Ransomed MC Princess #2

by Vivian Cove

  He glances down at the Can’t Touch This sprawled across his thigh. The thigh he’d totally touched. His eyes grow darker. Oh shit, storm clouds are gathering in his gaze ‘cuase he’s really super pissed! He must be suffering from the worst case of buyer’s remorse ever. There’s no way he’d rip off these nasty, old sweatpants like he’d ripped off my thong.

  Not that I’d ever think about doing such a thing with him.

  I mean, I totally didn’t just think that.

  OMFG, what is wrong with me? You’re in your SLAMMIN! neon green tee, Annie, and you look like a Cannibal Corpse groupie!

  He brings his gaze back to my face. His eyes soften. “Are you alright?”

  Hell no! Do I look okay to you? “Um…yeah.”

  Mr. President of the Rival MC brings his finger to the side of my lip and wipes it. My tongue immediately darts to the side of my mouth and I taste him and remember…

  The feel of those calloused hands running over my bottom lip, running over my jaw. Running over my entire body. The possessiveness of his kiss as he worships me with his strong, assertive movements, caressing my folds, sinking into my pussy…

  A different large hand clamps on my shoulder, pulling me back. I glance up to see Damien, his stance protective. “What the fuck did you do to her?”

  I stare at Damien in shock, dying to give him a piece of my mind, or at the very least, to kick his ass with my pink bunny slipper. What do you mean what did he do, idiot? You’re the one who knocked down those doors and then proceeded to fuck me! If it wasn’t for you, none of this would be happening!

  The stranger’s eyes narrow. “Do you really need to ask what I did? I thought you saw with your own eyes the…exchange…between us.”

  Damien’s eyes don’t just blaze—they’re a freaking inferno.

  Oh God, why did this MC President have to bring that up? Especially in front of my dad.

  “Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on here?” my dad yells.

  Well that shuts both of them up fast. It’s amazing how much no one wants to answer that question. Mr. Rival MC President’s jaw clenches while Damien turns his head to the side, avoiding my father’s gaze. As Damien does this, he exposes his neck and I notice something. A smear of lipstick.

  And it isn’t my shade.

  My hands curl into fists. “You were with a stripper tonight, weren’t you?” I hiss at Damien.

  Damien glances at me. At first he’s confused, but then he starts looking…guilty.

  “It’s not what you think,” he babbles, but his excuses don’t matter. After he took my virginity, he was with someone else. I can even smell her perfume on him. It overpowers even the scent of cigarettes and booze, like someone just set off a flower bomb in his pants.

  “Oh it isn’t is it? What the fuck was it then? You just decided to screw some girl right after—”

  I feel a little tap on my shoulder. Whirling around, I see it’s Candy. And she’s right next to my father.

  Shit! I have to keep it down. I can’t believe I was about to let Demon Spawn trick me into broadcasting to the world that he took my V Card.

  “Annie baby, Damien’s a man,” my father begins. “We all had a good time last night.”

  WHAT?

  Something about the look in my eyes (gee, wonder what??) freaks Damien out. “Um, not that good of a time,” Damien adds hastily.

  “Yeah right,” Ryder smirks, patting Damien on the back.

  What the fuck is he doing here again? Where the fuck did he even come from? I swear to god, the guy was like the cockblock Houdini.

  Damien looks like he’s about to smash Ryder like he smashed those doors. “I really did not have a good time,” he grits out.

  “Yeah, well I didn’t either,” I reply, eyes wild. “You see these broken down doors? They’re easily replaced, unlike trust. Once trust has been broken, it can never be put back together.”

  “What are you getting at?” my father asks, brow furrowed.

  “You want to know what happened with these doors?” I yell. “Well, I’m the one who fucking kicked them down!”

  Silence. It’s so deep that the only sound I can hear are my own heavy, fast breaths.

  My father’s frown deepens.

  Shit! Did I really just say that I brutalized these doors? What the fuck was I thinking? I glance at Candy, who is giving me the biggest what the fuck were you thinking? look she’s ever given me.

  I have to make sense of this somehow. “You see, Damien’s door has this big ass doorknob,” I begin. “It’s always sticking itself in everyone’s face as they walk down the hall, acting like it’s God’s gift to creation, like anyone who gets their hand on it is getting this ginormous honor when it totally isn't. I mean, everyone's had a turn spinning it around. And then one day you accidentally touch it because it’s just so big and massive and out there, and it pretends like it’s not going let anyone else touch it, but it’s a freaking doorknob so of course it will!”

  “Wow! Okay!” Candy steps in, clapping her hands.

  My chest’s heaving. Candy’s trying to save me. I know I should stop, but I can’t. My visions as red as the lipstick on Demon Spawn’s neck. “And then, I decided to kick down my door, because it’s always just standing next to Damien’s nasty doorknob and it was stupid to trust him and believe that his door would stay closed!”

  Candy stops clapping. “So, we got hella drunk while you guys were out, and might have smoked some of the shit Ganja keeps in his top drawer—sorry Ganja. Anyways, you know how crazy Annie gets when she’s hungry normally, just imagine her when she has the munchies!” Candy punctuates this with a few panicked laughs.

  No one else is laughing, though.

  My father closes his eyes. “Alright, nothing to see here,” he yells down the hall. Then, he looks at sexy stranger. “Tell your boys to back off.”

  The rival MC President glares down the hall. “You heard him. Get the fuck out.”

  My, he has a way with words.

  Damien’s jaw works. His hands flex. He’s looking at me with an intensity that is making me uncomfortable. It would probably also make my father uncomfortable if his eyes weren’t still closed and he wasn’t not-so-silently counting to ten. And the murderous gaze the rival MC President gives Damien after “his boys” dutifully go back outside would have made everyone uncomfortable.

  My dad finally gets to ten. “Annie, Damien,” he says, eyes still closed, “Some things have come to light this evening—things that need to stop before they go any further. We need to have a talk in my office. Now.”

  Chapter 4

  When I was ten, for my dad’s birthday I bought him a gigantic poster for his office. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen—fairies and dryads and mermaids and unicorns and bunnies and deer and vegetarian wolves frolicking in a sparkly, pristine pool beneath a waterfall with rainbows shooting out of the snow-kissed mountains.

  “THAT!!!!” I’d screamed to Cheyenne. She just started laughing. And when my daddy opened his special present from his daughter, she’d just laughed harder.

  My dad scowled. “What the fuck is this?”

  “It’s a poster for your office, daddy! I got it so you’ll always think of me!”

  “I already got tons of pictures of you in there, Princess. Why don’t we put this in your room?”

  My bottom lip started to quiver. “You don’t like it?”

  “Now, I didn’t say that,” my dad back peddled.

  “Then you’ll put it up, right? I really wanted to give you something special. I love you so much daddy and I want to show you how much I love you!”

  My dad sighed, and Cheyenne laughed again.

  I was so happy it was going up in my daddy’s office! But when I visited a few months later I didn’t see it anywhere.

  My dad had been quick to tell me, “Oh, that’s because it’s in storage, Princess. I don’t want it to get hurt.”

  I was so touched that my daddy was
so worried about my present that I’d gotten it out of storage and performed a special magical dance over the poster to keep it safe.

  “Oh Princess,” my dad had said, cringing when I gave it back to him. “I am happy for what you did, but I’m just still too worried it might get hurt in the office around all those rough bikers.”

  My shoulders had fallen. “Like Damien?”

  “Yes, exactly like Damien,” my dad said quickly, seizing the opportunity. “I’m afraid Damien will knock it over. You know how annoying he is.”

  I sniffled. “I was worried about that too, so that’s why I made sure the poster was Damien proof.”

  “Damien proof?” my father asked.

  “Yeah. I made it so that he can’t even look at it.”

  My dad sighed. “I’m just worried your magic might not be enough.”

  My bottom lip started to get really big, puffy, and wiggle. “You don’t think my love has magical powers?”

  “That’s not it, Princess.”

  “Then you don’t think my love is strong enough!”

  “Oh…no. That’s also not it, Princess. I’m just worried that Damien’s powers might be too strong.”

  I’d frowned. Demon Spawn was pretty strong. “I guess it would be okay to check. Let’s test it. DAMIEN!!!”

  Hearing me shriek his name, Damien ran up the stairs from the shop to my dad’s office. Then, being the Demon Spawn he was, he took one look at all those sparkles and unicorns and rainbows and vegetarian wolves and dropped to the floor.

  “STOP! IT BURNS!!!” he yelled, clawing his face.

  “See?” I told my daddy with a bright smile. “Damien proof.”

  My dad glared at Damien as he writhed on the floor, pretending to vomit blood and burst into flames.

  “The power of Christmas compels me!” Damien shrieked.

  “Wrong way, Damien! I am supposed to say that the power of Christmas compels me!”

  Damien stopped writhing and frowned. “Why do you get to say it?”

  “Because you’re the demon! Duh!”

  “Oh yeah?” Damien jumped to his feet, curled his hands into claws, stuck out his tongue and started to roll his eyes around as he chased me.

  Shrieking, I grabbed the corner of the poster and shined it at him.

  Damien fell to the ground again, clawing at the air. “Don’t…ever…do that…again…” he rasped as if each breath could be his last. “If I see it again…I might…not…make…it…!”

  With that, Damien ran out of the room and thirty minutes later the poster was sitting behind my dad’s big desk. It hasn’t moved since.

  Now, I’ve known for a long time that my dad wasn’t too fond of the poster, though after the night Ganja wandered up to his office, cut tits out of pinup magazines and pasted them over the centaurs and mermaids, his attitude towards it changed. When I told him it was okay to take the poster down a few years ago, he said he didn’t want to because it he’d made a promise to a little girl all those years ago and, to his surprise, it had grown on him, because every time he looked at it he thought of her.

  ***

  My father stands between his desk and the poster. Slowly, he turns with a sigh. “Damien. Annie.”

  The disappointment on his face makes my chest constrict. “I’m sorry dad. I really am. My behavior was outrageous. I’ll fix the doors. If I had more time—”

  “No, Princess, I’m the one who should be apologizing—to both of you.”

  I frowned. “What?”

  “I know you two didn’t used to get along, but I was hoping it was a phase. Sometimes, kids even play tricks on people they like. I always hoped it was something like that, and you two would grow up to be friends. But that isn’t the case. It’s become obvious that this isn’t just a phase and it isn’t going away any time soon.”

  “What are you saying, dad?”

  “I won’t have any more children. Damien is going to take over the club I’m gone. Since his father is my VP and best friend, I couldn’t be happier with the arrangement. Damien’s almost like a son to me.”

  “Okay…” Where is he going with this?

  “So Princess, I’m sorry, but if you two can’t get along, I think it’s best if you leave.”

  Leave. It feels like my dad just knocked the air out of my chest. “What?”

  “A short break from the club might be a good idea,” Damien adds.

  WHAT? Anger rips through all that pain. “Oh, I bet you think it would be a good idea you fucking slut. That way you can screw as many girls as you want—”

  “That’s not what I’m saying!” Damien interrupts.

  “Oh, that’s exactly what someone guilty would say!”

  Damien shakes his head. “Would you shut up for a fuckin’ second? That asshole from Judas Sons’ is gonna be here for a while and—”

  “Stop! Both of you!” My dad yells.

  Damien and I do stop. I look at the ground like a chastised child.

  “I swear to god, it’s been ten fuckin’ years, and you’re still not over it! Sure, it was cute when you were both little and runnin’ around, chasing each other, swearing like sailors and tattling on the other whenever they said a cuss word. But Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you’ve both reached the age of majority. This shit’s never gonna end.”

  “Daddy, I’m trying, but Damien—”

  “I don’t care about Damien, this is about you,” my father responds. “I’ve spoiled you, Princess, and it hasn’t been good for you. I’m not going to be around forever.”

  Where the fuck did that come from? “Dad, don’t talk like that!”

  “Princess, listen to me. You’re set for life. I’ve provided for you the best I can, and I’ve given you shares in the club. You’re a partner, but a silent one.”

  “What do you mean ‘silent partner?’ Are you cutting me out? You can’t do that to me! This is my home!”

  “But maybe it shouldn’t be,” my dad says softly. “Damien’s gonna run this place someday, and if you two keep butting heads, it won’t work out well for you. I think it’s time you left the nest.”

  “What do you mean leave the nest? I’m not a fucking bird!”

  “I mean, maybe go to college. You and Candy did real well on those community service classes you took last spring.”

  “That was a pottery class, dad! And my pots sucked! The only reason why I passed was because I didn’t miss a day of class. It got a pity C-!”

  “I think your pot was just fine,” my dad tells me.

  I point at the monstrosity on the corner of his desk. “That was supposed to be a teapot. And you’re currently using it as an ashtray. And I made more than one pot. The others all blew up in the kiln.”

  “Well, you could go learn how to make better pots, ones that don’t blow up, or somethin’.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? I don’t want to make pots, I want to fix motorcycles and ride. It’s who I am.”

  “It’s not who you are, it’s all you’ve known. Hell, Princess. You don’t wanna be here. You can’t stand the future president. That doesn’t mean you’re not still one of us. You’ll always be a part of the family, there is no changing that, but I think you should look into moving out and setting up on your own. Find a guy who isn’t part of the club, who can make you happy.”

  Damien growls at the sound of another guy. “I think she’s fine right here.”

  “Yeah!” I yell, grateful for Damien’s support. Then, I wonder why the fuck Damien’s supporting me. “Wait, didn’t you just say it was a great idea for me to leave?”

  Damien glares at me, then at my father. “She grew up here. You can’t just take all this away from her.”

  My dad sighs. “I’d thought you’d be on my side. I mean, she kicked down your door. Everyone knows that doorknob she was talkin’ ‘bout was your dick. This shit’s gotten so fucked up, I don’t even want to decipher the rest of it.”

  “She shouldn’t go runnin’ ‘round with strange
men,” Damien interjects.

  Oh, so that’s what this was about. He wants to run around while I wallow alone in my room in the suburbs. Well, fuck that and fuck him! “Yeah, well, maybe I’d like a strange man. Maybe he can make me feel things no one else can!”

  Damien’s eyes grow dark. “You know as well as I do that’s a goddamn lie.” He flashes a wicked smile. “Do you want me to remind you?”

  “I swear to god! Two seconds!” my dad yells. “Two seconds is all it fuckin’ takes, and I can’t fuckin’ stand it anymore. Not normally, and sure as shit not when I’ve got Judas’ Sons here for the next few days.”

  I feel a surge of panic. “Wait, Judas’ Sons is staying here?”

  My dad sighs. “Yeah. There’s…some details we need to work out. Not everyone is happy with the truce.”

  Blood roars in my ears. I can barely hear him. All I can think is: How the hell am I going to be able to look at that guy again and again and again after he had his face in my cunt?

  “They’re staying in the Everett’s Chapter’s bunks,” my dad continues.

  Everett’s Chapter? Those bunks were right above me and Damien!

  “So you can see why I can’t have afford scene like this morning,” my father continues. “These men are our guests and partners, but they’re also dangerous. I need to be rational and in control.”

  And you don’t think you look rational and in control with me around!?!?!?

  Alright, I save him the indignity of having to answer that question by holding my tongue. Just barely. I could be in control too…sort of.

  “Let Princess go home for a week to cool off, then come back,” Damien says.

  So Demon Spawn couldn’t handle a little competition after he practically came back from the party with a hickey? Oh that is it! “No dad. Let me stay here and I’ll promise you that if I slip up even once, I will go back home, no questions asked. I’ll even go blow-up more fugly pots and find a real man.”