought could take it.

  Lord stood close and he removed his shirt, exposing his very scarred, but muscular body. She pulled away as he tried to put it on her. She wanted to cover her body, to help soothe the pain, but all those cruel words had hurt her more than the pun
ches.

  “Baby, I’m trying to help you.”

  “I … it hurts,” she said.

  He glared and she tried to get the sofa to completely swallow her up. Lord captured her face and held her still. “I didn’t order this. I want you to know that.”

  She didn’t believe him. He was the leader.

  “Ally.”

  “My hand hurts. I think it’s broken.”

  She lifted it up for him to see. His gaze didn’t waver from hers but she didn’t stop holding her hand up for him to see. She could barely move her fingers, and in the short space of time since they’d stomped on it, it was already swelling up.

  Lord eventually looked at her hand, but she watched him as he looked down her arm. Last night, he’d been more interested in sucking her tits than paying attention to her arms.

  “These are scars,” he said with a frown.

  The tip of one finger traced over the old scars.

  “You have scars.”

  “What caused these?” he asked.

  “A window,” she said. “My parents … they’d forgotten about me. They had gone to a party one Friday, leaving me in the car. They’d locked me in, but for two days, no one passed. It was like the car was crushing me. I had to do something. I managed to break the glass, clawing my way out of the front windscreen.”

  Social services had gotten involved at the time, but they never took her from her parents. After the hospital, she’d gone right back home. Since that experience, small, confined spaces affected her. Being in that police officer’s trunk had shaken her up, bringing back old, unwanted memories.

  “I’m going to call the doctor.” Lord stood, and she stayed seated on his sofa. His shirt was on the cushion beside her. Picking it up, she started to get into it, wanting the comfort of modesty.

  She should hate his scent. Lord wasn’t going to protect her.

  The whores hated her, but they were part of the club.

  Pain shot through her body. Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she contained any noise as she finally got the shirt over her head. She was so going to suffer for this.