Mayhem: A Reapers MC Boxset

by Elizabeth Knox

  “I’m terribly sorry for the way my son reacted. You see, he was never any good at having good manners. Though, I did try.” Timothée smirks as he puts the rim of the glass to his lips and takes another sip.

  “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me like this. You must have things to do.” I too take a sip of my wine, but it’s only to ease my nervousness.

  Chaz is a handsome man, but his dad, or uncle . . . whatever I should call him. Well, he really gives you the total daddy vibes. I’m assuming he must be in his early fifties based on the way his skin seems a bit aged. Though his crystal blue eyes compliment his golden hair.

  Timothée shakes his head, “No, not at all. You see, at my age, I work when I want. So, luckily for you I’m off.” He leans forward while a flushed glow adorns his skin, though I should’ve anticipated the devilish smirk that pulls at his lips.

  I don’t know how to react, genuinely feeling like Chaz’s dad is flirting with me. “Yeah, but I’m sure you had other plans, not being stuck with your son’s . . . assignment.” There’s no other word for me, or term that would be accurate. He made it clear as day that if Damon hadn’t ordered him to help me, he wouldn’t be helping at all.

  “I’m not. I’m having an intimate dinner with a ravishing young lady, enjoying good wine, and hopefully good food.” It’s obvious to me Timothée is trying to do his best to make me comfortable. What Chaz did, leaving me here like this . . . it didn’t hurt as much as it would’ve if we were friends . . . but we aren’t, so I’m fine.

  “Thank you for your kind words, I appreciate them.” I smile, taking another sip of wine and set my glass back down on the table.

  Timothée grabs the bottle from the middle of the table and raises a brow, “Would you like another glass?”

  I nod, “Sure, thank you.”

  “Of course,” While he pours me a glass and then himself one, Gaston comes back over to our table.

  “Shall I wait for Charles to return, or would you like to place your order now?” He asks, placing his hands behind his back.

  “Charles won’t be returning, so I think it’s best we put in our order now. Bring out a chicken confit, steak frites, salmon en papillote, a slice of hazelnut dacquoise and tarte tatin.” Timothée takes the liberty to order for the two of us.

  Gaston nods, “Certainly. Any special requests?”

  “A side of caramel and chocolate sauce, please. Otherwise, I’m sure we have plenty.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes.” Gaston takes his leave and I’m left with Timothée who leans back against the booth, still smiling at me.

  “It sounds like you ordered a feast,” I comment, clasping my hands together on my lap.

  “A feast? No. Merely a few options. After Charles leaving the way he did, the least I can do is give you a meal you can’t forget. We were voted the best French cuisine in all of Nevada.” Timothée boasts with pride, causing me to see how he genuinely cares for his business.

  “Well, thank you. I really appreciate it.”

  “Stop with that, your thanks and appreciation. After the first time it’s quite obvious you’re grateful.”

  “Sorry, this is all a bit odd, being here with you. I suppose I’m not sure what to say. Chaz rushing out like he did shocked me a bit if I’m being honest.”

  Timothée throws his hand up in dismissal. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. Charles simply doesn’t like it when I speak about family issues, ever. He gets all huffy and puffy like the wolf that blew the house down in that children’s story.”

  “Sometimes speaking about our families can be difficult. I for one had no idea he was adopted, or that his family was so close to him. Though, we haven’t known one another for long. I am just a charity case for the club.” I mutter the last bit, feeling a bit down on myself. Hell, Chaz doesn’t have to be nice to me. I’m really only a task he needs to ensure is completed.

  Timothée lifts his chin and cranes his neck to the side a bit, “The way you speak makes me think you’ve had some of the same issues— difficult family.”

  I nod in agreement, not wanting to get into my mess. “Yes, you could say that.”

  Timothée’s eyes sparkle and he nods, bringing his hands together on top of the table. “Yes, well, tonight we don’t need to talk about that. Instead, we’ll simply enjoy each other’s company over good wine and delicious food. What do you say?”

  I laugh lightly, “That would be lovely.”

  Timothée grins widely, “Perfect.”

  I’ve never had a dinner this decadent, and whenever I was invited to my father’s estate his staff had always cooked the most delicious meals. In saying that, Timothée’s chefs have them topped by far. It’s no wonder this was voted the best French cuisine.

  It’s been about two and a half hours and I’d guess it’s around ten or eleven at night. I haven’t even looked at my phone since dining with Timothée. Though, now I’m pulling it out from my crossbody purse and am reminded it’s dead. Ugh, just my luck. We’ve finished off the entire bottle of wine and I’m feeling amazing, more relaxed then I’ve felt in the last few days.

  Gaston has already come by to fetch all of the china on our table, and many patrons have already left the restaurant, considering they must’ve closed around eleven. Now it’s only Gaston and Desiree here.

  Footsteps cause Timothée to glance to the right. “Everything is ready for the first shift tomorrow, sir. Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave?”

  “No, no. Thank you so much. I take it you’ll escort Desiree to her apartment?” Timothée’s eyes flash with wickedness.

  Gaston’s cheeks flush with a bright red. “Yes, sir. I’ll make sure the young lady gets home safe.”

  “Good on you. See you tomorrow.” Timothée replies while Gaston heads through the kitchen door beside our booth. Timothée waits a few moments before he speaks, looking directly at me. “I suppose I should arrange a ride for you, hmm?”

  “You don’t have to.” I speak before my mind even processes what I’m doing, and with it, I feel my pulse pumping heavily in my throat. My mouth quickly goes dry and heat floods over my skin.

  Timothée’s lips part as he rubs his fingertips against the table, tapping away. “What do you suggest, Crina?”

  Holy fuck. Okay. He’s flirting, and man he’s coming off strong.

  I focus in on his features, knowing I’d romp around in bed with this man regardless based on his looks. His personality is simply a bonus to me.

  Timothée slides out from the booth, stands and makes his way over to me. He places one hand on the table and leans down. “What is it you’re suggesting, Crina?” He questions me yet again. I’m unable to tear my eyes from his, feeling my chest rise and fall slowly, thinking about his body wrapped around mine as he plows his dick inside me.

  I gulp, watching his smirk grow. “We’re both adults here, Timothée. Put the pieces together yourself.”

  His tongue darts out across his bottom lip and I rise, causing him to take a step back and peer down at me. Sliding my purse off, I toss it on the seat of the booth. “Fuck, you’re a treat for an old man like me.”

  “You hardly look your age,” I compliment him, snaking my arms around his neck I slide one hand up into the back of his curly hair.

  His breath is heavy as it hits my lips and just as I’m about to make the first move his lips crash down onto mine. Only, it’s not as rough as I figured. Instead, it’s delicate, demanding, and sensual. Before long, his lips push past mine while his hands skim across my body.

  I revel in the way his fingers tweak my nipples through my shirt. Breathing in and out through my nose, I take my hands from around his neck and fumble with his belt, savagely undoing it. His hardness presses against my hand while I undo his zipper, popping his dick free. It’s wide, veiny and is sure to bring me crazy amounts of pleasure if he knows how to use it. I’ve never fucked a man this old, but I’ve heard they’re the best because of their expe
rience.

  Timothée works at my jeans and shoves them down my legs, taking my red thong with it and spreads my legs. Within a second, he’s hoisted me up and slammed my body on the table of the cleared booth beside us. He rams his cock into me with no warning and I moan loudly at the sudden intrusion, digging my nails into the wood below my hands.

  Like a dog in heat, he fucks me savagely. So much that I feel his balls slamming against my pussy, slapping them. “Jesus, you’re a wet girl.”

  “And you’re a thick man,” I grit while he grinds his cock against my G-spot, the last of my words coming out in a high-pitched moan.

  Timothée places his hands on my hips, pulls me back to him and brings himself all the way out while shoving himself back inside. Over and over again until my core is filled with raging fire. “Motherfucker, I’m going to cum.” I moan, grabbing onto the other end of the table I lean my torso down, giving him an even better angle to fuck me at, desperately needing to keep feeling this.

  He chuckles with a shaky voice, “Good, me too.”

  Timothée picks up his pace and goes harder, ramming his cock into me like he’s never going to fuck another woman again . . . and I come completely undone. My orgasm rocks through my entire body, causing my legs to shake dramatically. I physically feel my walls tightening around his cock, begging for more, pleading for more ecstasy.

  “Fuck, yes. Take this cum.” He snarls, digging his hands into my ass.

  He stills for a moment, groaning while releasing his seed and slowly pulls himself free. Although, I figure that’s the end of our fun. But I’m quickly made to realize it isn’t as he flips my body around, shoves my shirt up and frees my breasts from the confines of my bra. He tweaks them like he was doing through my shirt. It distracts me enough that I don’t realize his head pushing against my asshole until it’s too late.

  Just like when he slid into my pussy, he pushes into my ass in one swoop, taking me for the first time a man ever has there. Though, I sense he’s going to take me for another wild ride.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Your doubts create mountains. Your actions move them

  ~ Mel Robbins

  Chaz

  “What in the fuck is wrong with you?” Damon snarls, shoving papers off his desk in a blind filled rage. I’m pretty sure what he’s asking me is a rhetorical question, so I don’t bother responding. “Why in the world would you leave her in another city? I told you to help her, not freak her the fuck out!”

  I cock a brow, “I’m not sure if we’re talkin’ about the same woman, Prez. There’s not a thing that could shake her up.”

  Damon isn’t pleased by my comment, glaring at me. You know that saying if looks could kill? Well, I’m sure if they could I’d be a dead man right now. He grinds his teeth and balls up his fists, “I told you to help her with her assignment, but instead you left her in a city by herself, over thirty minutes away. And you want to know how I found out?”

  Considering it’s been two days since it happened, I’d fucking love to know. “How?” I cross my arms in front of my chest.

  “Rebel sashayed her ass in here and ripped me a new one because of your actions. Tell me this Chaz, when have we ever treated women like dirt? ‘Cause that’s what you did when you left her there. Something could’ve happened to her. You never know.”

  I roll my eyes, not enjoying the theatrics. “She was fine. We were at my dad’s restaurant and I knew he’d get her home safe. He pissed me off, so I bounced. There’s nothing more to talk about.”

  “Nothing more to talk about!?” Damon’s voice is louder than I’ve ever heard it before, and I’m sure he’s going to stroke out at the rate he’s going.

  The door to the room opens out of nowhere and Dixon comes inside, shutting it behind him. It almost makes me chuckle. There’s no point in shutting it, ‘cause everyone is bound to hear whatever is said in here.

  “You alright, Prez?” Dixon questions, looking between Damon and myself.

  “Am I alright? Am I alright?” Damon repeats, pacing the room.

  “Okay, dumb question.” Dixon mutters.

  Damon rushes over to me, places his hands on both sides of my chair and as he speaks spit flies against my face. “We have enough shit going on right know with Sakura’s dad figuring things out. What none of us need is you going off and causing problems like this. I told you to help the girl, so fucking help her. Don’t fucking leave her, don’t fucking treat her like a clubwhore, sweet butt, club bunny or any other shit. You hear me? You treat her like she’s your fuckin’ ol’ lady ‘cause that’s the respect she deserves.”

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me, Prez. She fuckin’ calls me Tiny. Tiny!”

  “Does it look like I give a rat’s ass what she calls you? She could call you Flora and I wouldn’t give a shit.” I spot Dixon hiding his laughter from behind Damon. I know why. It’s ‘cause Damon hasn’t had a blow up like this in a long ass time. “You get your ass over to her apartment at Crave and apologize like the fuckin’ piece of shit you are. Go buy her flowers, a fuckin’ teddy bear, I don’t care. You show her that bikers aren’t all . . . motherfuckers like you, ‘cause I’ll be damned if she uses the way you’ve treated her to paint us in an even more negative light. Is that clear?” He rips his hand from the sides of my chair and I give him a curt nod, showing him I’ve understood.

  “Great. Dixon, do me a favor and suggest some ideas that won’t get him in more shit with the club.” Damon speaks in a completely different tone to Dixon while he’s on his way to the door.

  “Sure thing,” Dixon replies, and just as he responds Damon has left the room, slamming the door shut. Once Damon has left the room, Dixon takes a seat in the chair beside me and leans back. “Man, you really pissed him off. I don’t think I’ve seen him that pissed since all the shit was going down with Rage all those years ago.”

  “Yeah, sounds about right.” Damon was a different man back then, filled with nothing but fury for what Rage had done to Kat. Fuck, the man did it to her mom too.

  Dixon shakes his head in disbelief, “Why would you just leave Crina there like that dude? You know better. Fuck, you knew it would piss Damon off more than anything.”

  I sigh heavily, running a hand over my face. “Yeah, at the time I wasn’t really thinking about Damon. Dad was pissing me off and I had enough, especially when he was throwing our family shit around and then referring to Crina as my girlfriend. It pissed me the fuck off. I’d never date a chick like that . . . with all that sass, fuck. I’d strangle ‘er.”

  A smile pulls at Dixon’s lips. “You sure you don’t have a thing for her? Like, deep down?”

  I give him a knowing look. I think it’s been obvious as fuck since Cheyenne left, I’ve been irritable. I fuckin’ miss her so much. “Brother, I highly doubt it.”

  “I dunno. I’ve seen some interesting shit like this, where dudes hate women and then boom, next thing I know they’re married.”

  “I’m not the settling down type.” I state, taking in a deep breath.

  “I thought you told Cheyenne you would settle down with her if you knew you had a chance.” Dixon speaks, making me cock a brow.

  “Who told you that?”

  “You’re kidding, right? Indra was right outside when you two were going at it and heard the entire thing. Now, you wanna hear what I’m gonna say, or not? ‘Cause remember, I used to be as bad as you with women.”

  “What, you got some words of wisdom or something?”

  “Yeah, something like that. You’re missing Cheyenne, right, so go bury yourself into someone else’s keyhole. Fuck your frustrations out. I mean, hell, dude . . . Crina isn’t a bad lookin’ woman. She’s sassy, prolly enjoys some real nasty shit. I don’t see why it can’t work out. You help her with her book, and she helps you get out some frustration.”

  I don’t buy it. There’s no chance this could work. I shake my head as Dixon gives me an amused look. “Chaz, you gotta try something. If you keep actin’ the way
you are, you’re gonna get your patch ripped off.”

  At this point I know Dixon is right. My options are limited and I need to try to make things easier between Crina and I. Maybe he’s right. Hell, he could be wrong too . . . but only time will tell. I rise from my chair, “Yeah, I’ll figure something out. For now, though I’ll go grab her some chocolate and hopefully it’s a good peace offering for her.”

  “That’s my man. Women love chocolate.”

  I don’t bother responding, knowing if I’m gonna do this I’d better get outta the club now. There’s a lot of things I’d rather be doing and seeing Crina isn’t one of them.

  Chapter Twenty

  Toxic people will make you feel like you’re holding a grudge. No, dude. That’s called a boundary

  ~ Unknown

  Crina

  I bring the pale pink knitted blanket over my legs to warm me up a bit as Rebel goes on about her day. Truth be told I’m half paying attention. There’s so much crap on my mind. I mean, I’m still reeling from the fact I slept with Chaz’s dad. Numerous times in fact. Our night was a fuck fest and then he got an Uber for me and sent me back home the following morning after a big breakfast.

  “So, I marched right in there and chewed Damon up for how Chaz acted. I mean, c’mon, if that was one of the ol’ ladies he’d have his hide tore up. No way was I going to let him get away with it either.” She sneers, rolling her eyes.

  I whip my head to where she’s seated on the chaise part of the sectional. “I’m sorry. You did what?” I blink at her, finally getting pulled back into the conversation.

  “Uh, were you even listening?”

  “I zoned out for a second. Sorry, I was up really late last night writing. I downloaded a couple books from some big time MC authors to see how they structure their stories but based on my English degree and understanding basic story arcs I feel confident I’m doing it the right way. I think I went to bed around five this morning, I don’t remember. But, I have about eight thousand words in my manuscript.” I smile at the end, actually feeling happy with how much progress I’ve made.