Sassy Little Thing (Iron Fury MC Book 4)

by Bella Jewel

  I don’t know why they needed four people to help; it would have only taken one. I’m not complaining, though. Hell, seeing four bikers moving my stuff around is perfectly fine by me. I had a rough night last night, and I didn’t sleep. I’m looking forward to working and taking my mind off of everything. I told my boss I was leaving and, strangely, he didn’t seem to mind.

  Here I thought he loved me.

  “Shhh.” I grin, jabbing Chantelle in the ribs. “Calm yourself.”

  “I had an image in my head, but my lord, I didn’t expect them to look like that. I don’t know how I’m going to keep it together.”

  “They’re all taken, I think. Well, except Mason.”

  “Which one is Mason?” She leans toward the window, and we watch the four bikers stride up the front path.

  “Hot one, long hair.”

  “Oh. Fuck. You’re living with him? With that god-like creature? Imagine busting him coming out of the shower? Gosh. My vagina aches already.”

  I snort and shove her again. “Come on, let me introduce you. And calm yourself. We’re cool kids, yeah?”

  She rolls her eyes and we walk out of my bedroom and to the front door where I give her one more look and then open it. We’re faced with four incredibly gorgeous bikers, all dressed in leather, all smirking at us. All except Mason. His eyes, gosh, I’ve seen so many eyes but his are almost vacant, and that’s a little scary. It’s scary to know something in life can cause someone to shut off like that, to just block out everything they feel.

  I wonder how he’ll feel living with me.

  Will he find it difficult?

  “How’s it goin’, darlin’?” Malakai drawls.

  I grin. “It’s going pretty good, now you showed up with the hot brigade. Boys, this is my friend Chantelle. She’s practically peeing her pants over your hotness, but I promise she’ll be on her best behavior. Chan, this is Malakai, Maverick, Koda, and Mason.”

  She squeaks and steps forward. “I’m so excited! This is awesome! Bikers!”

  Her voice comes out as a chirp, and her cheeks are flushed.

  I laugh.

  All the men introduce themselves to her, and her eyes linger on Mason. I can’t say I blame her. Standing there, rugged as hell in his faded blue jeans, dark black tee, and leather jacket is bound to make any woman weak at the knees. Hell, I’m struggling to make eye contact with him. I need to get my shit together or I’ll find myself losing my wit around him.

  “I don’t have much,” I say, leading the four men into my bedroom. “Just all those bags.”

  I stare at the bags; there are about ten of them in total. I packed pretty much anything I could get my hands on so my room felt more at home. I’ve seen the room Mason is putting me in, and it looks fit for a freaking princess with its massive king bed, separate bathroom and toilet, and furniture that I couldn’t afford even if I sold my damned body for ten years.

  I need some comfort.

  “Not much?” Koda says, looking at it all.

  “Well, now that you point it out, I may have gotten a little over excited. But I like to be comfortable, you know?”

  Koda glances at me then grins. “Yeah.”

  The four men start loading up the bags, and I run around, looking for other things to take with me. I glance at my painting on the wall. I could hang that up, really make my room comfortable. I pull it off the wall when a man barks behind me, “No.”

  I turn around and see Mason staring at the painting, his face somewhat horrified. I let the painting go and cross my arms. “What do you mean no? It’s my room.”

  “No way in fuckin’ hell that paintin’ is touchin’ one of my walls.”

  I purse my lips. “Why not?”

  “It’s fuckin’ hideous!”

  I stare at the painting. Okay, sure, to the untrained eye it may come across as rather grotesque. It’s hard to explain, but it’s kind of a tangle of naked bodies, and there is an eye right in the middle. It’s an expensive piece, and I like it for some twisted reason. I always had a thing for the items that were different, unlike all the rest. I don’t like anything standard.

  “It’s not hideous,” I protest, facing him. “If I’m going to come and work for you, this painting is coming with me. I dare you to fight me.”

  Malakai comes in behind Mason and glances at the painting. His face scrunches.

  “Don’t scrunch your nose up, there is nothing wrong with it.”

  “It’s nasty, darlin’.”

  “It’s not nasty,” I snap, crossing my arms. “Do you men want me to come and scrub your friend’s house, probably wash his nasty sheets, clean his gross toilets, or not?”

  “Not if that paintin’ is comin’,” Mason mutters, crossing his arms and giving me a look that just dares me to argue.

  “If you don’t take the painting, buddy, you don’t take me. And I’m worth it, I promise you.”

  Mason glares at me; I glare right back.

  “You should know, I’m an exceptional cook, amongst my other maid-like talents. You’ll regret not letting me and my incredible painting into your house. Live a little, I promise it won’t bite.”

  Mason grunts. “What-fuckin’-ever. Put it somewhere I can’t see it.”

  “Last time I checked, I had my own room. And I’m like ninety percent certain you’re not coming into my room, so we’re safe.”

  “Only ninety percent sure?” Maverick says, stepping up beside Malakai and frowning at the painting.

  “Stop scowling at my painting, you bunch of amateurs! It’s lovely. And yes, only ninety percent certain, the other ten percent of me is female, and he’s all broody and angry and that makes my vagina do weird things, so I can’t say for a hundred percent certain he’ll never come into my bedroom.”

  All three men stare at me, then Malakai and Maverick burst out laughing. “Fuck me, you’re one in a million, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Maverick chuckles. “Can’t wait to see how this ends.”

  I don’t let Mason comment to my little outburst. I’ve never been known to sugar-coat things, unfortunately. I’ve always been rather loud and said what I needed to say and always told the truth. Even if, at times I’ve been informed, the truth makes people uncomfortable. I would rather, any day, an uncomfortable truth over a white, hot lie.

  Those things destroy people.

  And I’m not into destroying people.

  I’d much rather them be uncomfortable.

  I find Chantelle dragging my last suitcase out of my room. “That’s it, those big, hot men took the rest. I think Mason likes me.”

  I raise my brows. “I’m not entirely sure Mason likes anyone. In fact, I’m starting to think the man is incapable of doing anything but grunting, let alone feeling anything, but do share why you think this.”

  “Well,” she tells me, leaning in, “he said hello before in the hallway when we were waiting.”

  I blink at her, then give her a wicked grin. “My lord, sounds like he wants into those panties. He said hello? Wow. That’s big, Chan.”

  She shoves me, laughing. “Okay, well, he was probably being polite. But my God, my knees went wobbly. I’m visiting you every day, I swear. And I want photos. If you see him without a shirt, at any point, I want a damned photo of it. God. I can only imagine how he looks naked. Better yet, imagine how he fucks, all angry like that. He’d be an animal.”

  I sigh and roll my eyes. “Only you would be thinking about sleeping with him. Mind out of the gutter for five minutes and let’s focus on me not killing him before I make the month. He said my painting was hideous.”

  Chantelle stops then bursts out laughing.

  “What?” I mutter, putting my hands on my hips.

  “Honey,” she giggles. “It is hideous. So freaking hideous.”

  I sigh.

  Bunch.

  Of.

  Amateurs.

  ~4~

  MASON

  “Quit callin’ me,” I growl into the phone, fists clench, back t
ight, neck aching from stress. I’m sick to death of this fucking woman and her shit.

  It’s been five years.

  Why the fuck is she still fighting me?

  “I won’t stop any of this until I get what’s mine, Mason. Mom was out of her mind, we all knew this, so her giving everything to you isn’t fair and I’ll fight it until someone sees I deserve at least half, or at least all that expensive antique jewelry she left you.”

  “Over my dead fuckin’ body will you get your hands on Mom’s jewelry. You did nothin’ to help her when she was sick, not a fuckin’ thing. You’re entitled to fuck all.”

  “I’m her child too, Mason. I’m entitled to things purely because of that.”

  I growl, low and deep. “When the fuck did you become such a cold-hearted monster? It makes me cringe knowin’ I call you sister.”

  She laughs, low and bitter. “I couldn’t care less what you think of me, Mason. I honestly don’t give two fucks. I care only about what’s mine. You have the house, and the car, and everything that came with it. I’m here, working two jobs, trying to survive while you’re out there riding around on your motorcycle in your pathetic little club, living the dream.”

  I scoff, and my blood fucking boils. Fuck her. Fuck her so fucking hard. “Livin’ the fuckin’ dream? Who the fuck took care of Mom for five fuckin’ years when it got bad? That would be me. I saw you only a handful of times durin’ that, and you decided it was too hard, now you want a cut of it. Fuck no. Not my problem you spend all your money on makin’ yourself look better. If you saved it, you wouldn’t struggle.”

  “Fuck you!” she spits. “I’m entitled to do things that make me happy, too. Not everything comes easily; some of us actually have to work for what we have.”

  “If you didn’t fuck everythin’ that moves and found yourself a decent man, probably wouldn’t have that problem.”

  “Get stuffed, Mason,” she snaps. “If you didn’t take half of what was rightfully mine, I wouldn’t have any problems, but you’re greedy and selfish, and my lawyer will get what I’m entitled to. We will fight this until there is nothing left to fight.”

  “Go for it,” I growl. “Fuckin’ enjoy wastin’ more of that money you don’t fuckin’ have, because you’ll never get a thing of me, and you’ll never get the satisfaction of havin’ anything of Mom’s. Not a fuckin’ bit of it.”

  “If Dad didn’t leave it all to her when he died, you wouldn’t have any of it. He loved me the most. He would have given it all to me.”

  I laugh, low and so fucking bitter even I feel the emptiness radiating through my soul. “Dad didn’t love you the most. He fuckin’ loved Mom the most.”

  Then I hang up the phone, tossing it across the room and panting with anger. Fuck her. She’s so god damned selfish. Materialistic bitch. I turn and storm into the kitchen, going straight to the cupboard and opening up a new bottle of scotch, then I walk through the house and out onto the massive back verandah that overlooks the pool.

  I glance down and see Saskia in the garden. She told me she likes gardening and that she’ll tend to it as well as clean my house and make my food—for extra, of course.

  Starting to see it was the best choice I made.

  She’s wearing a pair of tight denim shorts that cup her ass cheeks so hard there is a bulge hanging out the bottom. It looks fucking incredible, the curviest asses are the best, and she’s the definition of curvy. Her tanned legs glisten in the sun, and I let my eyes run up them, fucking slowly. I stop at her slender back and keep going up until I see her thick dark hair pulled up into a ponytail. She’s wearing a cap, but her body, her look, everything about her makes my dick throb.

  She’s a fucking sassy, strong, independent woman.

  Unlike most of the girls I meet.

  She’s not afraid of who she is, and she’s not afraid to let you know it, either.

  She turns after tossing a branch she just cut off a tree and notices me on the deck, staring down at her. She squints her eyes and then crosses her arms. Full of sass. Fucking chock full of it. She starts sauntering over to me, past the pool, and to the bottom of the stairs that lead up onto the deck.

  “What’s with the long face?”

  I grunt.

  Not afraid to say what she’s thinking, that’s for sure.

  “That’s just my face.”

  She grins, and fuck me, those lips, plump and full, I want to fucking push my cock past them, slowly, to feel the way they’d softly glide against it. My dick throbs, and I put my glass against my lap to try and cool it down. I need to get laid, fucking fast. Otherwise, being around this girl is going to hurt.

  A fucking lot.

  “Figures,” she says, uncrossing her arms and throwing her hands onto her hips. Her breasts jut out in her tank top, and her skin glistens with sweat. Fuck me. “You always day drink?”

  “It’s Saturday.”

  She raises her brows. “That wasn’t what I asked you, genius.”

  I glare at her.

  She smiles at me.

  “Have you always been such a happy man? I mean, it’s so pleasant to be around you. If happiness had a face, it would be yours. When I’m near you, it feels like I’m just radiating sunshine, you know?”

  Fucking smart ass little bitch.

  “Does your sass ever fuckin’ get you anywhere?”

  She raises her brows. “What sass? I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is just me ...”

  I exhale.

  “How did you afford all of this, anyway?” she asks, leaning her hip against the railing.

  “Do I look like I want to chat?” I mutter.

  She ignores that. “It’s nice, but you’re so young. How come there is no woman here with you? Seems like a woman’s doing.”

  “If I wanted to hire a friend, I would have stated that on the ad.”

  Her eyes meet mine, and she blinks those big fucking lashes. “Oh, we’re not friends. You should see how nicely I treat my friends. If we were friends, I’d be up there drinking with you. No. Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t make friends with grumpy people. Too draining.”

  I exhale again. “Do you always talk so much?”

  She smiles again, fucking beautiful, god damn her. “Oh, yeah, definitely. You’ll get used to it.”

  “Rather not.”

  She ignores that and continues on, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  I glare at her again; she is unfazed. “Considering I just hired a maid, I think we both know the answer to that.”

  “Well, I mean, technically we don’t. You could have a girlfriend who might like to live the expensive life and is incapable of doing anything herself. There are plenty of those out there. Seems like the type of girl you’d go for, too. Considering your lack of communication skills and all.”

  I swallow some scotch and continue to blankly stare at her. “Are you done?”

  “Wasn’t quite finished, no.” She crosses her arms again. “What about kids, do you have kids?”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “That’s a no then, probably for the best. I can’t imagine the world could take any more moody little Masons.”

  She giggles at her own joke, and the sound is fucking lovely. Damn her for being so fucking cute.

  “Anyone ever tell you that you’re fuckin’ annoyin’? I hired you to work, not to talk.”

  “Often,” she says, nodding. “I’d rather be annoying then bitter, you know? You should try it sometime. Talking is good for the soul and all that.”

  “Rather cut my own tongue out.”

  “I’d pay to see that.”

  I growl. “Get back to work.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be at the club or something?”

  I run my hand down my face and groan. “Fuck me. Do you do anythin’ you’re told?”

  She blinks at me. “I’m getting to it, keep your shirt on.”

  “Yes, I’m supposed to be at the club, I’ll go soon just to get away from your e
xcessive talkin’.”

  She flashes me a killer smile. “Good, your attitude is draining, I won’t lie. But, I think so far our time together has been rather successful.”

  I deadpan her.

  She keeps smiling.

  Always fucking smiling.

  “First time I’ve had a conversation with you, hardly counts as successful.”

  She shrugs. “Well, you haven’t complained yet about my work, so I must be doing okay.”

  “It’s your second day.”

  “Goals, Mason. Goals.”

  She spins around and saunters back to the garden, continuing her chopping and tossing. I stare at her for a few moments more then shake my head.

  Pain in my ass.

  Big time.

  ~*~*~*~

  SASKIA

  “Seriously, Sas, don’t go and visit him again.”

  I sit down on Mason’s massive sofa in just one of his three living rooms and look to Chantelle. “I’m just informing him that I have a new address, and that I’m working somewhere else.”

  “He doesn’t care where you live, or where you’re working, and we both know it.”

  I purse my lips. “It’s the right thing to do, in case he needs something.”

  “The only thing he needs is a swift kick to the face, and the balls, if you’re asking.”

  I shrug. “No doubt, but I’m still going. Speaking of, I have to head in now as Mason will be back later and I want to finish up the house.”

  Chan sighs. “Fine, go to that fuck boy, but know that he is a waste of good, solid oxygen.”

  I laugh. “Love you, Chan. But it’s time to go.”

  She mutters something under her breath, and we both stand up and leave. When she’s gone, I triple check I’ve locked all the doors, because my god there are so freaking many. Who needs this many doors? Honestly. And half of them are glass sliding. I spend half of my day wiping the damned things.

  I could think of better things to put in, but anyway.

  Maybe Mason likes doors. Who knows?