I know what kind of men these are. I know how some of them hold little regard for their lovers and spouses when it comes to fidelity.
I need a man who is faithful to me.
I was willing to settle for lackluster just to have that with Kyle.
I can’t accept a man who comes home to me at night, but then screws other women. It would completely tear me apart inside. I won’t be like my mother. I won’t lie down and take whatever a man dishes out to me. I’m better than that.
“You’ll have me, Mary. I know a good woman when I see her. I’m not about to let you run off,” he grinds out as he slides almost completely out of me and then gently thrusts back inside.
Max fucks me slow, hard, and with purpose—his eyes never once leaving mine. He owns me, captivates me, and compels me to take a leap—jump without looking in any direction but his.
I’m going to do this, this something with him. I’ll be his and he’ll be mine, and together we’ll figure out if this chemistry is only physical, or more.
MADDOG
“Got him,” West says in my ear from the other end of the phone.
My face widens in a grin. I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to.
“Bring him to the warehouse. Text me when he’s there,” I instruct. West confirms before he ends the call.
That little bitch, Kyle, is mine. I’m going to make him suffer for laying a hand on Mary; for even suggesting he whore her out for his personal gain.
I motion for Mike to bring me a beer, and within seconds, I’ve got one right in front of me. I take a pull and look around.
This will be the last night I stay here for a while. I’m going to make a real effort with Mary-Anne, and that means coming home at night instead of being here.
I have a perfectly good house. There’s no reason to live down here, and it’d be nice to have a little privacy.
I catch a glimpse of her as she walks toward me from the bedroom. I grin when I see her practically hiss with each step. Her pussy has to be fucking aching, and I can’t help but feel anything other than victorious.
She’s wearing some light colored jeans—with rips and tears all over them, rolled up at the ankle—and tall shoes that look like low cut boots.
She’s got a t-shirt on, but it hugs her shape perfectly, showing off just how she’s built without showing off a bunch of skin.
“Hey,” she whispers as she walks up next to me.
I don’t respond with words. Instead, I reach out and wrap my arms around her, pulling her up onto my knee. I press my lips to her neck and whisper my own greeting.
“Your pussy okay?” I ask, trying not to laugh.
“You know it isn’t,” she hisses, looking over at me.
“Want me to kiss it better?”
“No. You’re not allowed to touch it for at least twenty-four hours. You’re banned,” she announces, acting as though she’s in control.
It’s cute as fuck, but not gonna happen. I don’t respond except to motion to Mike for another beer. He brings two over for me.
I push one into Mary’s hand and then take a pull from the fresh one. The night is still young, the music playing softly in the background, and a few guys are playing pool in the corner.
“How many clubwhores do you have here?” Mary asks me mid-drink.
I cough and try not to spit my beer all over her, not expecting the question. At all.
“Why do you need to know that?” I ask as my hand drifts up her back and tangles into her hair.
I don’t pull or yank on the stands, just feeling them slip through my rough fingers.
“Just curious. Bates’ club didn’t have a ton, but they had all the strippers that might as well have been clubwhores,” she mumbles.
“You sure know a lot for a girl who didn’t spend any time with the club,” I say, taking another pull of beer from my bottle.
“I lived with Kentlee, and she worked at the Devils strip club,” Mary informs me.
“We have ten whores, sweetness, not that you need to even think about them,” I say.
“Why wouldn’t I? Aren’t they always trying to get in your pants?” she asks, arching her brow.
I chuckle. Jealous. She’s jealous, and I also find that cute as fuck. Jealous women have never been a turn on, but Mary-Anne, with her narrowed eyes, and her face still flush from her last orgasm—Cute. As. Fuck.
“Guess they are, if I gave half a fuck about ‘em,” I shrug. “You have nothing to worry about, Mary. What I told you earlier, it stands. You have me, sweetness.”
“I’ve never been with a man like you before,” she whispers. I see the uncertainty in her eyes.
The only way I know how to erase that hesitancy is to fuck her; but right now, she wants words to cling to. I can give her those, too. I can give her whatever she wants.
“Yeah, I know. ‘Cause if you had, he’d have never let you go,” I murmur.
Her breath hitches before her lips find mine, taking me in a hard, closed mouthed kiss.
My fingers tighten in her hair at the back of her head, and I deepen the kiss, sliding my tongue into her mouth and taking from her—always taking.
She moans, and I hear her beer bottle clank against the bar before her hands wrap around my shoulders. She turns in my lap, facing me a little more, rubbing her tits against my chest.
“You’re making it hard not to bend you over this stool and fuck the shit out of you,” I murmur against her lips as I break the kiss.
“Yeah, you’re making it hard not to pull down my jeans so you can do that,” she sighs.
I chuckle, knowing my girl—whose face pinks with embarrassment at the talk of her panties—would not be down with that; but I know that I affect her the way she does me.
That’s all I can give a fuck about right now. My cock presses against the seam of my jeans, and I bite back a groan when Mary’s hand cups me.
“My pussy might be off limits, but I can take care of this for you, if you like,” she whispers.
“Later, yeah?” I murmur.
“Okay,” she whispers, looking down.
“Hey, sweetness,” I gently call out. Her head lifts and she looks at me, a look of deflation and maybe rejection on her face. “Want to end my night with you naked in my arms, can’t do that if we have all the fun right away.”
“Yeah,” she says. She doesn’t look as though she believes me.
I don’t know what’s up with her, but this isn’t the version of Mary-Anne I’ve been getting to know. This unsure, vulnerable, unconfident woman, this isn’t her.
“You have me, sweetness,” I whisper against her ear before Grease sits down next to me.
The rest of the night, we talk, Mary-Anne sticking to my side like glue. She doesn’t say or do anything off, but she’s different.
It worries me and distracts me the whole evening. I try not to let it show, keeping her close, continuously touching her the whole evening.
I hope that this isn’t her everyday personality, and that there’s just something bothering her, because I’m not a man who is constantly available to dote and give time and attention to a woman. I don’t have the time or the inclination.
I need a strong woman who can not only handle me, but the lifestyle as well. Maybe I made a mistake by thinking Mary could be that woman.
Chapter Eight
MARY-ANNE
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. No, that’s a lie. I know exactly what’s wrong with me. I’m insecure and scared. So damn insecure. So fucking scared. Walking into the bathroom before I go down to the bar, I run into four clubwhores.
They are all fairly young, younger than me, with big breasts and skinny little bodies. I’m thin, but I was not blessed in the chest area.
Their hair is a mix of blonde, bright dyed red, dark chocolatey brown, and one girl’s is even purple. They’re all dressed skanky, and here I am in jeans and a tee. I feel frumpy next to them, and I just want to get the hell out of here.
I should have just gone to the bathroom in Max’s private bath instead of coming down here.
“Flavor of the month just walked in,” the blonde girl says. She’s the girl that was talking about sucking Max’s dick. The other girls snicker, but they don’t chime in. I’m grateful. “You know you should seriously consider making a botox appointment. MadDog likes his girls looking young.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, unbelieving that she is actually saying this to me.
“MadDog. He gets a new girl here about every month, moves her into his house until he gets bored, and then kicks her ass to the curb. Though, I’m surprised he went with someone your age,” she says as she widens her eyes in feigned shock.
My age?
I honestly can’t believe her.
“You better stick to his dick like glue. It likes to wander around. I sucked him off the night before you got here. Fuck, but that man is hung. I think he’s saving me because he hasn’t fucked me yet. But I seriously cannot wait.” She giggles, and the other girls chime in.
“He fucked me a couple weeks ago, and my pussy still aches,” the redhead announces. “Kept me in his bed all weekend long.”
I turn away from them, refusing to buy into their little games another second. Their words have cut into me, though. I’ve never imagined Max to be a saint, not even close, but hearing them say that this is some kind of pattern of his? It makes me feel dirty. I practically run into one of the members, and he looks down at me with a grin.
“You okay, babe?” he asks as his eyes roam over my face.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
“You need a pick me up?” he asks, arching a brow.
“A pick me up?”
“A line of coke, some X, whatever,” he shrugs.
I’m not a drug user, but I’ve dabbled. It’s been a long time. Actually, I stopped after I moved out of my parents’ house. I used to party and get high to escape what was my reality, to numb my pain.
“I could use a little coke,” I say with a shrug.
He grins before he takes me into a room where there are a few lines on a piece of glass—as if they were just waiting for me.
I shake my head and reach for the straw beside the glass. I decide to only do one line. It’s been so long, and I don’t want to be too spun up.
I close my eyes and wait for the white powder to hit me.
Fuck.
I grin and turn to the stranger.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Soar, babe.”
“Soar?” I ask with a giggle, the coke working its way through me.
“Because I’m always fuckin’ soaring high,” he laughs.
He sounds like every pothead I’ve ever met, which makes me giggle, again.
I try to compose myself before I thank him and head down to Max. The moment I see him, my high begins to morph into more insecurity, as if the coke has heightened it.
I don’t feel paranoid, per se, but I feel scared; scared that I’m going to be kicked to the curb in a month, like those bitches said.
Scared that I’m giving up my apartment and my life in San Diego to live here, in the middle of nowhere, with this man that I don’t really know—and because why? Because his dick makes my pussy fucking crazy?
I’m so damn confused, but I can’t stop hanging onto him, afraid he’s going to reject me at any minute. My brain is working in overdrive, completely freaking insane, and it won’t stop.
I stay glued to Max’s side the entire evening. I feel clingy and even more insecure as the night progresses, especially after he turns down a blowjob from me.
I can’t help but wonder if he’s already tired of me. My mind is spinning like a freaking tilt-a-whirl, and I can’t seem to calm myself.
Once my high starts to come down, I feel tired, edgy, and ready for Max to just ditch me, get it over with, like yanking off a band-aide.
His hand travels down to my ass and gives me a squeeze. I look up to see his eyes on me, something that looks like concern etched in his features.
“Ready for bed?” he asks, his voice low and sexy.
I nod, unable to speak, afraid that I’m going to act crazy and piss him off.
Together, we walk past the rest of the partiers. I see the trashy clubwhores from earlier by the pool table. The blonde girl is bent over the table, her chest pressed flat as one of the guys fucks her from behind. Her eyes meet mine and she grins at me. It’s not friendly in the least. It’s downright evil looking.
I try to ignore her as I follow Max to his room, but there’s something about her, something about that look in her eyes. She’s crazy, and she’s up to something—I can feel it.
“What’s your problem tonight, Mary,” Max asks as soon as we’re inside of his room.
“Nothing,” I lie as I start to take my shirt off in an attempt to distract him.
“Bull’s ass, babe. You’ve been acting cagy and off all night,” he mutters, taking a step closer to me. I gasp when his hands wrap around my waist and he pulls me flush against his body. “You’re high.”
“I—.”
“Fuck me, you’re high. What the hell?” he grinds out.
“I just did a little coke. I ran into some girls in the bathroom, and I just didn’t want to deal,” I ramble, giving everything away.
Apparently, I not only ramble in my head when I’m high, but I also do it out loud.
“So all this shit is about you running into some mouthy whores in the bathroom? Mary, what the fuck? I thought you knew the score here?”
“The redhead said you fucked her a couple weeks ago, the blonde said she sucked you off a few days ago, and they all said that I’m not the first girl you’ve brought in and moved into your house. They also said that in about a month you’d get bored of me and kick me out,” I announce, my voice rising with each word.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters, stepping back and running his hand along his face. “They’re whores, Mary. I’ve fucked some of them, and they’ve blown me. This can’t come as a surprise to you. The rest of the shit they spewed was to ruffle your feathers. No bitches have lived with me since Eleanora. I thought you were more mature than this shit,” he mutters, taking another step back.
“You want me to leave it all for you—my apartment and my entire life. You want me to move into your house and be yours. After only a couple of days. I don’t know you, Max. I didn’t know if what they said was true, because we don’t know each other.”
“Then fucking be a goddamn adult and ask me. Don’t get high like a teenager,” he growls before he walks straight past me, slamming the door behind him and leaving me alone.
Oh, shit.
I fucked everything up.
I slide to the floor, my shirt still somewhere in the room, my back against the bed, and I pull my knees up before I drop my forehead against them. Then I cry.
I wait for what feels like hours, and when it’s clear that Max won’t be coming back, I decide to go to bed. I find a pajama set that he bought for me today, a tank and a pair of cotton shorts, slipping them on before I crawl beneath the sheets and rest my head on my pillow.
I stare at the wall, unable to close my eyes or stop my mind from imagining all the things he’s doing right now, wondering which of the whores he’s doing them with. The redhead, the purple haired girl, the bitchy, crazy blonde, or the brunette.
MADDOG
I walk away from Mary, leaving her alone in my room. If I stay, I’ll let my temper get the best of me and say shit I’ll regret—one of my many faults that I’ve learned my lesson from. I don’t go back to the party, though. The booze and bitches aren’t appealing to me right now.
I make my way outside and lean against the building, closing my eyes and feeling the cool breeze against my face.
Fuck.
Maybe this thing between us can’t be anything more than physical. She’s obviously not ready for a man.
My phone rings in my pocket, and I let out a sigh before I answer, not botherin
g to look at the caller ID.
“I’ll be there in fifteen, Pres,” West, my prospect, says.
“Be waitin’ in the warehouse for you,” I grunt, kicking off of the wall as I start to walk toward the warehouse.
Warehouse—I chuckle. Torture chamber is more like it.
I walk into the building, flipping on the lights, and set a chair in the middle of the room, right above the drain that I installed years ago. Helps to wash away the blood when shit gets messy.
It’s a big metal building with a concrete floor.
In the winter, we house the bikes for the guys who live in the clubhouse. Tonight, as the weather is just starting to go from fall to winter, it’s empty—save for the chair and some tools that rest on a table against one of the walls. Tools that I’ll be using on my new friend, Kyle.
A few minutes later, I see West enter, pushing a blindfolded pissant in front of him. Kyle. He’s shorter than me by a few inches, his frame thin, and about forty pounds lighter than I am.
His blond hair is still styled perfectly, even though he’s been traveling in the back of a van for nine hours, and his suit is hardly wrinkled. Prick.
I shift my head, nodding at the chair, and West nods himself as he pushes the asshole toward the chair before kicking his leg out and watching his ass plant in the seat.
He chuckles before he begins to tie him up. Once he’s finished, he looks at me, and I nod before he removes the blindfold.
“What the fuck,” Kyle practically screams, his eyes wide and frantic as he takes me in.
“Welcome, pissant,” I laugh.
West shakes his head behind him, a smile barely visible underneath his bearded face.
“I know Bates Lukin. I’m dating his sister,” he says in a rush.
West doesn’t hide his guffaw, which makes Kyle turn around. I assume he’s glaring at him, but West doesn’t give a fuck. He’s a good kid— a little older than most of my prospects, which is maybe why I like him so much—and he has a good head on his shoulders.
“I’m thinking Sniper might not like the fact that you hit his baby sister, then tried to pimp her out for your personal gain,” I announce.
Notorious Devils MC Complete Collection: BoxSet Page 90
