Page 5 of The Biker’s Guilty Pleasur

Reaper didn’t like when men used their influence over women. In fact, he would go so far as to say it pissed him off.

Heidi’s ex was a prominent judge. A Franklin Cartright. One look at the man’s picture and Reaper wasn’t happy with what he saw.

He did a quick search, and it wasn’t long before he discovered a string of relatable cases that the judge had allowed the criminals to go free. Rape cases. Battery. Assault. Even domestic violence. The judge was fucking dirty, paid off by big players.

After another quick search, he soon realized that anything relating to men versus women, the women always lost. He didn’t like this.

After gathering up his information, he left the clubhouse. He’d already told Lord the main details of the hit. This seemed to appease Lord, who was more than interested in getting back to his old lady. Reaper wasn’t interested in the personal details of the club brothers who had found a woman dumb enough to settle down.

Club life was brutal. It was not for the faint of heart. They seemed happy, and although he wasn’t bitter about them finding happiness, he wasn’t interested in watching it day in and day out. At least they didn’t abuse their women.

The women he helped were the ones he was interested in. Reaper didn’t go to the women’s shelter, he took a quick detour to the relevant owner of the building, who happened to be a wealthy businessman. A man also connected to Heidi’s ex, and liked to spend his time in brothels. Reaper located the brothel, paid the fee to get inside, and stepped through the door. Multiple women were in the main foyer in many different states of undress. The lighting was dim and tinted red, swaths of fabric covering the walls.

He never used brothels. Willing women were everywhere, and he never paid for the pleasure of sticking his dick into a pussy. However, he also made it his business to know all the brothel owners, and he signaled to Bruce at the bar that he wanted to talk to Poppy.

He took a seat, and within five minutes, Poppy, a heavy-set woman appeared. She liked to wear corsets that made her waist almost cartoonishly small and her tits bulge out. Her fake hair was curled, with different shades of pink, ranging from dark to light.

“Well, well, well, to what do I owe the pleasure of you being here?”

Poppy reached out to him a few years ago when a woman was dragged there against her will and was told to be put to work. Reaper stepped in, and the pimp was currently at the bottom of a lake with his tongue and dick removed.

Reaper pulled out a slip of paper with the businessman’s name on it. Poppy read it and groaned.

“You’re killing me, you are. You’re bad for business. Has anyone ever told you that?” Poppy said.

He rarely had to speak with Poppy, as she liked to fill the conversation between them. She let out a huff, a sigh, and then shook her head. “Fine, fine, fine. He’s on the top floor, second door on the right, and let my girls go first. They’ve seen enough damage for now.”

Poppy handed him the spare key, and he took it, making his way to the top floor. There were heavy sounds of moaning, and Reaper found the door, using his key.

The moment he entered, he saw one man and five girls. Four were standing in a line, looking bored, while another was being rammed in the ass by the man who Reaper wanted to have a word with.

“What is the fucking meaning of this?” he asked.

“Out,” Reaper said.

The girls looked ecstatic at being ordered to leave, and he wasn’t surprised. Even the one who was being used on the bed scrambled off the man’s cock and made her escape. It was sad and pathetic.

“Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?” he asked, moving himself around the bed, with his still hard cock bobbing in the air. “I am going to talk to Poppy about this.”

“You put up the rental rates on the women’s shelter,” Reaper said.

The man sighed. “What? Do you want me to close it down as well? Like I said to Cartright, it’s a tax write-off, and it was also good for business. I never thought it would be like a noose around my neck. It was supposed to be good for publicity. Useless women, who need to learn their place—in the kitchen or on their knees getting cock.”

Reaper was a violent man. He didn’t like people. He found over the years it was easier to be alone. The club was the only exception to that rule. The way the man was talking was disgusting, and he hated him on principle. Without even realizing it, he was close to him and struck out, hitting him sharply in the nose.

In turn, the man grunted. “What the fuck? What the hell are you doing? I’m going to have you thrown in jail and you will never know a moment’s peace.”

Reaper grabbed the man’s dick hard, and began to twist it. This caused the man’s eyes to go wide, as he realized who he was dealing with.

“Your voice is irritating to me. So, stop talking. You’re going to lower the rental fee, and you’re going to give me all the information you have on Cartright. If you don’t do as I ask, then I am going to make sure you’ll never be able to use your dick again, do I make myself clear?” He tightened his grip, and the man grunted but fervently nodded his head. “Good.”

Chapter Three

Grace had a busy week at work.

The bubble tea shop always did well when the weather was hot. Her boss had her doing extra shifts, so she’d had zero time for herself.

On occasion, she’d think about the shelter. Gena said Heidi and her daughter Jane were settling in nicely. If she wasn’t too tired after getting home, she’d volunteer for a couple of hours. They always got donated food deliveries on Fridays, so extra hands were always welcome.