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He’d seen her anger before he asked her to work with the club. He might have her here to keep the guys liquored-up, entertained, and to give him some eye candy, but the fact remained, he watched her, obsessed about her more times than he should.
Hell, he didn’t have to pay anyone to be at the club. They wanted to be here. But with Butters, he’d offered her a deal she couldn’t turn down. He’d used her situation at home, the fact she was desperate for money, as a tool, a pawn in getting what he wanted.
He was a sick fuck determined to get what he wanted, and what he wanted was her.
He’d been so busy with the club, and now with what had gone down with Claire, he hadn’t done what he really wanted to do—take Butters to his bed and fuck her until she couldn’t walk straight for the next week.
Mayhem grabbed his beer and finished it off, watching her the entire time. He could hear Bishop and Cricket laughing drunkenly. They were from another charter and were passing through but were crashing at the clubhouse for the night.
He kept his focus on Butters, though. She was now on the bar, dancing for the guys, making the club bitches jealous.
Most of the club whores who hung out at the MC were only after getting their pussies filled with dick, but there were a couple who he’d seen who wanted more.
If they’d actually get that from a club member was not his concern.
“Hey, Mayhem.”
He turned his head and saw Easy, one of the sweet-butts who had gotten her name for obvious reasons, walking toward him. She was in some high as hell “fuck-me” heels, a skirt short enough he knew if she bent over he’d get a prime shot of her pussy and ass, and a shirt that was white enough he could see her nipples and areolas as clearly as if she hadn’t worn anything at all.
Mayhem turned back and looked at Butters, and when Easy walked closer, he knew she clearly wasn’t taking the not-so-subtle hint that he wasn’t interested.
“Mayhem, when are you going to let me have some of that cock?” she said without having any kind of shame. Easy leaned against his table, her ass knocking over his empty beer bottle.
“Get lost.” He continued to watch Butters dance. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Easy looked toward the bar and knew she was watching Butters as well.
“She dances like she’s the shit. Like she’s got the tightest pussy around.”
“She probably does,” he said without emotion.
“Come on, Mayhem. I’ve had almost all of the patches. I have a few left, you and Big, even Dirty is on my list.”
“If you haven’t had a patch by now, that should be an indication they don’t want you.” He still looked at Butters.
Easy reached out and was about to touch his cut, but he grabbed her wrist and glared at her.
“Don’t fucking touch my cut. You know the rules.” He let go of her hand, glaring at her, not hiding the menace in his expression. “Now get the fuck away from me. I’m not interested. Never have been.”
Easy snorted, started murmuring something under her breath, and when she left, he focused on Butters again.
Maybe it was the fact Butters turned down any advances the club members sent her way that made Mayhem want her that much more?
She wasn’t a loose lay, didn’t try to get with a patch because being an old lady was a fucking coveted spot. Butters didn’t care about what anyone thought, didn’t give a shit about patches, prospects, or if a club whore was glaring at her.
She just did her job, entertained the guys, and made him hard like a steel pipe.
Yeah, he’d be trying to hit that real soon, and then once he was done, he’d get her out of his system and move the fuck on.
24
Claire tightened her hold on Big’s waist, the air moving over her face and hair, and the hum of the massive Harley beneath her vibrating and rumbling under her thighs.
She rested her cheek against his back, breathed in the scent of worn leather and the spicy cologne he wore, and she could have groaned.
It had been months since everything had gone down with Steven, and although she didn’t know what exactly happened with Mayhem, Big, and Steven, she knew they had kept their promise and hadn’t killed him.
Did she see them let him live? No, but she knew her brother and Big wouldn’t lie to her. They’d beaten the shit out of Steven, put the fear of the club in his blood, but they’d let him live.
She pushed all of that to the back of her mind and focused on the here and now. His cut was smooth leather and soft from years of wear, and the smell of age and of it being well cared for filled her nose and had her smiling in contentment. She loved this man. Loved him so much that it hurt.
