by Hart, Lane
I can’t believe he left me handcuffed to his bed while he went to take a freaking shower. Still, other than wishing I was covered with sheets and my arms were free, I’m surprisingly content. In fact, in no time at all, my eyes drift closed, and I let my body relax into the mattress.
Chapter Twelve
Malcolm
* * *
Stupid. What I’m doing with Naomi is incredibly stupid. The fact that I know full well it’s stupid yet I’m still doing it makes me a fucking idiot. I’m usually smarter than this, less spontaneous and more thoughtful, calculated in everything I do.
Naomi has a way of throwing me off balance, forcing me to just react and not think. In a way, it’s freeing; but it’s also dangerous.
Under the warm stream of the shower is where it hits me that tomorrow night, I’m going head to head in an actual three round fight with my own MC brother, a man who has a significant height and weight advantage on me, all for a thief. A thief who happens to be sexy as fuck and that I can’t seem to resist no matter how hard I try. To top it off, tomorrow I’ve volunteered to be punched, kicked, and most likely beaten bloody for her.
Since it’s too late to change my mind now, I slick my wet hair back from my face, wring out as much water as I can, and then grab a towel from the rack to start drying off.
I know it was a dick move to leave Naomi restrained to my bed while I showered, but she deserves a little retribution for turning me into a possessive caveman for the first time in my life, one who has started making incredibly bad decisions.
As soon as there are no longer droplets of water dripping down my body, I toss the towel into the hamper and go back to the bedroom to let my captive go.
I was expecting to be met with the glare of Naomi’s angry, blue eyes for leaving her restrained. Instead, her head is flopped to one side, a few blonde strands of hair hanging in front of her closed eyes. Her pink lips are parted as she sleeps soundly with her arms still stretched above her head.
She looks like a goddamn fallen angel I lucked up and captured by accident. I knew from day one that she didn’t belong in my world. The proof that I shouldn’t trust her was a slap in the face just a few days ago, and still I brought her home with me, the only woman I’ve ever brought back to my home.
I always prefer to handle my dick’s business at a hookup’s house because I don’t want them knowing where I live, showing up whenever they want, asking me for shit. I deal with enough needy bitches at the bar and on the boat. I don’t want to deal with it at home. Not that I’m here very often, no more than a few hours to sleep most days, before getting back to work at the clubhouse.
From out of nowhere, it hits me that, if I had Naomi waiting for me in my bed every night, I sure as shit would make more time to be home.
Retrieving the tiny metal key from the same drawer I keep the handcuffs in, I crawl up on the bed and get to work on undoing them. The movements cause Naomi’s eyes to blink open and look up at me as I work.
“Mmm. About time,” she mumbles. “Thought you were gonna leave me like this all night.”
“Thought about it,” I tease her. “But my dick has to rest some time.”
“Ha-ha,” she retorts softly as I release her wrists and lower her arms. She immediately rolls to her side, curling up in a ball like she’s cold. Probably is, since there’s not a stitch of fabric on her and my air conditioning runs full blast in the summer. I cover her up with the comforter and then pull my jeans back on to head out back for a smoke.
The sounds of the waves crashing just a few feet away in the dark night are just as calming and relaxing as usual. It’s one of the reasons I refuse to sell this place for something bigger. In a world that’s usually chaotic, this is my peace.
And for whatever reason, knowing Naomi is here, waiting for me in my bed makes it feel even more like paradise.
Naomi
* * *
I can count on one hand how many times I’ve woken up next to a sleeping man. Usually the first emotion I feel is regret.
Not this morning.
I wake up in the comfiest bed, with the softest linens, with a bearded and inked muscular man sleeping naked beside me. I’m not sure it gets any better than this. Again, it makes me think that I’m getting a much better deal here than Malcolm.
I don’t regret stealing from Malcolm, and I sure as shit don’t regret agreeing to this deal with him, having the best sex of my life while being done with Harry. Or at least Malcolm claims he’ll take care of my debt…
Currently, the man in charge of my body for the next two weeks is lying sound asleep on his back, covers thrown off all but one of his thick legs. A single tattooed arm is thrown above his head, the other is resting on his bare pelvis, his fingers incredibly close to the base of his dick that’s long, hard and proud, raring to go before its master even opens his eyes.
Unable to resist, I reach over and wrap my fingers around his veiny girth and give it a stroke. Malcolm said the next time he comes he wants it to be in my mouth. And, at the moment, I can’t think of a better way to start the morning since my body is still humming from the orgasms he gave me last night.
On the second rough stroke, Malcolm makes a throaty rumbling sound like a dangerous, wild beast…right before he grabs my hand and peels it from his cock.
“Not now, honey,” he says with annoyance in his voice, as if I’m trying to floss his teeth while he sleeps rather than give him what was going to be a very enjoyable blowjob.
“I think your dick disagrees,” I tell him when the appendage twitches and grows impossibly longer.
Malcolm’s deep green eyes are barely open, just narrowed slits that are watching me. “Can’t come again until after tonight. Gotta save up my load before the fight.”
“A fight? Seriously?” He must be joking.
“Seriously.”
“What does coming have to do with a fight?” I ask in confusion.
“Getting off too much makes men lazy, way too complacent. Need the testosterone and hunger.”
When he doesn’t elaborate, I ask, “Is this fight of yours going to take place on the playground after dark?”
“No.” Malcolm stretches both of his arms above his head, then grips the headboard behind him, making it shake and his biceps bulge. “It’ll be in the cage out behind the bar.”
I think he’s actually telling the truth. This crazy man is going to have a bare fisted brawl with someone, which blows my mind. “And who will you be fighting in this cage behind the bar?”
“Fiasco.”
“Fiasco?” I repeat in surprise. “Why are you fighting Fiasco?”
With an exasperated sigh, Malcolm rolls out of bed and grabs a pair of clean jeans from a drawer, then pulls them up his legs. After tucking his erection down into them and zipping up, he finally props his hands on his hips to answer me. “Fiasco wanted me to share you with him for the next two weeks. I said no, and he wasn’t going to just let it go. So, we’re gonna fight to see who gets to have you.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, sitting up straight in bed.
The infuriating man doesn’t immediately respond. He’s too busy fetching a lighter and a pack of smokes from his dresser and then opening the bedroom window.
“Malcolm!” I shout at him, but it doesn’t do any good.
He doesn’t speak again until the cigarette is lit and he’s taken his first deep pull from it. Once he blows the smoke out, he finally says, “If I win, Fiasco will get the fuck over you. But if I lose…”
“What? If you lose, what?” I demand.
Speaking around the smoke between his lips, he says, “Then you’re his for the next two weeks.”
I’m his. I’m his?
Oh hell no!
“Malcolm! You can’t be serious!” When he doesn’t respond, I scoff indignantly and then jump out of bed to start putting my clothes on before I remember I don’t have any clothes at his house. He shredded my dress, and I didn’t even have a change of underwear
with me! “How-how dare you offer me up like I’m your property!” I yell as I find and pull up his boxer briefs I wore last night for about two minutes before he tore them off me. “I agreed to be your whore, not his!”
“I thought I was the whore,” the asshole responds with a smirk. “And don’t worry. I’m not going to lose.”
“How do you know that?” I shriek. Malcolm may be tough, but Fiasco has a very noticeable size advantage on him.
“Just trust me, honey,” he mutters, more concerned with his cigarette than my fury.
“And if you’re wrong? What then?” I ask him as I spin around, looking for something to cover up the rest of my body since I refuse to put the piece of shredded dress back on. I finally find Malcolm’s discarded shirt I had on last night. “Am I supposed to just leave your bed for his? How could you do this to me?”
“Fiasco had a point,” he answers coolly with smoke blowing from his nose like an angry dragon. “The debt you owe is to the MC. A fight seemed the fairest way to decide who you repay for two weeks.”
“You could’ve just told him no, that you wouldn’t give me up!” I shout at him.
“If I made an exception for you, everything else I do while I’m in charge will be seen as partial. I can’t afford to lose the trust of my brothers, or the entire MC will fall apart.”
He can’t be serious! Keeping his precious authority is more important than I am to him?
“Oh, so you would rather just let your MC brother have me without even bothering to ask me what I wanted?” I huff.
“You’ve already sucked his dick, so it’s not like it’ll be all new territory.”
Unable to deal with this conversation or revelation for another second, I stalk to the bathroom, telling him, “You’re a dick, Malcolm!” before I slam the door and lock it.
“Does that mean I won’t see you at the fight tonight?” the jackass has the nerve to yell through the door.
I just can’t even with this man!
Who does he think he is, giving me away like I’m not a person with actual feelings? Yes, I’m guilty of stealing from him, and I do wish there had been any other option, but there wasn’t! And maybe I also stupidly thought that Malcolm had a soft spot for me, when really, he’s just an evil, horny bastard who cares more about his reputation than me, an actual woman.
Malcolm
* * *
It’s probably for the best that Naomi doesn’t want to come to the fight tonight. Seeing her ringside would be a distraction I sure as fuck don’t need.
Do I think I can beat Fiasco?
Hell yes.
But there is no denying that the jackass has at least twenty pounds on me and a few inches of arm reach. I’ll just have to be the smarter fighter, which should be easy since Fiasco’s an idiot who makes terrible fucking decisions on a regular basis. I swear he treats being a dumbass like it’s his job.
If he hadn’t hired Naomi in exchange for a blowjob, she wouldn’t have stolen from us, and I wouldn’t have developed an unhealthy obsession with her. One that is now affecting how I run shit as president.
It’s too damn early to even be up this morning; but as soon as Naomi grabbed my dick, I went from sound asleep to wide the fuck awake.
Of course I wanted her to jerk it, suck it, ride it, any or all of the above, but most fighters swear that abstaining right before a fight is key to keeping their edge. And I’m going to need every advantage I can get.
Chapter Thirteen
Naomi
* * *
“How did you do it?” Anika asks me in the employee lounge as soon as we board the boat.
“What?”
“How did you do it? How did you get Malcolm to fuck you? You’re not even that hot.”
Wow. Jealous much?
“It’s really none of your business or anyone else’s,” I tell her, even though I have no idea who told her. Maybe no one had to after the romp we had in his office…
“He’s fighting Fiasco for her tonight,” Ronnie interjects when she comes out of the bathroom, having apparently heard our conversation through the door.
“Bullshit!” Anika exclaims.
“It’s true. I heard some of the guys talking about it in the bar last night,” Ronnie answers.
“For her? What do you mean for her?” Anika repeats with a jab of her thumb in my direction.
“Whoever wins gets to have her,” Ronnie explains.
“Sounds like you’re both just jealous,” Chloe, the normally quiet weekend only waitress, says to them.
“I’m not jealous,” Ronnie remarks. “They’re treating her like she’s property they can pass around. Probably will too. Malcolm’s only interested in her because, as the club’s president, he can’t afford to look like a loser. She’s not that special. It’s nothing but a testosterone-fueled pissing contest.”
“Two grown-ass men are going to fist fight each other for her when they could both have any other girl they wanted with just the snap of their fingers,” Chloe remarks. “Including you two. Like it or not, Naomi is obviously special to have two hot men go to such extremes.”
I mouth a thank you to the only woman sticking up for me, and Chloe gives me a wink before she saunters back onto the casino floor. Neither of the other women say another word after she’s gone either.
But Ronnie is right. I don’t feel special. I feel like an object, a toy that Malcolm and Fiasco are arguing over only because the other one has been with me. They don’t care about my thoughts or feelings on the issue. All they’re thinking with is their possessive dicks, which is incredibly immature.
It would serve Malcolm right to get his ass kicked. God, I bet the Dirty Aces president would be so embarrassed if Fiasco knocked him out in front of everyone.
Still, for some stupid reason, I want Malcolm to win.
Malcolm
* * *
“You ready for tonight?” Nash comes into my office on the boat and asks around midnight.
“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t,” I remark.
“This girl has got you twisted, prez,” he says with a shake of his head.
“I’m fighting to make a point, not for her. Besides, you’re one to talk about being twisted over a girl. Do you even let yourself look at other women, or are you afraid Ellie would consider that cheating if she were to ever find out?”
“That’s different,” he says. “She’s my wife. I still have an obligation to her.”
“Don’t you think it’s time to file for divorce?” I ask him. “She’s been gone for years.”
“Sort of hard to send her papers if I don’t know where the fuck she is,” he grumbles.
“Have you hired a PI?” When he doesn’t answer my question, I assume he hasn’t. He’s afraid of what he’ll find her doing if and when he locates her. His wife has no doubt moved on, regardless of their legal status.
“Right now we’re talking about you acting like a dumbass for a woman, not me,” Nash huffs to change the subject.
“It is what it is with Naomi,” I tell him. “I happen to like fucking her, and you know how I feel about sharing – I don’t.”
“That’s all this is?” he asks with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Yep. That’s it.”
The jewelry box in my jean pocket suddenly feels heavy, squeezing my leg like the blood pressure cuff on a polygraph machine. I know damned well I’m lying to Nash, and myself. If Naomi was just a good fuck, why did I feel the ridiculous urge to buy her diamonds to try and bribe her to forgive me after the fallout we had this morning? She was really fucking pissed at me, and I…hated it.
No, I didn’t just hate it. There’s been an actual gnawing ache in my stomach like a burning ulcer ever since Naomi left my house without a word. I’m not entirely sure if she’ll come back tonight or not, despite our deal. If she doesn’t, at least I know where she lives so I can go haul her ass back. Or at least give her this trinket I bought for her before I came to work tonigh
t while I try and apologize. Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me?
“Are you absolutely fucking sure?” Nash asks. “Because now with the expansion and shit about to go down, it would be a bad time for you to lose your mind for some piece of ass.”
“You fucking know me. The MC comes first. Always has and always will,” I tell him. “And that’s the end of this fucking conversation.”
“Whatever you say, prez,” he mutters. “So what are you going to do about that bastard Harry Cox? He’s the reason you said Naomi stole from us, right?”
“Yeah, he’s the reason,” I agree. “And I’ve got a plan for him. Instead of revenge, I’m thinking this could be a time for negotiations.”
“Negotiations?” Nash repeats. “Is that a code word for fucking him up?”
“I would love nothing more than to knock that fat fuck’s lights out,” I reply. “But no. You’re all about wanting the MC to expand, right? Patching over a few clubs is the first step. The second is coming up with a way to increase profits for all of us.”
“And you trust Harry enough to do business with the fucker?”
“No, I don’t trust him or his daughter as far as I could throw the tub of lard, but that doesn’t mean we can’t carefully use his connections to make some serious cash for us and the new guys.”
“Expansion over revenge?” Nash asks with a hint of a grin lifting his lips. “I like it. No matter how much we hate the bastard, it’s about time we start thinking shit through instead of flying off the handle over every little thing.”
“Lowell was always the hot head who got us in too deep more times than I can count,” I remind him.
“True. He was an impulsive son of a bitch,” he agrees with a grin. “God rest his soul.”
